At the Café des Poétes, Orpheus, a well-known poet who is, perhaps, a bit jaded with his own fame takes notice of an elegant woman, The Princess. She is accompanied by the fiery Cégeste, a would-be poet who has been drinking and soon causes an uproar — his jealously of Orpheus cannot be contained.
Tossed out of the bar, Cégeste is instantly mowed down by a pair of motorcyclists. In the confusion, The Princess orders that Cégeste be placed in her limousine and insists that the startled Orpheus come along as a witness.
Heurtebise, her chauffeur, drives off before anyone can question the wisdom of removing an accident victim from the scene without police involvement. As they drive along, Orpheus examines Cégeste and realizes that he is dead. Soon, his killers provide an escort for The Princess, which confuses Orpheus all the more.
The radio broadcasts abstract poetry as they travel to her isolated chateau, which is badly in need of repair.
Once there, The Princess reveals that she is Death and brings Cégeste back to life, although in a somewhat “zombie-like” state. She, Cégeste and her two death-dealers walk through a mirror and disappear, leaving behind a bewildered Orpheus, who awakes some time later in a field.
He eventually stumbles upon Heurtebise, who says that he has been waiting for his arrival. He drives him home, where a police inspector is there with Eurydice, Orpheus’ pregnant wife … her friend Aglaonice is also there. Questions go unanswered as Orpheus refuses to discuss what transpired with The Princess.
Also boarding on the bizarre is the invitation by Orpheus to have Heurtebise move in with them and store the limo in the garage. The limousine’s radio, as Orpheus discovers, is the only source of the broadcast poetry, which becomes an obsession for him.
He spends endless hours writing down the poetry he hears on the radio, dreams of The Princess each night (which may not be dreams at all) and meanwhile, Heurtebise falls in love with Eurydice. Orpheus even sees Death in the nearby marketplace, but she remains elusive.
The Princess has her death-dealers murder Eurydice in the same fashion as Cégeste. Heurtebise, perhaps for personal reasons of his own, offers to help Orpheus navigate the Underworld to bring back Eurydice. He then reveals to Orpheus that he too is in league with Death and Orpheus makes a confession of his own … he is in love with The Princess; in love with Death.
The pair journey through a surreal world where those that they encounter are unaware that they are dead. Eventually they enter a room — with a mirror — where three judges are holding a tribunal … an investigation into the death of Eurydice. All become witnesses, The Princess, Orpheus, Heurtebise and Eurydice.
After hearing their testimony, the panel of judges rule that The Princess had unjustly taken Eurydice’s life and restore it. Eurydice and Orpheus are allowed to leave the Underworld on one condition … he can never gaze upon his wife again.
Heurtebise is assigned to help out and they manage to pull this off for a while, with her diving under tables and shouting her presence to warn her husband to divert his eyes. While sitting in the limo — Orpheus in the front seat listening to a poetry broadcast, Eurydice in the rear — he unthinkingly glances in the rearview mirror, catches a glimpse of her and she suddenly vanishes.
Heartbroken, Orpheus encounters the Furies, in the form of Cégeste’s friends and admirers from the Café des Poétes, who demand to know what has happened to Cégeste. He arms himself with a gun, which is quickly taken from him … he is shot and finds himself back in the Underworld.
The Princess, in love with Orpheus, decides to set things right and sacrifices herself so that Orpheus and Eurydice may live. The panel of judges agree and wipe the memories of Orpheus and Eurydice clean of all the events that have transpired since the fateful encounter with Cégeste at the Café des Poétes.
The Princess and Heurtebise are condemned to be judges for eternity.
Production Credits
Director: Jean Cocteau, Assistant Director: Claude Pinoteau, Producer: André Paulvé, Writer: Jean Cocteau, Cinematography: Nicolas Hayer, Editor: Jacqueline Sadoul, Assistant Film Editor: Héléne Basté, Sets: Jean d’Eaubonne, Set Decorator: Albert Volper, Sound: Pierre-Louis Calver, Production Manager: Emile Darbon, Assistant Production Designer (Art): Alfred Marpaux, Unit Manager: Jean-Marie Loutrel, Makeup: Alexandre Marcus, Music Composer: Georges Auric, Script Supervisor: Claude Vériat, Script Assistant: Sylvette Baudrot, Technical Advisor: Claude Pinoteau, Costumes: Marcel Escoffier
Jean Cocteau ... Poet, Writer, Filmmaker
Jean Cocteau, poet, playwright and novelist emerged from the dark days of World War II in France as a filmmaker on the cutting edge. The French New Wave was still ten years in the future (François Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, Claude Chabrol, Éric Rohmer, etc.), but Cocteau was nevertheless an Avant-Garde and ahead of his French contemporaries in terms of filmmaking techniques.
But before he could be involved with post-war projects, he had to acquit himself of charges of collaboration with the Nazi occupiers. Though charged, Cocteau’s artworld connections, which included the likes of Picasso and Jean-Paul Sartre (who petitioned on his behalf), kept him clear of reprisals.
Free to work, Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast won the Grand Prize at the Cannes Film Festival in 1946 and arrived at selected arthouse venues in the United States in the fall of 1947. The film teamed Josette Day as Belle with Jean Marais (Cocteau’s partner at the time) as The Beast.
Cocteau and Marais would, in short order, deliver The Eagle with Two Heads (Venice Film Festival – Grand International Award, August of 1948; domestic theatrical release in December of 1948) and The Terrible Parents (December of 1948 in France, with a domestic arrival in April, 1950).
Both films were not only directed by Cocteau, but he also provided the scripts.
