A review of possibly the most treasured film of the year – personally speaking – was intended to close the chapter that is 1979 in Film. Yet the turbulent tide of film criticism can often divert you far deeper behind the scenes than merely glazing the surface of the moving image. That film, on this visit, is Tess.
Teresa ‘Tess’ Durbeyfield was a pure woman faithfully presented to varying degrees and success, across many mediums in a period of a hundred years. Give or take. Theatre, Broadway, West End; a musical, a rock opera, an Italian opera; television adaptations – with the BBC involved, naturally. And film. But not as many as you think.
Tess of the d’Urbervilles would be embodied by many a lady – Minnie Maddern Fiske, Gertrude Bugler, Barbara Jefford. Some you will have heard of, like Geraldine McEwan and Gemma Arterton. And the fairest of them all – and most exotic – Nastassja Kinski, in the 1979 film version. The film won three of its six Academy Awards nominations (including a nod for the director), and perhaps more notably, won Best Film and Director at the 5th César Awards.
“The maturation of cinema’s more formidable genres, the year of 1979 bid a moody farewell to the illustrious decade.”
In 1979, we look back at an immeasurably memorable year, to close out what was an unequivocally marvelous decade. Just look at the Academy Award Best Picture recipients. A mental health arena; post-traumatic stress; crooked cops; back-to-back depictions of the Corleone family. Even a comedy would nab the big prize, over the gargantuan space opera no less. The separation melodrama and the underdog boxing picture would not seem so out of place in any other decade.
For the filmmakers swinging their bats with ground-breaking creativity. The actors and actresses, tried and tested, taking the kind of risks that actually seemed a part of convention once the decade kicked in. Audiences swept off their feet, startled out of their seats, if not firmly on the edge of them. The liberation of a more graphic, honest cinema, almost like the art form itself had hit adulthood.
And so, the spotlight of the world’s criminal side, and the maturation of cinema’s more formidable genres, the year of 1979 bid a moody farewell to the illustrious decade. Yet still, we hold our rudimentary thoughts on two masterful motion pictures, from two rather contentious directors. A familiar, darker sense of art imitating life, and all that jazz.
Read: 1979 in Film – Manhattan
Reputations of which have tainted our open appreciation of such films. No longer, nor has it been for years, is it jovial to strike up a conversation about their latest films, lavishing it with unadulterated praise. At least, not without filtering your verbal intention with the unfathomable level of appropriateness it might yield. Oh, but they did that in real life. Can we call them greats anymore? Are we still allowed to like their movies?
Must we delve into the whole product of art versus the personal actions of the artist? Though we ought not to call them artists in the context of their sins that can not be undone. Our own Joel Melendez tread carefully with his recent admiration of Manhattan, the 1979 film that was the follow-up to the filmmaker’s big Oscar winner two years prior.
And here there’d ideally be only a reflection of the artistry on display of the other film in conversation – the magnificent Tess. But the separating of the two is not easy – be it spoken, written, or even while articulating your own thoughts. I may be the world’s greatest blogger, but what you don’t see is that I’m basically a bastard.
“Must we delve into the whole product of art versus the personal actions of the artist?”
Let’s critique the achievements of The Tenant (1976), Macbeth (1971), Rosemary’s Baby (1968) or Knife in the Water (1962). Without even allowing ourselves to process the very reason why the man responsible is no longer allowed in the United States. The provocation of which had not even occurred (at least on the occasion in question) when those films were made. And what of the unforgettable Chinatown (1974), only a few years apart either side of two very different bouts of life-altering trauma for the director. Also his last film-making outing on American soil.
An extraordinary (used adversely here), unprecedented Best Director prize would go to the man who would not even be able to attend the ceremony to take to the stage in 2003. Following it’s Palme d’Or win a year earlier, The Pianist would have audiences in somber awe. All the while, still that niggle as to whether these prizes should befall this director were felt in all corners of the film-viewing world. Of course, being expelled by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences fifteen years later, says something or little about the encouragement of upholding standards.
We didn’t forget, but time sure did help us make less noise about the illegal antics of a filmmaker. Prior to the #MeToo movement. Especially when they deliver what many call a masterpiece. The Pianist‘s uncompromising success may well be what instigated the re-emergence of the 1979 film, Tess, on DVD. A film which seemed to vanish from circulation a decade or so earlier. Do we know why? Can we speculate?
Listen: the 1979 in Film Podcast
Tess, adapted from the novel, ‘Tess of the d’Urbervilles: A Pure Woman Faithfully Presented’, by Thomas Hardy, is an intoxicating, beautiful film. One which ought to lap up the acclaim for its cinematic excellence, without such good taste being diluted by real-life personal conduct. Such that is not condoned. It’s a film this reviewer wanted to pine over for pages and pages, but doesn’t look like the knack for disengagement is very convincing here.
