In this blog post, we’ll examine what “dépaysement”—a representative technique of Surrealism—is, and explore how it is portrayed in Louis Brouel’s films ‘The Ambiguous Object of Desire’ and ‘The Illusion of Freedom’.
Dépaysement: The Crown Jewel of Surrealism
Dépaysement is a technique that involves transferring an object from its everyday setting to an alien environment, thereby eliminating its practical nature and revealing the bizarre encounter between objects that do not belong together. Originally meaning “a change of setting,” this technique aims to deliver a powerful shock deep within the viewer’s senses through such arrangements. The line “as beautiful as a sewing machine and a parasol meeting on a dissection table,” which appears in the poetry of Lautréamont—regarded as a pioneer of Surrealism—is arguably one of the best expressions to describe dépaysement.
‘The Ambiguous Object of Desire’—A Film That Puts the Audience at Ease Yet Is Far from Simple
I believe ‘The Ambiguous Object of Desire’ is one of Louis Brouel’s films that is relatively accessible to audiences. This is also related to the way we have come to understand the world. The story, which unfolds sequentially, layer by layer, is not vastly different from the narrative structure of the “Once upon a time” stories my grandmother used to tell me as a child. Although the central axis of the story is the flashback in which the bourgeois Mathieu recounts his past to his fellow passengers while traveling by train, ‘The Ambiguous Object of Desire’ ultimately unfolds based on a relatively traditional narrative structure. It is a story about the relationship between Mathieu, a bourgeois man, and Conchita, a poor woman. I believe this work has been talked about for so long because the master director Brouel added his own unique touch to the conventional framework often seen in TV dramas and movies.
Desire is the product of a lack. However, it remains ambiguous exactly what Mathieu and Conchita are trying to use to fill their respective voids. Both constantly play a game of hide-and-seek and tug-of-war in the name of love, but was it really because of love? The word “love” is sweet and alluring, but at the same time, it is a very ambiguous concept.
In this film, Bruel constantly poses the question, “What do humans want?” This can be inferred through various devices scattered throughout the film. What did the mouse caught in the trap want? What did the fly that fell into the glass of wine want? The answer is simple. The mouse and the fly’s lack was hunger. In order to satisfy their hunger, they rushed in without regard for danger and ultimately met their deaths. In this way, animals are the beings that, in our view, reveal their desires most purely. Animals are aware of their desires and act upon them directly, but humans hide their desires and seek other forms of expression to replace them.
I believed that, under the guise of love, Mathieu viewed Conchita as an object to satisfy his sexual desires. The gifts and roses he gave her ultimately read as symbols meaning, “Sleep with me.” Conversely, I believed that Conchita, too, viewed Mathieu as a means to satisfy her financial needs. Citing the pretext of chastity as a strategy to extract money from Mathieu, she, too, chooses the word “love.” However, one could say that Conchita is more cunning than Mathieu. While gradually revealing her body, she ensures that Mathieu cannot reach the ultimate desire he truly craves. Desire loses its power the moment it is easily satisfied. Conchita constantly stirs up Mathieu’s passion but never lets it fully ignite. Conchita’s mother, too, touts the chastity of a woman of faith but ultimately bows down before money.
In the film’s final scene, the camera focuses on Mathieu and Conchita standing in front of a store window. Inside the window, pieces of torn fabric are gradually being sewn back together. This led me to a rather far-reaching thought: I wondered if filling a void in one’s desires—much like the process of mending torn fabric—might not be a natural thing after all. However, the values and conventions of a society that oppresses people prevent them from revealing their desires as they truly are. Thus, people seek excuses to express their desires indirectly. The film concludes with an explosion heard at the very end, as black smoke engulfs the screen. I wondered if Bruel intended to convey that “while humans try to package their desires in a plausible way, in the end, they are like smoke that dissipates without substance.”
‘The Illusion of Freedom’—The Power of Déphasage
If Bruel made ‘The Ambiguous Object of Desire’ in a relatively structured manner, ‘The Illusion of Freedom’ feels like a work born from a much freer imagination. Unlike ‘The Ambiguous Object of Desire’, ‘The Illusion of Freedom’ unfolds as a chain of disjointed episodes. It offers an experience akin to viewing individual works one after another in a surrealist art museum. I believe this freshness is precisely the greatest charm of ‘The Illusion of Freedom’.
The film opens with a scene reminiscent of Francisco Goya’s painting, best known for the execution depicted on May 3, 1808. A caption then appears stating, “The story begins in Toledo, Spain, in 1902,” but before long, the narrative shifts to modern-day France. Bruel offers no particular explanation for this leap in time. Through the narration of a housekeeper sitting on a bench reading a book, the film skips over several decades in a single bound.
Bruel reveals his thoughts through various episodes that could each be viewed as independent works in their own right. Scenes that subvert the ideas and customs society has long suppressed follow one after another: people who consider taking photos at tourist sites taboo; priests who smoke and drink; clergymen who enjoy gambling; a young man in love with his aunt; people conversing while sitting on toilets; conversely, people hiding in a small room to eat; and a killer who is welcomed.
What catches the eye even more than the themes Bruel seeks to convey or the narrative’s lack of causality is the “dépaysement” technique favored by the Surrealists. Déphasage delivers a strange and intense shock to the audience by placing incongruous environments and objects within a single space. Generally, to portray a character suffering from insomnia, filmmakers would use blurry transitions or a vacant gaze. However, true to his surrealist roots, Bruel expresses insomnia in a much fresher and more humorous way.
Foucault cannot fall asleep. Then, a chicken walks past his bed, followed by a woman, a mailman, and an ostrich. The mailman even rides his bicycle into the room to deliver the mail. Entities that are completely out of place in a bedroom appear as if it were the most natural thing in the world. What a whimsical and witty concept! Bruegel had previously featured a dairy cow on a bed in his earlier work, ‘The Golden Age’. In ‘The Illusion of Freedom’, he once again gives full rein to his imagination in ways the audience would never have anticipated. A tank chasing a fox, a toilet placed in a restaurant, a dining table and food set up in a bathroom, and a telephone placed next to a coffin—these elements shake up the everyday order we’ve come to take for granted.
‘The Illusion of Freedom’, like ‘The Ambiguous Object of Desire’, does not unfold around a specific causal relationship. Time, too, moves freely. Rather than conveying a theme through a single narrative, it reveals Bruel’s thought process through a series of episodes. Furthermore, by actively employing ‘dépaysement’—a technique used by Surrealist artists such as Salvador Dalí and René Magritte—it shakes up the audience’s preconceptions. The combination of incongruous objects and environments goes beyond mere strangeness to suggest new possibilities for thought. And it is precisely at this point that dépayse-ment earns its status as the crowning achievement of Surrealism.
