LA PISCINE: Blu-ray (Avco Embassy, 1969) Criterion Collection

The fourth-highest grossing French film of 1969, director, Jacques Deray’s La Piscine (or, The Swimming Pool) brought together Alain Delon and Romy Schneider – two of the sexiest individuals ever to grace a picture screen - and thrust their real-life fractured passions into an exhilarating tale of death and deception, co-authored by Deray, Jean-Claude Carrière and Alain Page. In Page’s original novel there arose an interesting dichotomy, chiefly centered on a discrepancy of age and monetary wealth between the two male rivals of the piece; writer, Jean-Paul (Delon’s character), who is successful but strangely dissatisfied with his life, and that of his supposed best friend, Harry Lannier (Maurice Ronet), whom it is suggested once had an affair with Jean-Paul’s current girlfriend, Marianne (Romy Schneider in a role originally conceived for Angie Dickinson). In the movie, Delon is 29 and in his prime to Ronet’s 37 – considerably narrowing the age gap, while Harry Lannier arrives at the villa in a Maserati – hardly, destitute, thereby renders moot much of his envy towards Jean-Paul.  In the book, Lannier’s elder statesman is resentful of the youthful advantages of his cohort and has brought along his daughter, Penelope (Jane Birkin) in the hopes of tempting Jean-Paul into have an affair with her while he pursues Marianne. At the crux of both the film and the novel is the corrosive understanding that this ‘supposed’ friendship has been forged upon a malignant and mutual contempt.

La Piscine benefits from Delon and Schneider’s almost indescribable and never anything less than incendiary appetite for one another. It’s not only palpable. It hurts – but in a good way. In 1969, foreign celebrity didn’t come any bigger than Delon and Schneider; he, the studly male sex bomb of such New Wave classics as Purple Noon (1960), Rocco and His Brothers (1960), L'Eclisse (1962) and, Le Samouraï (1967), she – the smoldering German enchantress first to have captivated the world in the Sissi franchise (1955-57). There was nothing about Delon and Schneider that ought to have brought them together as lovers, and yet, for a brief wrinkle in time, beginning in 1959, they were the most enviable and exacerbating gorgeous couple du jour. Their eventual – and very public split, rumored the result of Delon’s infidelities with other women, and Schneider’s ultimate, and very sad decline into stark despair, particularly after the untimely death of her 14-yr.-old son, David Christopher, impaled on a fence post, has since left a very open wound on Delon’s psyche. Indeed, the actor, 85-yrs.-young, though bearing a striking dissimilarity to his former screen persona, admits to not being able to watch La Piscine today.

Born in the affluent Parisian suburb of Sceaux, Seine, Alain Delon gave up formal education at age 14 to work in his father’s butcher shop, then enlisted in the French navy at age 17. Even then, his restlessness landed him in trouble: almost a year of interment in a military jail for being ‘undisciplined’. Delon might have come to no good, except that after being dishonorably discharged, he favored a friendship with actress, Brigitte Auber, soon to get him noticed in the picture biz.  Delon was then offered a contract with David O. Selznick, provided he could learn English, but passed on the opportunity to appear in director, Yves Allégret, Quand la femme s'en mêle (Send a Woman When the Devil Fails, 1957) instead. Delon’s good looks immediately led to his first lead, opposite Romy Schneider in Christine (1958), the birthplace of their lurid, though ‘too hot to last’ romance. His appearance in Purple Noon (1960), the darkly purposed thriller based on Patricia Highsmith, The Talented Mr. Ripley was a mega-hit in France and an art house fav in English-speaking countries. A few short years later, Delon was in the running for the role of T.E. Lawrence in David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia, narrowly missing out to Peter O’Toole, but recouping nicely, opposite Monica Vitti in Michelangelo Antonioni’s L'Eclisse (1962). His appearance opposite Jean Gabin in Any Number Can Win (1963) gave Delon a taste for producing, agreeing to a percentage of the film’s distribution rights in certain countries instead of a straight salary – an untried method of remuneration, lucratively to earn Delon nearly ten-times the payback of his more seasoned costar. Committing to a 5-picture deal with MGM, Delon, alas, failed to gel with North American audiences. Although internationally ranked with such male luminaries as Steve McQueen and Sean Connery, he would never rival their popularity abroad.

La Piscine is a picture very much to emerge from a particularly dark period in Delon’s life. Whether Delon’s apprehensions in revisiting the movie today stem from the shrouded particulars of what became known as the Marković affair – the dumpster discovery of the murdered remains of his friend and bodyguard, Stevan Marković, leading to allegations of wild sex parties involving Delon and other major players from France’s whirling social circles, including future First Lady Claude Pompidou, and Corsican mob boss, François Marcantonio with whom Delon was also known to be rather chummy – or the result of Delon’s bittersweet reunion with Schneider some years after the affair had cooled, but with whom he was expected to make several violently passionate sex scenes in the picture, or even, the painful post-picture reminders of the woman he once desperately loved but who, after the death of her son, began abusing alcohol to self-medicate, ultimately to die of a heart attack in 1982, remains open for discussion. For certain, Delon still regards Schneider with fond, if panged affections. He has also gone on record with his lingering sadness over the loss of his good friend and co-star, Maurice Ronet, one year after Schneider’s passing, from cancer, age 55.

