Though I guess it’s not what one wants to hear at the beginning of a movie review, I’ll own up to the truth of the situation and just go ahead and admit it. My memory of this film is not very clear... in fact, it is fairly hazy and dim, which is somewhat understandable as it has been a few months since my viewing of it. And these were not cold, crystalline, and conservative winter months... no, on the contrary they have been hot summer months in NYC filled with champagne bottles, midnight bicycle rides, and relationships in flux... filled with long hours of sunlight shining against the buildings, visitors sleeping on the couch, and lost afternoons... filled with things we never knew mattered before, things we will never remember, and things we will never forget.
With all that has happened in the intervening months between then and now, how can I possibly be expected to dig back into all of those memories and pull forth a single specific memory with enough detail to provide a coherent and comprehensive review of a film that I have only seen one time? But that is exactly what I must do, what I have set out to do. And I know this is a film, like the other Morality Tales by Eric Rohmer, that is built on philosophical dialogue, subtle character development, and deftly handled minor dramatic flourishes all of which are woven together into a harmonic narrative vibration greater than the sum of its parts... the essence of the film resides in the interaction of small details, and the details are what I cannot remember.
No matter... I planned ahead. Prior Planning Prevents Poor Performance. I took notes... notes that I now see are stained with whatever alcoholic beverage I was imbibing while watching "My Night at Maud’s" all those months ago. Actually I can tell you what I was drinking, it was a champagne and cognac cocktail called the French 75. Yep, I remember that detail because you never forget the things that you make with your own hands. So, my notes say that the first 10 minutes of the film are of a Mass in a dour Catholic Church in which our protagonist silently fixes his gaze on the only pretty young blonde girl and decides there and then that she will be his future wife. (Sure enough, by film’s end she has become his wife. But don’t think I’ve spoiled anything for those of you who have gone against the RAW rules and are READING BEFORE WATCHING... his marriage to the blonde isn’t the sort of detail that matters in this sort of story; what matters is how he responds to the temptations and travails that come in the time between his decision to marry her and the eventual completion of that goal.)
Then my notes say that the characters have a series of long and protracted conversations, all of which keep returning to the essential philosophical nub of this film, which is Pascal’s Wager -- can we dare to not believe in God?
Pascal argues that logically we must believe in God, because the value of believing in God and being correct in that belief would earn us the greatest reward possible... life everlasting. (Which, if you ask me, could also be seen as the greatest tragedy... what action is worth taking if time is taken out of the equation? what sort of meaning remains if everything is forever, and “loss” and “gain” no longer exist? if everything is perfection, then we can never reach for it...) Or, to put it mathematically, his wager is about potential gain divided by probability, and when the potential gain is Everything then the odds are immaterial... against Infinity all other numbers are essentially zero. But that doesn’t sound like the kind of bet that makes a gambling junkie’s pulse jump off the vascular tracks... (side note: go now and rent "California Split" to learn the truth about gambling, and watch the tragedy that occurs when a gambler no longer has any need to put himself on the line against chance)
And then my notes dissolve into a useless mess, with phrases like:
“if history has no meaning, then we must create our own meaning = aesthetic sovereign”
“Choose Your Own Adventure”
“blondes are boring... get with this saucy brunette”
“it is easy to be faithful to nothing”
“enough talking, get into that bed and fuck her already!”
Perhaps DRINKING WHILE WATCHING clouded my ability to create an unsullied memory of this film as I was living that moment... but I must say that all this digging into my sloppy notes and my blunted memories is enabling me to enjoy an extended experience of searching and striving as I try to write this review, and I guess that is my answer to Pascal’s Wager... I’d rather dig about in the muck and the madness and get it all wrong than put my money and my life on the logical bet and hope I get the perfect movie review by living safe and sane. But that’s just me...
So I can think of only one 'logical' way to tie up this review... with a question: if it had been your night at Maud’s, what would you have done?
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