Tristana
A short sad story of how an ageing Don Juan seduced his nineteen-year-old orphan charge Tristana; how the girl became a virtual prisoner in the man's house; how she met a young spirited artist, fell in love and began to dream of escape, happiness and freedom. You think it is a tiresome piece of romance with a scandalous flavour? Then you are wrong. The author is Benito Pérez Galdós, and that means there will be no sappy happy ends, but unexpected plot twists and philosophy hidden behind the simple structure.
To begin with, the novel takes no less than the mighty archetype of Don Juan, the eternal seducer and sinner. The ageing Don Lope (whose real name is Don Juan López Garrido and who is compared directly to Don Juan Tenorio) is such a character. No woman is safe from him, and their pursuit is a sort of art with the man. Tristana is his last conquest. Yet if the thing were only to portray a late-nineteenth-century Don Juan (and one in his advanced years, which is somewhat new), it would have been too simple. There is more to Galdós's characters than just that.
Don Lope
The old libertine is still very interesting as a character. If Tristana were as internationally popular as, say, Harry Potter, I bet there would be innumerable holy wars in the Internet, with some people proclaiming don Lope an utter villain, and others finding justification for all his actions! (As it is, there exists a certain controversy in people's reviews.)
The ambiguity of attitude towards don Lope is strange, as the author explains everything about him from the beginning of the novel, through both direct and indirect characterisation. Don Lope is a relict of the past; 'good old times' they were - or what? In the century of progress, positivism and developing economies old values disappear, but don Lope keeps to the old notions of honour with all earnestness and sincerity, reminding one of another famous Don - Quixote... He despises money and ruins himself to help his best friends's family. Thanks to him, Tristana is not in the streets...
At the same time, his conscience, so very sensitive in matters of honour, sleeps profoundly in regards to women. He is sure that love justifies everything and, for that romantic notion, commits evil deeds - like making Tristana his mistress and thus ostracising the young lady from society. He thinks himself deeply in love with Tristana, but this affection is extremely selfish: he gives her no chance to live by herself. He establishes total control over his captive and, as a skilled, fine manipulator, smothers in her the very desire to escape.
And yet, in her darkest hour, don Lope is again ready to sacrifice everything to help her and stay close when all desert her (and again with the ultimate motive to keep her to himself as his possession!). What to think of such a man? The final assessment is to the reader.
Tristana
Tristana is maybe even more fascinating. Her unusual name (which is the title for the story) could hint at something. The first obvious association is triste, sad. Her story is tragic. That is not all, however. Her exalted mother chose the name for the love of noble knights stories, of the ideal world to serve as a norm and example for the contemporary gross, vulgar reality. So the daughter dreams of an ideal world, of something great and beautiful.
Tristan is a male name, and surprisingly, the heroine reveals qualities and ambitions that would be more fitting for a man of her times. She wants to be a free and honest woman; to have an occupation, to be independent! It is curious that her ideas are borrowed from her guardian-seducer, don Lope; the author says that neither of them was conscious of that influence. It happened spontaneously, and thus, she is his disciple. A female Don Juan?
She falls in love with her artist desperately and tempestuously, but she absolutely rejects marriage. At one moment, she exclaims: one for the other! Two in one! What nonsense selfishness invents! Why do we need this merging of characters? Let everyone be as God created them, and being different, we will love each other the more. (I do not have an English translation at hand, so I use my own words to render the original text. *shy*)
And how is her admiration for Lady MacBeth, quoting her words 'Unsex me here'?
And how is this - 'I protest, I want to protest against men who have grabbed everything for themselves, and never left to us women more than little narrow paths they are incapable of walking...'?
That sounds unbelievably modern. Personally, I was startled to read the same ideas, even in the same words ('I want to be something in the world'), that I found a week earlier in another book, written in the 21st century. But Tristana dates 1892! And yet the heroine voices thoughts that seem audacious and even crazy to her contemporaries, but are so natural now. And all of this written by a man!
The idea that women have a right to participate in public life, to be free and still respectable, is certainly precious and prominent in the book.