One pauses to think what might have become of Romy Schneider, if only Delon and she had wed as planned. The luminous, then – only 17 - star of Sissi, created an international fervor as the strikingly gorgeous teen on the cusp of womanhood. And while Schneider suddenly found herself playing the part of a princess in life, as well as in the movies, the artificial bloom in that public ardor soon wore thin. In the wake of her behind-the-scenes lost innocence, Schneider defied convention, tempting the fate of her career to be with Delon in Paris – a romance to considerably tarnish her virginal public image. Artistically, however, she was hotter than ever - the muse of all the leading directors of her generation, including Luchino Visconti, Orson Welles, Otto Preminger and Claude Sautet. With its salacious flashes of naked amour, La Piscine breaks Schneider’s innocence down to bedrock. The sex scenes between her and Delon are outrageously frank and sexy. Ironically, director, Deray did not want Schneider in the picture. He would have preferred Monica Vitti. Delon, however, and despite their breakup, was adamant Schneider be cast or he would refuse to do the movie, and, very begrudgingly, Deray eventually complied. In retrospect, one has to sincerely admire Schneider for her chutzpah here, in embracing this complex and worldly character, the virtual antithesis of her carefully manufactured chrysalis of a German-cultured screen queen. 

The Romy Schneider we observe in La Piscine is sophisticated – yes, yet earthy, playful, desirable, but firmly situated within her own convictions. Indeed, the critics were agog with praise for this startling transformation. Yet, to attain this renaissance it was essential Schneider abandon the Germanic tradition, steeped in highly sentimentalized reflections of a pre-war preconception of morally-provoked femininity.  After La Piscine, Schneider reigned as a preeminent star of 70’s French cinema, a legendary run, overshadowed by personal tragedies. In the wake of her separation from Delon, she wed German director, Harry Meyen, who later committed suicide. After their son’s untimely death, Schneider withdrew from public life. The fame no longer mattered, replaced by a bitter indulgence of prescription drugs and alcohol, to eventually catch up with her on May 29, 1982. She was only 43-yrs.-old.  As no post-mortem was allowed, Schneider’s death was legally ruled as heart failure. However, those who knew her best still believe she simply died of a broken heart.

In La Piscine, we are introduced to a writer, Jean-Paul and his attractive gal/pal of two years, Marianne, holidaying at a friend’s villa. From the outset, Marianne enjoys the slightly off-putting antagonism in their relationship. Jean-Paul is moody and deliberately, if playfully brutish, setting aside a moment of frenzied passion to attempt to answer the telephone, then tossing his half-naked playmate into the pool and repeatedly spitting water in her face. Marianne, so it is suggested, is also into kink, encouraging her lover to claw her back. Sometime later, Marianne will submit to being whipped across her naked buttocks with a branch, again, deriving pleasure from the pain. Enter Harry Lannier, under the guise of being a very old friend. In reality, he is Marianne’s ex-lover – a record producer parading his 18-yr.-old daughter, Penelope, about as though she were his playmate. Indeed, Penelope will confide in Jean-Paul that her father uses her as bait to procure other women on the side, getting off on the idea he could still have a girlfriend as young and attractive as she. At first, Harry’s arrival at the villa appears to lighten the mood for all. He is, after all, gregarious to a fault. But before long, Harry worms his way back into Marianne’s heart. She prefers him to drive her into town, leaving Jean-Paul jealous, but also to explore alternative amusements to pass the time while sincerely wondering whether Marianne is ready to leave him for Harry. Worse, Harry diminishes Jean-Paul’s self-worth, suggesting he gave up ‘serious work’ as a writer to become an ad man instead.

Knowing of Jean-Paul’s struggles with the bottle, Harry throws a booze-soaked party, taunting Jean-Paul with a relapse. Mercifully, this never happens. And Jean-Paul possesses an unlikely ally in Penelope, who neither respects, nor even likes this man who was never around while she was growing up. While Marianne seems oblivious to the fact Harry is using her – or perhaps, merely doesn’t care – Penelope and Jean-Paul become closer, spending the day together by the sea. That evening, after the ladies retire, a drunken Harry becomes rather belligerent towards Jean-Paul who, alas, has also taken to drink, though hardly to the same level of inebriation. Confronted near the pool, Jean-Paul causes Harry to lose his footing and fall into the water. Reaching, presumably to fish Harry out, Jean-Paul instead repeatedly holds Harry’s head underwater until he drowns. Covering up the crime by concealing Harry’s wet clothes, Jean-Paul waits for the inevitable discovery of the body the next day. After the funeral, Inspector Lévêque (Paul Crauchet) confides in Marianne his suspicions. This was no accident. It was murder. Later, Marianne confronts Jean-Paul, who sheepishly confesses his crime, even providing her with the evidence to have him arrested. Curiously, Marianne does not go to the police and the inquest is dropped. The verdict of accidental death is allowed to stand. Instead, Marianne drives Penelope to the airport, sending her back to her mother. Back at the villa, Marianne informs Jean-Paul she has decided to leave him. He, however, is not willing to let her go. And apparently, she is not sincere in this decision either, as he gently embraces her and the two blankly stare at the pool.

