Otto Preminger's Bonjour Tristesse is a cinematic paradox. It is a film constructed of the purest of Hollywood opulence: handsome actors, beautiful actresses, an exotic seaside setting, and lush late 50's studio cinematography, the kind that combated the rise of television by cramming the screen full of as many bold colors and dazzling images as possible. And yet, it is a viciously damning indictment of unfettered wealth and that special kind of laziness that infests those free from the burden of work. The film concerns a young teenager named Cécile (Jean Seberg) who lives with her father Raymond (David Niven) on the French Riviera. However, when Raymond announces his marriage to an old friend named Anne Larsen (Deborah Kerr), she begins to scheme of ways to break them apart. Brushing aside any suggestions of incestuous undertones (although Preminger certainly seems eager to show them acting oddly affectionate towards each other), there is only one possible explanation for Cécile's desire to break up his father's marriage: Anne has the unmitigated audacity to make her stop lazing around, study for school, and try and make something of herself. But Cécile's machinations turn unexpectedly violent, leading to a horrific accident that lays bare the true extent of her family's apathy. Preminger's cynicism melds together with the film's extravagance a little too naturally for comfort. Even as Cécile throws tantrums about Anne, Preminger takes great care to position Seberg within the frame so that her youthful body and endless supply of bright, tightly-fitted outfits is best displayed. He utilizes an almost Sirkian color palette, ignoring shadows except for brief black-and-white segments scattered throughout the film that show Cécile's guilt in the aftermath of the accident. Even a night-time sequence where a massive crowd dances in the streets seems blindingly illuminated. Preminger hides nothing in Bonjour Tristesse. It is a film about guilt and greed; of anagnorisis borne of lethargy.
7/10
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