One of Rivette’s primary interests was the theater.  Indeed, his magnum opus, Out One, has some extended sequences about the preparations for a play, and in its 12 hour version, includes long and excruciatingly tedious sequences of actors doing exercises to prepare for their roles.  Other films like L’amour par terre and La bande des quatre deal fairly directly with theatrical performances, but in the context of more informal spaces rather than theaters themselves.

Another constant in Rivette’s work was his interest in process, as opposed to the finished product.  He didn’t just portray process (as in the preparations for a play), rather that for a while it became his working method.  He encouraged his actors (some of with whom he worked repeatedly, thus enabling their collaboration) not only to define/develop their characters, but also as an extension to contribute to the plots.  I don’t mean to overstate this — Rivette always had a clear idea of what he intended to do, and his pre-planning varied from film to film — but his working methods often led to fairly loosely constructed narratives.  Just one example, also from Out One: there’s an unexplained murder which has something to do with a conspiracy, and everything we’ve learned about movies leads us to expect that eventually the murder will be explained, but it isn’t.  Rivette just lets it drop.

Céline et Julie combines the two.  There’s an enclosing narrative, in which the two girls meet, one pursuing the other, which goes on for quite a while.  Soon they’re besties, and eventually sometimes exchanging identities.  This part of the movie is loosely constructed, with sequences that often don’t make sense in terms of constructing a coherent narrative, and often seem fairly random.

MAIS, le prochain jour . . .

Then there’s the house, 7bis rue Pomme-aux-Nadirs, set back from the street, enclosed, seemingly deserted, and (it isn’t clear exactly how, or maybe I’ve just forgotten) the girls end up in it, but are in turn, and repeatedly, unceremoniously ejected and can’t remember what happened to them inside.  But after the ejections, they discover that they have candies. . . which when sucked on, allow them to see what’s going on inside the house. It’s a play.  A play with classic character stereotypes and a tightly constructed plot, in complete contrast with what’s come before. But it isn’t a play in the sense of some people putting on a performance in a house, that could be interpreted as belonging to Céline and Julie’s reality. Now the camerawork is completely different, with static shots (partially echoing the view of an audience, more importantly constraining the action), as opposed to the more fluid shots in the enclosing narrative, where the camera often seems to be playing catch-up with the characters. And the colors are different. Rivette creates an entirely different reality (I was tempted to say “narrative space” 🙂 ), distinct from what we’ve (and more importantly, the girls) previously experienced.

At first, their glimpses into the house are brief, and they only get fragmented bits of the play. Repeated ‘visits’ contain repetitions of things they’ve already seen, but as the visits get longer, the girls eventually figure out what’s going on.

Then things get weird.

They start to mock the repetitions, reciting the dialogue as it’s being spoken, then start to interact with the characters in the play, insert themselves further into the play, and avert its terrible outcome.

In the end, Céline and Julie go on a boat ride and pass another boat on which are the characters from the house play.

Mais, le lendemain . . .

The whole thing starts over.

So, to me, absolutely fascinating. Rivette sets up a complete dichotomy – on the one hand, the girls (and the audience) have to reconstruct the pre-existing story of play; but on the other hand, Rivette takes the opposite tack, and it’s up to his viewers to piece together the bits ‘n’ bobs of the enclosing narrative and come up with a story of their own.

In any case, probably Rivette’s most interesting use of theater, excellent performances, and delightfully odd goofiness (which I haven’t mentioned — you’ll just have to watch it!)

“Celine and Julie Go Boating” is as terrible a translated name as is “The 400 Blows” (“faire les 400 coups” means “to raise hell”). The “vont en bateau” part is from the expression “prendre quelqu’un en bateau” (to take someone on a boat), which means to fool someone, to lead them down the garden path.