Viewing La Piscine today, one is immediately struck by how ‘contemporary’ the movie feels. Apart from the obvious time capsule appeal of its automobiles, the clothing – perhaps, with the exception of Penelope’s mid-sixties ensembles – has not dated. Much of that ‘now’ look is owed French designer, André Courrèges who created custom pieces, including the swimsuits worn by Schneider and Birkin. And then, there is the timeless alure of the film’s primary location, the stunningly handsome villa at Domaine de l'Oumède in Ramatuelle. Surrounded by exotic foliage and stone masonry architecture, La Piscine’s actual timeline is hermetically sealed in a non-descript past of stately elegance. Curiously, for Alain Delon, the movie continues to rekindle a past imperfect that may or may not have actually occurred. The never-to-be-solved murder of his bodyguard, Stephan Markovic, lingers like a bad penny of suspicions. Were Delon and his long-standing friend, François Marcantoni, a known underworld figure, in some way, either directly or indirectly responsible for Markovic’s murder? The scandal surrounding Madame Pompidou suggests a conspiracy to cover up all of their unbridled hedonism. Markovic, a gambler, was rumored to lure high-class clientele to wild parties where, allegedly he captured their inappropriate behavior via hidden cameras, then used to blackmail the participants to fund his fabulous lifestyle. And Delon’s ‘casual’ associations with known criminals in the Parisian underworld, such as Z, Bimbo, and Petit René, rather suspiciously led to their violent deaths shortly thereafter. Even more incriminating was a letter, reportedly in Markovic’s hand, to his brother, Aleksandar where, in part he suggests “If I get killed, it's 100% fault of Alain Delon and his godfather, Francois Marcantoni.” But perhaps most telling of all, as of the writing of this review, Alain Delon remains the only person embroiled in the Markovic affair to still be alive.

Unlike other movies of its generation, La Piscine was shot twice, once in French, then again, in English, rather than merely re-dubbing it for the international markets. The 114-minute international release is slightly shorter, owing to Deray’s slightly different editing. Evidently, the working relationship between Delon and his director clicked, as they would collaborate together on eight more films – all of which Delon produced.  And La Piscine’s legacy would resurface yet again, as the inspiration for Luca Guadagnino’s A Bigger Splash (2015). A fine-looking film, La Piscine reveals the weak, amoral underbelly of the fetching and fabulous – sophisticated, only on the surface, yet grotesquely unprotected against the tidal wave of their own roiling, amatory lassitude.  There is something very measured, yet elemental about this erotically charged thriller and it affects the audience, even as it malignantly infects the illogical moral turpitude of these troubled and severely flawed characters.

La Piscine arrives on Blu-ray via the Criterion Collection. Unfortunately, the release, marketed as a new 4K restoration, has come under some controversy. Properly framed in its original 1.66:1 aspect ratio, the work undertaken by Societe Nouvelle de Cinematographie with the support of the CNC at Laboratoire Daems in Paris and Hiventy in Joinville-le-Pont has been derived from an original 35mm negative. All to the good, except that the robust color palette now leans heavily toward an almost sepia-styled golden tint, suppressing blue tones and rather indiscriminately oranging-up flesh tones to the point where Delon and Schneider occasionally look as those someone has hosed them down in teak deck stain.  Color density is never in question. The image is fully saturated…I would argue, occasionally over the top into an area of ‘super saturation’ that is not always altogether appealing. Contrast is excellent. Age-related artifacts are a non-issue. But here, it is the re-imagining of the color spectrum that just seems to be one colossal turn-off. Instead of enhancing the natural appeal of the cinematography, the image now looks rather cartoony throughout. Scenes shot at night suffer from some serious black crush and macro-blocking. As Criterion has also included the English edit of the movie, this has not been subject to the same digital tinkering and, on the whole, fairs considerably better. We get a French LPCM 1.0 for the French version, and English LPCM 1.0 for the English version. Both are excellent. The Criterion’s strengths lie in its extras, to include: Fifty Years Later, a nearly half-hour-long 2019 reflection piece with commentary from Delon, Birkin, screenwriter, Jean-Claude Carrierre, and novelist Jean-Emmanuel Conil. There’s also a 20-min. piece, Undressing a Legacy featuring scholar, Nick Rees-Roberts comments on the film’s fashions. We get vintage snippets in B&W and color from 1968/69 following the cast and crew around as they prepare to film. Bottom line: La Piscine is a stunningly handsome thriller with excellent performances. But this Blu-ray is oddly unimpressive and, at times, seems to bastardize the original visual intent of its film-makers. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

3

EXTRAS

4