Yet there is a tiny worm that questions the thing, a subtle irony that even seems unkind to me. If Tristana had been just a fiery apostle of feminism, she would not have been so human, and the story would not have been as complex as it is.
She is not consistent or steadfast. The first subtle warning is in the story of her mother (and at first I wondered why Galdós took such pains to tell it at all!). That noble lady was well educated, loved literature, the old theatre plays of Spain's Golden Age, could quote long passages from her favourite plays. All that, after the death of her husband, came to nothing. The passion for culture was replaced by the insane mania of cleaning and washing. The poor widow forgot all she knew.
To a certain extent, Tristana shares her fate. As her love makes her long for escape, a passion for knowledge and self-development is awaken in her. She has too many longings: now she is sure she will become an artist, now she wants to play the piano, now to study languages... She plunges headlong into each new activity, but gets tired too soon. She is always ready to excuse her incapacity: she is no housewife, so it means she was born for greater doings... All her grand ideas come to nothing. Why? The question that plagues me (both while reading and watching the film adaptation): did her tragedy break her? Or would the result have been the same, were she healthy and happy? (On the contrary, would a truly extraordinary woman be stopped even by such hardship?)
Another greatly unpleasant moment concerns her young man, Horacio. He hates don Lope, Tristana's tyrant; and yet he himself is not unlike the old oppressor. Well, don Lope abhors marriage, and Horacio dreams of wedding his beloved Tristana; but what then? Her progressive ideas frighten him. He hopes that his 'Francesca da Rimini' will finally relent and, by accepting marriage, become 'more womanly, more domesticated, more ordinary and useful' (!). So the seemingly romantic young artist turns out to be as ultimately selfish as don Lope: he also wants to make the young woman his possession.
And it seemed at the beginning that all boded well for the couple! Horacio is just like Tristana in the way that he has also been a victim of manipulation - in his case, by his businessman uncle who despised artistic inclinations of the young man. By the way, that uncle loved him - but the nephew refers to him as his cruel jailor. The theme of love that becomes a prison, oppression, manipulation, is ever-present.
For me, it has been a novel most difficult to read. All of the characters betray their ideals, giving in to selfishness and disappointment. The 'happy end' is sadly ironical, as if a mockery. Still it is impossible not to recognise the bitter truth of what is told us.
The film adaptation of Tristana
In 1970, Luis Buñuel made another adaptation of Galdós: the film Tristana. Previously, he intended to leave cinema, but then ventured to make another film. In fact, he wanted to film that story earlier, in the 1960s, but it had been prohibited. Now he could realise his intention. Moreover, there was a possibility to work in the city of his birth: Toledo. (Transferring the action from Madrid to a provincial town corresponded to the director's ideas about the film.) Tristana was to be played by Catherine Deneuve, who was previously engaged for Buñuel's Belle de Jour (1967).
Some critics doubt the artistic value of Tristana, and practically all critics and viewers agree that the maître's earlier films surpass his later ones. If we think of the film's value as an adaptation, then, well... one has to remember that Luis Buñuel was a great director, and great directors never make letter-to-letter adaptations. :) They always add something of their own, cast the light of their individuality upon the story. So is the case.
It seems to me that Buñuel kept the main idea, while changing a lot and bringing in new themes. The 'feminist' one about the futility of a woman's attempt to establish herself as somebody in society seems not as prominent as in the book - or rather, is part of a more universal pattern. Degradation, loss of innocence, betrayal constitute the topic of the film.
(The following may be somewhat spoiler-ish, spoilers in grey, but please read anyway. :))
The three main characters struggle in the net woven by themselves.
Catherine Deneuve as Tristana... I never liked her, but the film is about her heroine. I must say a couple of words. Well, she seemed so silly at first, raising her eyes and casting them down swiftly, playing at innocence. (A private grumble: If twenty-something actresses who play teenagers just stopped showing Playful Youthfulness and just were themselves - oh, the result would be so much more gratifying!)