In June of 1949, he next turned to the writing (re-imagining) of an adaptation of the Greek classic, “Orpheus and Eurydice.” Cocteau’s vision was Orpheus, which would once again star Marais as Orpheus, a modern French poet. Marie Déa would be taking on the role of Eurydice. Filming began in mid-September and Cocteau wrapped principle cinematography in mid-November.
The Making of Orpheus ... Film Magic
Elaborate studio sets were created at the Pathé Cinémas Studios in Paris, with extensive location filming taking place in the Paris area, including the bombed-out Saint-Cyr Military Academy and the Vallée de Chevreuse district (to the south and west of Paris proper).
The way Cocteau used the camera (cinematography by Nicholas Hayer) to tell his tale would make Orpheus something of a visual fantasy feast.
For example, the effect of the mirrors that are passed through by the characters was accomplished by suspending the actors over a vat of mercury while wearing gloves (since it is extremely toxic), the use of which was written into the script as a plot element.
Characters in the underworld are seen passing in front of and then behind Orpheus, which was done with a rear-screen projection (very effective) — passing in front of Marais, then moving out of frame, only to reappear behind him as a projected image.
Cocteau also fashioned a set built at a severe angle, with the camera locked in at the same angle to make it appear level, but once the actors entered the camera’s frame they appeared to be sliding (or blown) along the pavement. This is not only a very creative sequence — or should we say “Avant-Garde?” — but it also created a very unnatural visual experience, which was certainly Cocteau’s intent.
Remember, Cocteau, long before he was a filmmaker was a poet and writer (and more), so in 1994 (31 years after his death) there was a posthumously published book titled “The Art of Cinema” (also 2000 - Marion Boyars Publishers Ltd) which contained his thoughts and observations on filmmaking (and other things), especially his thoughts on the elements and themes of Orpheus.
As previously mentioned, Cocteau uses mirrors extensively in Orpheus. To him these were the mechanism by which we grow old (metaphorically-speaking) … each time we take a glance we grow older, perhaps not in the moment, but over time. The mirror steals our youth, and by extension, our innocence.
Perhaps morbidly, Cocteau talks of death and the poet — in this case, Marais as Orpheus — as being a prerequisite to immortality. If we make the extension, Cocteau, the poet, must also die to become immortal. It certainly seems that this film production had that in mind.
Jimmy Gillman, in one of his “Past Picks” columns, probably said it best, “Describing the cinema of Jean Cocteau is like attempting to put literal translation to a poem.”
If you desire to dig deeper, the Criterion Collection has Orpheus available on Blu-ray, which features an excellent commentary by French-film scholar James S. Williams (“The Cinema of Jean Cocteau” and “Jean Cocteau (a 'Critical Life')”).
Orpheus was slated to make its debut at the Cannes Film Festival, but in 1950 the gathering was canceled, so Cocteau had to find another prestigious event to launch his film. This would be the 11th Annual Venice Film Festival, which took place from Aug. 20 through Sept. 10. His film was in the “Main Competition” with 24 other films, including All the King’s Men, The Asphalt Jungle, Give Us This Day, Panic in the Streets and Cinderella.
Orpheus Ships France, Sacré Bleu! ... Opens in London!!
What’s odd is that multiple sources report that the film did not open theatrically in France until September, but instead at the Rialto Theatre in London (complete with multiple London film reviews). There were four showings per day beginning on May 25, 1950.
It is hard to imagine that a French film — from Cocteau — was playing theatrically in London before the Venice Film Festival in August … and before a domestic theatrical run in France that September? Sacré bleu!!
We reached out to Prof. Williams, the Criterion Collection's expert on all-things Orpheus, who confirmed the London premiere ahead of the Sept. 29, 1950 Paris opening at the Colisee Gaumont. The cancellation of the Cannes Film Festival (for financial reasons) set in motion a series of unfortunate events that saw London before Paris for Cocteau's film.
Film critic Milton Shulman, writing for the Evening Standard at the time, had this to say: “All that emerges from this film is an untidy heap of symbols run riot, trick photography and obscure dialogue.” And Paul Holt, writing for the Daily Herald said, “It is all gruesome nonsense and old fashioned at that. Jean Marais plays Orpheus in a petulant way.”
If Cocteau’s intent was to have London film critics bash his film before an international film festival audience could see it — and before his own countrymen could enjoy it — then it was mission accomplished!
Orpheus opened in the United States at the 55th Street Playhouse in New York City on Nov. 29. Some of the American critics were no kinder, with Kate Cameron’s review in the Daily News worth just one star and calling it “a pretentious and boring film.”
It took until May 17, 1951 for Orpheus to reach the Music Hall in Hollywood. Philip K. Scheuer, writing for the Los Angeles Times was more positive, “Jean Marais, a Cocteau inseparable, is the Orpheus, Maria Casares the dark princess, Maria Dea the blonde Eurydice and Francois Perier the dead-alive chauffeur. They are beautiful people who can act. The support is excellent.”
Scheuer continues, “But then — and whether you find it provocative or merely provoking — this is rare picture making.”
History — London critics of the day aside — has been far more positive. For example, famed film critic Roger Ebert, writing in 2000 (50 years after the film’s domestic release), gave Orpheus four stars. He observed, “Seeing ‘Orpheus’ today is like glimpsing a cinematic realm that has passed completely from the scene.” And, “The story in Cocteau’s hands becomes unexpectedly complex; we see that it is not simply about love, death and jealousy, but also about how art can seduce the artist away from ordinary human concerns.”
