I saw this in the theatre back when it first arrived here. It knocked me on my ass. I fell in love with Béatrice Dalle. It would be a couple of years before Julia Roberts “arrived” with Pretty Woman (1990), but Dalle’s “arrival” felt similar, in retrospect. She was suddenly everywhere. She was so captivating, so bold, so CASUAL with the camera, it was like the camera wasn’t even there. You can’t bottle charisma, and it can’t be taught. I saw the film as a stark-cold tragedy back then, although for the majority of the film it’s a romantic drama, with plenty of comedic moments, and even slapstick. Seeing it again as an adult, I’m not quite sure about its ending, or about the mental illness aspect. There are signs that Betty Blue is not exactly stable. I love her single-minded obsession with getting her boyfriend’s manuscript typed up and sent out to publishers. As well as her obsession with waiting for a reply from publishers. Her behavior is a warning sign of what is to come.
One of the strongest elements of Betty Blue is how it is shot, how it is directed, the beauty of its framing, its color schemes, its potent atmospheres – those colored shacks on the beach, you can practically smell the salt in the air, that ocean smell. But then there’s that rickety “hotel” they stay in, its strange architecture … and the piano store, those golden and blue lights … with the house attached, filled with old-fashioned furniture. Every atmosphere doesn’t feel real, not exactly – it’s more like a MOOD. Like the whole film is based on the pathetic fallacy.
Béatrice Dalle, though, is the reason to see it. I remember thinking, as pretty much everyone was thinking, “Who ARE you and where have you BEEN all my life.”