Still, the purity of her facial features conveys well enough the initial innocence of Tristana. Although her giving in to the old man is disturbing: not only is she passive, but goes almost eagerly to her downfall! Well, one can say that she did not even realise what she was into... so inexperienced she was. As Tristana matures, Catherine Deneuve seems to me more natural in her role. Suffering - tragic - embittered and rebellious against fate - wicked and cruel... Tristana does not keep up to her ideals - maybe because there was nothing to hold on to - so she betrays her dreams, gives up, degrades into a witch.
And who could blame her, judging what she went through? For a beautiful young woman to fall gravely ill - and then to have to endure indifference, trite empty questions out of politeness, false compassion? With the only person caring, her tormentor... The only way out seems to become false herself, to lash out at every opportunity, to embrace hypocrisy.
Don Lope, at first, produces an impression of a really weird Grandpa. A thief is running past him, and don Lope directs the pursuer the wrong way. Tristana, who witnesses the scene, is puzzled and asks why. The gentleman strikes a pose and exclaims that the thief is weak, and one must protect the weak against the strong!
The thief scene
Later, he refuses to be a second for a duel, because it is 'to first blood', and therefore, not serious enough for him. 'Crazy', you would think. The parallel with Don Juan is not immediately grasped. The gentleman's noble qualities are not apparent at once, and, as he seduces the girl, his behaviour is plainly disgusting.
But such is the talent of the great actor Fernando Rey who played don Lope that the old man induces most compassion in the end - despite everything!
It is immensely sad to witness his growing senility, his weakness. He gives up, same as Tristana. The one who denounced and despised church restrictions now invites priests to dinner, like old friends. And all the while, Tristana is walking restlessly above, her wooden crutches hitting the floor, like death knocking at his door.
Another well-known name: Franco Nero. He is the artist Horacio, an (empty) young man. He is selfish, as all of them. Falling in love, he pursues Tristana. They actually leave together (Galdós's plot being changed a lot!). It leads to nothing. Sated, Horacio becomes less romantic and more reasonable. He is ready to discuss things with don Lope and ask for his help when Tristana is ill. Ironically, it does not show the disinterestedness of his love, but his growing indifference. When he pays an obligatory visit to the convalescing young woman, he looks at his watch, impatient to leave. So much for love!
All of them are pretty hateful.
The trailer:
There are also secondary characters: the serving woman Saturna and her deaf-mute son Saturno, a good-for-nothing boy, a walking trouble. They are not hateful; I suspect that Buñuel sympathises with them. They are just poor working class people. There are many of such in the film, and so the social side of it inevitably draws one's attention to itself. Several times we see invalids, one-legged beggars. They can be counted as grim foreshadowing and more - one of such invalids is waiting outside the café when don Lope goes out, with a company of friends, and announces loudly that he has eaten well. The poor man never even catches his eye (so much for don Lope 'the socialist'!). A short sequence shows a mob of hungry people and the police driving away the riot. The world that the three main characters live in is wrong and unjust.
So seems Toledo. Buñuel said that he tried to avoid showing anything picturesque and glossy, like a tourist attraction. It must have been hard, given that Toledo is such a beautiful place. But in Tristana, it is oppressive and dark. All is stones - over-weighing humans, impassive, menacing... Many scenes are shot at night. The prevailing colours are brown, grey, black. Narrow streets, through which a mad dog wanders: so miserable, yet a menace while it lives. A world that smothers anything pure and good.
There is only a couple of surrealist moments in Tristana's dreams. She sees a severed head. A severed head, a cut-away leg, muteness of a boy - people are handicapped, they are disabled. The world is invalid.
Some accuse Buñuel of stark misanthropy, for the world he has shown is so wrong, hypocritical and cruel.
It is often written about this film that the action is transferred to the 1920s, but it did not seem to me so: duels, horse-driven carriages, old trains - and modern dresses and hairstyle of Deneuve - rather it is out of time, or time takes another dimension in the dead, staid provincial town.
No music enlivens the darkness, except for Chopin's Revolutionary Etude that Tristana plays when full of despair and bitterness (the scene; with spoiler).
All in all, the film seems to intensify the book's contents. It is not merely a sad story now, but a concentrated tragedy. It conveys the spirit of the original novel well: both the book and the film are deeply unpleasant; yes, as unpleasant to read and think through as it is to look closely at an invalid's injury. But does it mean that one should not see bitter truths?