Nonetheless, the 1979 film is a meticulously crafted interpretation of the Hardy novel. Rivaling the poverty-stricken with the well-to-do folk in the English countryside of the late nineteenth century. The eldest child of village peasants, Tess (Nastassja Kinski), is sent off to find work with the possibly relations of sorts. The D’Urberville name is a noble one, and the link between the two classes seems unlikely.
On arrival, Tess meets Alec (Leigh Lawson), a somewhat leery individual who insists he feed her one of their delicious strawberries. His attempt to seduce her is received with constant rejection. Except when Tess falls asleep in a forest, and before you know it she is no longer a virgin, and expecting a child. The trauma that comes her way is also a huge stepping stone in Tess’ long journey of self-growth.
Tess’ heart does begin to glow, however, when she befriends milkmaids, and meets Angel (Peter Firth). In a wonderful scene when he carries them all across a brook, he tells Tess, whom he takes last, that it was her he was looking at all along. After they are married, Angel feels he has to come clean about a brief affair he once had with an older woman. In turn, Tess confesses her sordid liaison with Alec and the consequences thereafter.
“The 1979 film [Tess] is a meticulously crafted interpretation of the Hardy novel.”
Just like those love-struck fools in classic romantic literature, they part ways. Angel is later told by one of the milkmaids, that “nobody could love you more than Tess.” Told you, fool. Meanwhile, the over-bearing Alec pretty much stalks Tess, weighing her down with his persistence. Will Angel come to his senses and track Tess down? Will it be too late? Can Tess stand strong in a world surrounded by men?
I wonder what someone like Samantha Geimer truly thinks of the film version of Tess. Where what you might call a relentless, sexual predator, Alec d’Urberville, manages not only to get away with rape, but also have her as his mistress years later. A harshly prodded plot synopsis not to dismay bold, classic literature, nor to rain on the 1979 adaptation. Which, as already stated, is one of the finest in cinema outright.
In fact, Dorset, England has never looked so gorgeous in this particular way before. Largely due to the immense views provided by cinematographer Geoffrey Unsworth, who sadly died of a heart attack during filming. Frenchman Ghislain Cloquet stepped in behind the lens, and the results make for a magic visual collaboration.
But also, Tess was actually shot in the lush rural landscape of France, rather than England. I mean, for this particular director to rework an English story in the native land itself, would activate the extradition laws should you step foot there. That’s just the way the cookie crumbles when you have sex with a minor, and flee the United States before being sentenced.
Watch: the Best 50 Films of 1979
And whether you like to fuck young girls or not, and are willing to admit it on, say, a television broadcast, you have to seriously understand the ramifications of such a taboo afternoon delight. You can still hear the questions. When did Geimer sense the wrong-doing? Was it a European thing? Can you really call it rape? That’s a classic one. You might have heard of one of the populist mutterers of such a flimsy defense. The one and only man-of-the-hour, supernerd filmmaker blurted out “Not for these 13 year-old party girls.” and that “She was down with it.” on a radio show in 2003. Is that an American thing? Howard Stern doesn’t think so.
In his tenth film, the newly released and pot-stirring, Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood, the character of Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie) picks up a copy of Thomas Hardy’s ‘Tess of the d’Urbervilles: A Pure Woman Faithfully Presented’. Good title. The book is a gift for her filmmaker husband, whom she recommends making a film version of it, and perhaps having her play the central character.
You may have heard that Tate was actually in Europe at the time of purchasing the book. Or that it was actually actress Julie Christie who shook the pages in her face, following her very recent appearance in a film version of Thomas Hardy`s Far from the Madding Crowd. Irregardless, its neither here nor there – especially given the crowd-splitting director’s love for history revisionism.
“Nastassja Kinski radiates the screen in all her pensive, broody moments.”
In real life, the book suggestion was one of, if not the, last times Tate spoke with her husband. The horrific events that took place at 10050 Cielo Drive on 9th August, 1969, meant it was impossible for her to ever play Tess. Ten years later, when Tess was released, the words “To Sharon” at the beginning of the film, marked a poignant dedication to the actress. In case you didn’t know that already.
And in some ways, Tess does give Sharon Tate some honor. Nastassja Kinski radiates the screen in all her pensive, broody moments. Even her accent feels neighbourly to a Brit, listening to her speak with the slight tinge of German brings a fitting fragility to Tess. The film centres on her morals and place in the world. Does she ever really find out? That score by Philippe Sarde, too, gives added depth to the emotion of Tess’s bumpy journey.
The director, of course, clearly busted a gut to make Tess as authentic as he wanted it. A man who had been a child at the invasion of Poland during World War II. He had to hear about the brutal murder of his eight month pregnant wife, and then endure the media pointing a finger at him.
As for the events prior to the filming of Tess, those that were not passive, and were in his control. Its an uncomfort zone in its own right, sadly clouding the masterful, exquisite, faithful presentation of a pure woman. And in turn, you’re now reading the churning ramblings of someone who just wanted to project an adoring appraisal of Tess. “However, our impulses are too strong for our judgement sometimes.”
