“Au Hasard Balthazar” (1966)

Au Hasard Balthazar

Grade: A+

When you watch the world through the eyes of a donkey — planet Earth’s most noble beast of burden — you begin to get a sense of just how cruel humanity is, while also sort of understanding how God must feel. The donkey as allegory for Jesus Christ: take a bow, Mr. Robert Bresson, now that’s cinema.

Directing:

For Au Hasard Balthazar, French director Robert Bresson employs an ascetic aesthetic: the camera movement is slow and plaintive, and the cinematography is modest and minimal, with a sun-dappled radiance permeating the unassuming everyday scenery. Like the titular donkey, we simply observe the actions of the human characters, from intolerable cruelty to occasional kindness, implored by Bresson to come to our own conclusions and reflect on what we find.

Bresson also makes frequent use of ellipses: showing us the setup for a scene (e.g., a young girl walking into a house to confront the group of boys who continually harass her) and then cutting to the aftermath (e.g., the girl crying naked in the corner of a room). Through it all, his naturalistic filmmaking elicits strong emotions and asks us to empathize. Au Hasard Balthazar does not judge, and therefore Bresson makes the audience do the same. The rarest of films: one that can make you a more conscientious person.

Acting:

In keeping with the film’s neorealism, Bresson uses non-professional actors. Lead girl Anne Wiazemsky is the modest country beauty who is continually beat down by those around her and accepts her fate because she doesn’t know any better — a part she plays very well. Like Balthazar, she is tortured and tormented, transferred from owner to owner, hopelessly waiting on their every whim. One of those owners is a young punk named Gérard (played by Françoise Lafarge), her main abuser/toxic “lover,” who has one of the most punchable faces in all of cinema. But, of course, the true star of the film is the donkey, who is the most natural actor of them all. Balthazar contains the world in his eyes.

Writing:

The storyline is simple but also unconventional. We follow Balthazar from birth to death, from one owner to the next and sometimes back again. Along the way, he is frequently compared to his human counterpart and first owner, Marie (Wiazemsky). Both of them experience the brutality of humanity at every turn, which can make this one of the most depressing movies you’ll ever see.

There are several deaths and several acts of violence, but Bresson’s direction is so matter-of-fact in its observation that any seemingly dramatic moment barely rises above a simmer — it’s all just another day. The squabbles between the human characters, which are often maddening, are ultimately rendered superfluous. Through the eyes of a donkey, the impulsive and perplexing decisions of Gérard and Marie mean nothing. Animals are animals, after all.

In a way, Au Hasard Balthazar is like Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane in how the film traces the course of one man’s life and the people he impacts along the way. In this case, however, man is substituted for donkey, but in both cases the only inner peace comes at the beginning and the end. The 18-second bray that starts the film is Balthazar’s own version of “Rosebud.” The story can be spiritually optimistic or heartbreakingly cynical, depending on how you look at it.

Music:

Bresson sentimentalizes nothing in Au Hasard Balthazar, and so it’s fitting that most of the music is diegetic (a few French rock ‘n’ roll songs played on the radio to emphasize the hoodlums’ thuggery). The only non-diegetic tracks are the sighing sounds of Franz Shubert’s Piano Sonata in A Major. Used smartly and sparingly, the piece is gentle and poignant — the only time Bresson injects palpable emotion onscreen. It’s a perfect match for Balthazar’s pain and suffering.

Ending (SPOILERS):

The fact that Balthazar gets shot isn’t any worse than the other tragedies he endures throughout the film. But the fact he gets to die in peace, in a picturesque field, surrounded by a shepherd and his flock, bells ringing, is a well-deserved fate. The film’s allegorical ending is very sad — here is a donkey who did what he was born to do, took his beatings, served his purpose, and now he dies for our sins, alone and forgotten. It’s so sad, in fact, that it compels us to be more loving. Who in their right mind could be hateful after watching a movie as bleak as this?

All in all, Au Hasard Balthazar is a harsh reminder that the world is a cruel, ugly and unforgiving place, and the universe is nothing if not indifferent. But if there exists a divine presence who can create something as plain and comforting and levelheaded as Balthazar, there’s hope for us yet, no? The donkey gracefully accepts his predetermined path, and so should we.

“Besides, he’s a saint.” — Marie’s mother

Why Au Hasard Balthazar gets an A+

One of the best French films of the 1960s. An enigmatic, allegorical slow-burn on par with Fellini’s La Dolce Vita (1960) and Bergman’s Persona (1966). The best movie Bresson ever made.

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