P.S. If you still do NOT see the pics, then don't worry, they're nothing special, all can be found via Google by search terms "tristana luis bunuel 1972".
To begin with, the novel takes no less than the mighty archetype of Don Juan, the eternal seducer and sinner. The ageing Don Lope (whose real name is Don Juan López Garrido and who is compared directly to Don Juan Tenorio) is such a character. No woman is safe from him, and their pursuit is a sort of art with the man. Tristana is his last conquest. Yet if the thing were only to portray a late-nineteenth-century Don Juan (and one in his advanced years, which is somewhat new), it would have been too simple. There is more to Galdós's characters than just that.
Don Lope
The old libertine is still very interesting as a character. If Tristana were as internationally popular as, say, Harry Potter, I bet there would be innumerable holy wars in the Internet, with some people proclaiming don Lope an utter villain, and others finding justification for all his actions! (As it is, there exists a certain controversy in people's reviews.)
The ambiguity of attitude towards don Lope is strange, as the author explains everything about him from the beginning of the novel, through both direct and indirect characterisation. Don Lope is a relict of the past; 'good old times' they were - or what? In the century of progress, positivism and developing economies old values disappear, but don Lope keeps to the old notions of honour with all earnestness and sincerity, reminding one of another famous Don - Quixote... He despises money and ruins himself to help his best friends's family. Thanks to him, Tristana is not in the streets...
At the same time, his conscience, so very sensitive in matters of honour, sleeps profoundly in regards to women. He is sure that love justifies everything and, for that romantic notion, commits evil deeds - like making Tristana his mistress and thus ostracising the young lady from society. He thinks himself deeply in love with Tristana, but this affection is extremely selfish: he gives her no chance to live by herself. He establishes total control over his captive and, as a skilled, fine manipulator, smothers in her the very desire to escape.
And yet, in her darkest hour, don Lope is again ready to sacrifice everything to help her and stay close when all desert her (and again with the ultimate motive to keep her to himself as his possession!). What to think of such a man? The final assessment is to the reader.
Tristana
Tristana is maybe even more fascinating. Her unusual name (which is the title for the story) could hint at something. The first obvious association is triste, sad. Her story is tragic. That is not all, however. Her exalted mother chose the name for the love of noble knights stories, of the ideal world to serve as a norm and example for the contemporary gross, vulgar reality. So the daughter dreams of an ideal world, of something great and beautiful.
Tristan is a male name, and surprisingly, the heroine reveals qualities and ambitions that would be more fitting for a man of her times. She wants to be a free and honest woman; to have an occupation, to be independent! It is curious that her ideas are borrowed from her guardian-seducer, don Lope; the author says that neither of them was conscious of that influence. It happened spontaneously, and thus, she is his disciple. A female Don Juan?
She falls in love with her artist desperately and tempestuously, but she absolutely rejects marriage. At one moment, she exclaims: one for the other! Two in one! What nonsense selfishness invents! Why do we need this merging of characters? Let everyone be as God created them, and being different, we will love each other the more. (I do not have an English translation at hand, so I use my own words to render the original text. *shy*)
And how is her admiration for Lady MacBeth, quoting her words 'Unsex me here'?
And how is this - 'I protest, I want to protest against men who have grabbed everything for themselves, and never left to us women more than little narrow paths they are incapable of walking...'?
That sounds unbelievably modern. Personally, I was startled to read the same ideas, even in the same words ('I want to be something in the world'), that I found a week earlier in another book, written in the 21st century. But Tristana dates 1892! And yet the heroine voices thoughts that seem audacious and even crazy to her contemporaries, but are so natural now. And all of this written by a man!
The idea that women have a right to participate in public life, to be free and still respectable, is certainly precious and prominent in the book.
Yet there is a tiny worm that questions the thing, a subtle irony that even seems unkind to me. If Tristana had been just a fiery apostle of feminism, she would not have been so human, and the story would not have been as complex as it is.
