In Censorship Tradition

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31085, 14 June 1966, Page 14

In Censorship Tradition

(By

PETER GRAHAM

in the

“financial Times”)

Among the films officially invited to participate at the Cannes Film Festival last month was “La Religieuse,” directed by Jacques Rivette. a former editor of Cahiers du Cinema. A faithful adaptation of Diderot’s classic, it shows that life in an eighteenth-century convent was not always as Christian as it was supposed to be, and was said by all those who had seen it to be a sober and sensitive film that had a good chance of winning a prize. And yet, barring surprises, “La Religieuse” will never be seen again by the public, outside film festivals, either in France or elsewhere. The total ban that Yvon Bourges, the Minister of Information, put on the film the previous month, is well in the tradition of French film censorship, which, as censorships go, has never been less than crass. The origins of “L’Affaire de La Religieuse”—for it has grown into a fully-fledged “affaire”—are classical. In 1962, the Commission de Precensure read Rivette’s scenario and said that the film would risk being banned. In 1965 it accepted a revised version, with the warning that the film would probably be banned to under 18s.

When shooting began in October of last year various associations of nuns decided to put pressure on the Government and agitate for the banning of the film, Alain Peyrefitte, the then Minister of Information, promised that he would accede to their request, after the Presidential elections, which were imminent. In January he handed over his Ministry (and 120,000 nuns’ letters) to Bourges.

Normally, everything would have worked smoothly from here. The censoring body, the Commission de Controle, made up of representatives from all walks of life, has built up a reputation for being extremely prudent on explosive subjects. But it calmly passed the film. Bourges then “invited” it to have another look at the film and “reconsider” its decision. He even brought along a Mother Superior. But they again passed the film, and the Mother Superior remained quite unperturbed, remarking simply that what was shown in the film “had happened 100 timfes” in real life. Bourges caught between, on the one side, the fury of the nuns and of the strict Catholic electors of his own constituency (the legislative elections are looming), and, on the other, the indignation of liberal public opinion, chose, like a true Gaullist, to affront the latter by overriding the censors and banning the film outright He certainly came in for a barrage of criticism. Almost everyone protested. Those one would expect to, Leftwing writers and directors, as well as some of the more independent-minded Gaullists such as Rene Capitant and Louis Vallon. The producer of the film, Georges de Beauregard, who has a flair for publicity, drew up a manifesto signed by 1789 people (Bardot was the first) and organised a series of meetings throughout the country at which such directors as Chabrol, Resnais, and Godard, spoke about the evils of censorship. Jean-Luc Godard, not normally the type of man to commit himself to a cause, paradoxically thanked Bourges for having opened his eyes to the totalitarianism of the regime, blithely forgetting the fact that his own films, “Le Petit Soldat,” had

been banned in similarly arbitrary circumstances five years earlier. The censors angrily demanded more freedom of action for themselves (!), and de Gaulle was said to be concerned about the proportions the affair was taking. REVERSE EFFECT Clearly the banning was not only arbitrary but unintelligent. Everyone agreed that the film did not differ from a stage version put on by Rivette in 1956 (tinmoilested by the censors) and that it was considerably less hard-hitting than the book, which had never even been put on the Index (needless to say, sales have since rocketed). And, as many Churchmen pointed out, the banning had the reverse effect to the one intended: instead of protecting the reputation of nuns, it made the Church seem bigoted and reactionary at a time when it was trying to build up a liberal image of itself.

And then, to cap everything, Andre Malraux, the Minister of Culture, said he had no objection to the film, new retitled “Suzanne Simonin. La Religieuse de Diderot,” representing France at Canines.

Although Bourges’s ban meant that the film could never be shown in public in France or exported to other countries (for fear of tarnishing France’s good name aboard), a film festival, even on French soil and attended by a French public, is apparently considered to be a case apart. To Bourges’s great embarrassment, the film was suggested to the administrative board of the festival by the selection committee as a candidate for an “official invitation” (in company with Renais’ new film, “La Guerre

est Finie—the candidate for an official “entry” into the competition being Lelouch’s "Un Homme et une Femme.” Then the unfortunate Bourges had to try to justify his well nigh unjustifiable decision before Parliament. He speciously tried to prove that the Fifth Republic had banned fewer films than the Fourth, and claimed that the film would shock nuns, who “formed a large part of the public.” (What he did not say was how many nuns go to the cinema). But above all he begged the whole question of censorship: he assumed that the present system whereby a film is censored before and after shooting, both officially (by the Commissions) and unofficially (through ecclesiastical pressure) is desirable. FILM REFUSED But one of the most sign* Scant developments of tha whole affair was the fact tbit Rivette’s film was accepted by the administrative board at the festival, whereas Resnais’a film was not, “La Guerre est Finie.”whose hero is a Spanish Republican who has been living in France since 1938, was refused because it was felt that it might offend Franco’s regime, which had sent two films to the festival. Basically, this should come, as no surprise; it fits in well with de Gaulle’s policy of treating the French publie like irresponsible children while bolstering his own prestige aboard. This contradiction which used to be a mere idiosyncrasy, has, with “La Religieuse,” become a farce.

When you go to London, hit the low joints, the pubs. That’s where you’ll see theatre. The best acting is done in the House of Commons. —Joan Littlewood