I remember seeing Bertolucci’s “Last Tango in Paris” when I was in my early 20s. A few years earlier, I had been stunned when seeing his formally exquisite, great film “The Conformist,” a political and psychoanalytic drama whose central figure is one of the more complex characters in contemporary film. “Last Tango” was a much rawer, looser work: improvisational, sexually explicit, and devoid of any overt politics—a film of interest but not majestic. It starred Marlon Brando (a celebrated and often a truly gifted actor) and a 19-year-old actress with few credits, Maria Schneider, who was cast without an audition. The film had been banned and considered “obscene” for a sexual scene involving sex and butter between Brando’s character and Schneider’s.
The film I just saw, “Being Maria,” directed by Jessica Palud, centers on Schneider, brilliantly played by Anamaria Vartolomei, who fully captures her anguish and self-destructiveness. Schneider finds herself traumatized and humiliated by the scandal of that infamous scene, one that Bertolucci sprung on her in the moment of it being filmed. Bertolucci wanted her spontaneous reaction to being sodomized (simulated, not actual); he didn’t want her to know it was coming, for he didn’t trust her as an actress. And he conspired with Brando (played with a skillful mixture of remoteness and paternalism by Matt Dillon) to make this scene successful. Though turning her into a scandalous star for the moment, the sensational episode seemingly traumatized Maria for life. Neither Bertolucci nor Brando, despite creating a good film, are absolved of their manipulations. Bertolucci seems to only care about his film—the consequences for Maria be dammed—and Brando, despite expressing a fatherly concern for Maria, collaborates in the deception without feeling any guilt. He sees it “as only a film,” nothing to be disturbed by.
The problem with the film is that most of its dramatic impact and interest occurs during the first half hour or so. After “Last Tango,” Maria ends up in a downward spiral which includes heroin addiction, partying wildly in night clubs, and acting out in general—often dropping roles in films halfway through production. She even ends up in a hospital getting electroshock treatments. There is more than breakdown here; she falls in love with a young film student (Celeste Brunnquell), but while there is a lot going on in this part of the film, little is illuminated. Maria is a wounded person from the beginning: her actor father Daniel Gélin (Yvon Attal) abandoning the family, her mother (Marie Gillain) giving her a hard time for wanting a relationship with the father and kicking her out of the house. Though the film does a lot with Marie’s behavior, however, it barely touches on her psyche—a work that is much more external than internal.