She is not consistent or steadfast. The first subtle warning is in the story of her mother (and at first I wondered why Galdós took such pains to tell it at all!). That noble lady was well educated, loved literature, the old theatre plays of Spain's Golden Age, could quote long passages from her favourite plays. All that, after the death of her husband, came to nothing. The passion for culture was replaced by the insane mania of cleaning and washing. The poor widow forgot all she knew.
To a certain extent, Tristana shares her fate. As her love makes her long for escape, a passion for knowledge and self-development is awaken in her. She has too many longings: now she is sure she will become an artist, now she wants to play the piano, now to study languages... She plunges headlong into each new activity, but gets tired too soon. She is always ready to excuse her incapacity: she is no housewife, so it means she was born for greater doings... All her grand ideas come to nothing. Why? The question that plagues me (both while reading and watching the film adaptation): did her tragedy break her? Or would the result have been the same, were she healthy and happy? (On the contrary, would a truly extraordinary woman be stopped even by such hardship?)
Another greatly unpleasant moment concerns her young man, Horacio. He hates don Lope, Tristana's tyrant; and yet he himself is not unlike the old oppressor. Well, don Lope abhors marriage, and Horacio dreams of wedding his beloved Tristana; but what then? Her progressive ideas frighten him. He hopes that his 'Francesca da Rimini' will finally relent and, by accepting marriage, become 'more womanly, more domesticated, more ordinary and useful' (!). So the seemingly romantic young artist turns out to be as ultimately selfish as don Lope: he also wants to make the young woman his possession.
And it seemed at the beginning that all boded well for the couple! Horacio is just like Tristana in the way that he has also been a victim of manipulation - in his case, by his businessman uncle who despised artistic inclinations of the young man. By the way, that uncle loved him - but the nephew refers to him as his cruel jailor. The theme of love that becomes a prison, oppression, manipulation, is ever-present.
For me, it has been a novel most difficult to read. All of the characters betray their ideals, giving in to selfishness and disappointment. The 'happy end' is sadly ironical, as if a mockery. Still it is impossible not to recognise the bitter truth of what is told us.
The film adaptation of Tristana
In 1970, Luis Buñuel made another adaptation of Galdós: the film Tristana. Previously, he intended to leave cinema, but then ventured to make another film. In fact, he wanted to film that story earlier, in the 1960s, but it had been prohibited. Now he could realise his intention. Moreover, there was a possibility to work in the city of his birth: Toledo. (Transferring the action from Madrid to a provincial town corresponded to the director's ideas about the film.) Tristana was to be played by Catherine Deneuve, who was previously engaged for Buñuel's Belle de Jour (1967).
Some critics doubt the artistic value of Tristana, and practically all critics and viewers agree that the maître's earlier films surpass his later ones. If we think of the film's value as an adaptation, then, well... one has to remember that Luis Buñuel was a great director, and great directors never make letter-to-letter adaptations. :) They always add something of their own, cast the light of their individuality upon the story. So is the case.
It seems to me that Buñuel kept the main idea, while changing a lot and bringing in new themes. The 'feminist' one about the futility of a woman's attempt to establish herself as somebody in society seems not as prominent as in the book - or rather, is part of a more universal pattern. Degradation, loss of innocence, betrayal constitute the topic of the film.
(The following may be somewhat spoiler-ish, spoilers in grey, but please read anyway. :))
The three main characters struggle in the net woven by themselves.
Catherine Deneuve as Tristana... I never liked her, but the film is about her heroine. I must say a couple of words. Well, she seemed so silly at first, raising her eyes and casting them down swiftly, playing at innocence. (A private grumble: If twenty-something actresses who play teenagers just stopped showing Playful Youthfulness and just were themselves - oh, the result would be so much more gratifying!)
Still, the purity of her facial features conveys well enough the initial innocence of Tristana. Although her giving in to the old man is disturbing: not only is she passive, but goes almost eagerly to her downfall! Well, one can say that she did not even realise what she was into... so inexperienced she was. As Tristana matures, Catherine Deneuve seems to me more natural in her role. Suffering - tragic - embittered and rebellious against fate - wicked and cruel... Tristana does not keep up to her ideals - maybe because there was nothing to hold on to - so she betrays her dreams, gives up, degrades into a witch.
