By Rhea Worrel
Mistaken identity is often a basis for comedy, but in The Return of Martin Guerre, it is the basis of an intellectually provocative fable and courtroom drama. The movie opens in 1542, as Bertrande de Rois and Martin Guerre are getting married in a crude stone farmhouse in rural France. They're about 14 years old.
The marriage is a dud. Martin is shy and refuses to make love to his lovely and kind wife; she is understanding, but the relatives aren't. Because no children are "produced," exorcisms of various kinds are performed. In time, a son is born, but Martin ignores him, remaining withdrawn and surly. One day the moody young man steals some grain and runs away from home. His shocked parents will die of grief...
Martin returns suddenly after nine long years, during which his wife has waited patiently for him. He meets and greets friends and relatives. There is celebration. He has learned to read and write, and teaches his wife to write. But his uncle is not thrilled, since Martin's actions have brought about his parents' death, and he now has a relative with claims on his property. Anyway, Martin seems different... he is bigger, stronger, drinks, has a beard, works hard, and knows how to read and write (Martin's aunt echoes her husband's and the townspeople's suspicions: "Reading and writing lead to all kind of mischief.") But Martin has forgotten where his family keeps the candles. A small lapse...
Most importantly, the new and improved Martin loves his wife. Sexually. Years pass and Martin and Bertrande are happy. They have 2 more children. Their sexual compatibility develops into a comfortable and profound emotional intimacy.
One day, a vagabond accuses Martin of being an imposter, and rumors begin to spread. Doubts begin to fester. To complicate matters, Martin has asked his uncle for his share of the farm's profits. But since he left home, his Uncle has cleverly married Bertrande's widowed mother, thus consolidating his holdings. He is furious at Martin's presumption and attacks him. There is jealousy and gossip. Bertrande saves Martin from an attempted lynching.
Then Martin is cross-examined by a kind and wise judge (The Councilor of Toulouse, Jean de Coras) in whom Bertrande has been confiding. When the judge asks the townspeople to vote on Martin's authenticity he is temporarily vindicated. However, Martin's uncle has forged Bertrande's signature to request Martin's arrest and trial as an imposter.
The purpose of the trial is ostensibly to determine once and for all whether a particular man was named Arnaud Pansetta or Martin Guerre. But it becomes much more, as issues of loyalty, human rights, property rights and social roles and expectations are raised. As the trial progresses, it becomes a moral and spiritual testing ground, not only for Martin and Bertrande, but also for the townspeople, the priest, and the judges. Martin Guerre argues in his own defense, alluding to his uncle's motives for discrediting him. And Martin's fate wavers back and forth. He once asks simply: "Is it a crime to care for a woman who's been deserted?"
I was struck by two ironies in Martin Guerre's predicament. The first is that a society would consider destroying a man who is a loving husband and good citizen for the victimless crime of impersonation. My personal theory is that the trial was not really about identity, but the sacredness of private property.
No one in the town had any interest in exposing Guerre until his uncle, motivated by greed and power, decided to do so. "The Rules" stated that only one man can own land or "own" a wife. To violate those rules was to upset the order of things. Martin's uncle said as much. Allowing Martin to stick around was to value the wishes and needs of a woman, and that could not be tolerated.
The second irony, closely related, is the sad plight of Martin's wife. Despite her exemplary virtues, virtues supposedly venerated by her peersÑkindness, honor, patience, industryÑBertrande's and her children's best interests are ignored. (She narrowly escaped condemnation and punishment as an adulteress). Her rights and happiness never entered into the decision of the court. The judges' decision would impact the Guerre's three children more than anyone else, yet they are excluded from any considerations during the proceedings.
I was reminded of another famous trial while writing thisÑthat of Jesus of Nazareth. True versus false identity was also an important factor in his trial. He had asked his Followers: "Who do men [sic] say that I am?" He repeatedly stated He was the Messiah, an assertion that delighted some because of his loving nature, and enraged others, because of the effect his loving nature would have on the established order of things. A lot of damage could be done, and it would be a great presumption if it weren't true...
Artistically, the film is perfect. The remarkable Gerard Depardieu racks up another superb performance, managing to charm the townspeople and us, the filmgoers, while retaining a subtle ambiguity about his eyes that suggests he may be keeping secrets. He manages to be sincere and devious, self-effacing and tricky at the same time, yet his good humor and loving nature win us over (Let's face it: The new, improved Martin is a mensch). The result of Depardieu's blend of motives is that we must ask ourselves: "So what if this otherwise good man is lying about his origins? How important are they compared to his deeds?"
Nathalie Baye's performance is equally affecting. She balances quiet strength and dignity with intelligence and affection in her characterization of a woman who has been wronged by church and state, who has lost her true love and chances for happiness, but will endure. This is a certainty.
The naturalistic settingÑa small, muddy farming villageÑwas engaging. Entwined with the telling of the tale are glimpses of the daily life of its people, their occupations, their communal and patriarchal values, their superstitions. The story develops through the web of daily routineÑthrough child-rearing, washing clothes, reaping and winnowing grain and treading grapes... Faces are soiled, hair is stringy, clothes are grimy and sweat-stained. Yet this is not cinema-verit?. The compelling social and intellectual issues raised by the story occupy our minds as the scenes progress.
The film's sound track is a provocative mixture of old and new elementsÑominous electronic grunts and squeaks (reminiscent of Pink Floyd's Meddle) and the thumping, vigorous, earthy sounds of fiddle, drum and flute. Their jolting folkdance rhythm resembles the events of the plot as they surge forward, suddenly halt, then start again.
It wouldn't be right to give away the ending of the film, but consider this. Just when it seems that the spirit of the law will triumph over the letter of law, a faceless one-legged man clumps his way into the courtroom...
Rhea Worrell is a Jane-of-all-trades and free-lance writer, who loves gardens and hates sequels. However, her permanent record states that she has an M.A. in English and lives in a house with vinyl siding.