Word: moreau
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Viva Maria! gives Brigitte Bardot one of the best roles of her career and Jeanne Moreau one of her worst. Fortunately, Moreau treats the handicap lightly, as if she were taking up tent-show theatricals just for the hell of it. Together, the two co-stars perform miracles of wit, charm and camera-wise witchery in this jaunty but slipshod farce written and directed by France's Louis Malle...
...striptease, seizing with girlish delight upon a gaping seam and a stubborn snap as though the benefits to mankind might rival the discovery of radium. Finally, they fall jointly in love with a doomed revolutionary (George Hamilton) and continue to inflame the peasantry in his name. As Maria I, Moreau drolly helps the cause by improvising bits of the funeral oration from Julius Caesar, although most of the time she plays second banana to Maria II. A tomboyish Mata Hari who spent her childhood in Ireland as a mad bomber, Bardot gets the flashier jobs, manning a machine gun, planting...
...Cannes Claude picks up Jeanne Moreau in the classic style: they both win on number 17. They have streaks of luck, lose it all, then make a killing, and buy their way into the Jet Set. He gets a tux, she a couple of evening gowns, and they check into Monte Carlo. The luxury, like the poverty, seems hard: there are the same straight lines, the same stark blacks and whites, set off by the flickers of brocade and jewelry. But the hardness is unreal because it has no effect on the people within it. Jeanne lives only...
...Jeanne Moreau: Yep. A bourgeois institution, and dull...
Director Losey tries to cover cliches with camera trickery. He works from arresting angles, all but caressing the decor of a world made to order for the filthy rich. Fond of polished surfaces, he dotes on reflections in mirrors, sunglasses, brandy snifters. But the validity of Eva lies in Moreau's accomplished bitchery. As a sleek alley cat commuting at her whim between Venice and Rome, she slinks from warm beds to warm baths, purring over her furs and silks and blues records with such hypnotic self-absorption that even a silly role begins to seem not just interesting...