And who could blame her, judging what she went through? For a beautiful young woman to fall gravely ill - and then to have to endure indifference, trite empty questions out of politeness, false compassion? With the only person caring, her tormentor... The only way out seems to become false herself, to lash out at every opportunity, to embrace hypocrisy.
Don Lope, at first, produces an impression of a really weird Grandpa. A thief is running past him, and don Lope directs the pursuer the wrong way. Tristana, who witnesses the scene, is puzzled and asks why. The gentleman strikes a pose and exclaims that the thief is weak, and one must protect the weak against the strong!
Click to viewThe thief scene
Later, he refuses to be a second for a duel, because it is 'to first blood', and therefore, not serious enough for him. 'Crazy', you would think. The parallel with Don Juan is not immediately grasped. The gentleman's noble qualities are not apparent at once, and, as he seduces the girl, his behaviour is plainly disgusting.
But such is the talent of the great actor Fernando Rey who played don Lope that the old man induces most compassion in the end - despite everything!
It is immensely sad to witness his growing senility, his weakness. He gives up, same as Tristana. The one who denounced and despised church restrictions now invites priests to dinner, like old friends. And all the while, Tristana is walking restlessly above, her wooden crutches hitting the floor, like death knocking at his door.
Another well-known name: Franco Nero. He is the artist Horacio, an (empty) young man. He is selfish, as all of them. Falling in love, he pursues Tristana. They actually leave together (Galdós's plot being changed a lot!). It leads to nothing. Sated, Horacio becomes less romantic and more reasonable. He is ready to discuss things with don Lope and ask for his help when Tristana is ill. Ironically, it does not show the disinterestedness of his love, but his growing indifference. When he pays an obligatory visit to the convalescing young woman, he looks at his watch, impatient to leave. So much for love!
All of them are pretty hateful.
The trailer:
There are also secondary characters: the serving woman Saturna and her deaf-mute son Saturno, a good-for-nothing boy, a walking trouble. They are not hateful; I suspect that Buñuel sympathises with them. They are just poor working class people. There are many of such in the film, and so the social side of it inevitably draws one's attention to itself. Several times we see invalids, one-legged beggars. They can be counted as grim foreshadowing and more - one of such invalids is waiting outside the café when don Lope goes out, with a company of friends, and announces loudly that he has eaten well. The poor man never even catches his eye (so much for don Lope 'the socialist'!). A short sequence shows a mob of hungry people and the police driving away the riot. The world that the three main characters live in is wrong and unjust.
So seems Toledo. Buñuel said that he tried to avoid showing anything picturesque and glossy, like a tourist attraction. It must have been hard, given that Toledo is such a beautiful place. But in Tristana, it is oppressive and dark. All is stones - over-weighing humans, impassive, menacing... Many scenes are shot at night. The prevailing colours are brown, grey, black. Narrow streets, through which a mad dog wanders: so miserable, yet a menace while it lives. A world that smothers anything pure and good.
There is only a couple of surrealist moments in Tristana's dreams. She sees a severed head. A severed head, a cut-away leg, muteness of a boy - people are handicapped, they are disabled. The world is invalid.
Some accuse Buñuel of stark misanthropy, for the world he has shown is so wrong, hypocritical and cruel.
It is often written about this film that the action is transferred to the 1920s, but it did not seem to me so: duels, horse-driven carriages, old trains - and modern dresses and hairstyle of Deneuve - rather it is out of time, or time takes another dimension in the dead, staid provincial town.
No music enlivens the darkness, except for Chopin's Revolutionary Etude that Tristana plays when full of despair and bitterness (the scene; with spoiler).
All in all, the film seems to intensify the book's contents. It is not merely a sad story now, but a concentrated tragedy. It conveys the spirit of the original novel well: both the book and the film are deeply unpleasant; yes, as unpleasant to read and think through as it is to look closely at an invalid's injury. But does it mean that one should not see bitter truths?
P.S. If you still do NOT see the pics, then don't worry, they're nothing special, all can be found via Google by search terms "tristana luis bunuel 1972".