Despite being filmed in Brazil, ‘Adieu, Julie’ is full of French class. The Nouvelle Vague and Film Noir stylings drench every scene in a poetic mystery that is both charming and haunting. With influence from French cinema as well as the works of French poet Arthur Rimbaud, director Thaís DeMelo uses tropes from the past to create a vivid commentary on present day.
‘Adieu, Julie’ is mostly filmed in black and white which is strikingly effective as well as playing into the film’s ‘noir’ styling. The main character, Julie, also plays into this genre as the sunglasses, dark hair and lipstick are reminiscent of the ‘femme fatale’. Her extra-diegetic monologue narrates much of the film and shows a pessimism usually attached to the protagonist of a ‘film noir’, rather than the femme fatale who is considered an antagonist. This presents an interesting imbalance in the film as Julie has no external positive or negative influences; the plot is entirely controlled by her own actions. This portrayal of power is an interesting concept when set against the underlying themes of identity, love, death, and society and our control over them.
One of the first clear attacks on society occurs in a coffee shop. The styling of the film shifts slightly and appears more lighthearted and farcical, mostly due to upbeat jazz music. In this short section, DeMelo adds another film trope; intertitles from the silent film era. The lack of any diegetic sound in the scene with the continued presence of Julie’s narration gives a sort of modern rebirth to the idea of silent film. In the café, Julie discusses consumerism and the idea that if we are not consuming, then we are considered an inconvenience. This is visually explained as Julie sits reading in the café while the staff get increasingly agitated at the fact that she isn’t buying anything. The monologue itself is worth analysing as it presents some poetically charged ideas. The line “We are all inconvenient when we are not infected by the money in our hands” which appears in this scene is particularly interesting when considering our roles in society.
In the next stages of the film, rebellion against the idea that “life in society is imposed on us” begins. DeMelo explores what it is to exist in the eyes of government, within society and within ourselves. Although the film seems to adopt a pessimistic view of life, the question of what is left when we subtract everything society has made us is infused with an ethereal glow. Visually this is represented through the burning of items considered to prove identity including bank cards and a driving licence. References to things we own that are considered to improve our status such as cars and mobile phones link back to the earlier attack on consumerism. A life ‘free’ from these things is perhaps represented in a short sequence in colour where Julie is at a circus. Along with the notion that circuses are often at odds with the ‘norm’ in society, many existential questions are asked of the audience. This generates a level of audience engagement with the film through introspection of their own current affairs.
After establishing eloquently that many of the issues in society can be summed up in the word ‘capitalism’, DeMelo presents the struggle to be free. And of course, to be free from oppression – one must rebel. ‘Adieu, Julie’ presents, in a single scene, all the conventional ways of rebelling. Theft, drug and alcohol use are easily recognisable as ways of rebelling however there are more subtle references to the idea of breaking free. For example, the punk music that accompanies the scene is a genre that has long held connotations of rebellion against the establishment. Self-expression is represented through the form of dance and general free movement is in contrast to the earlier, composed images of the protagonist.
However, all these things provide only temporary freedoms and it appears that when Julie realises this, it pushes her over the edge of sanity. One of the most wonderful shots in this film includes a beautiful transition from black and white to colour as Julie holds her hands up to the camera. The sudden transition to diegetic sound is jarring as we hear Julie laughing almost hysterically. This sits uneasily with the viewer as we have previously been able to hide behind non-diegetic music and the swirling existentialism of rhetorical questions. Now in colour, with very little sound, the audience are forced to confront a reality of helplessness, inferiority and weakness; we all die in the end.
‘Adieu, Julie’ is a beautifully shot film with some powerful images and the potential to generate audience introspection. The messages are clear enough to be recognised but lie comfortably beneath a poetic mist that allows each individual viewer to take away something different. Thaís DeMelo has created a charmingly nihilistic work of visual poetry.
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