Brigitte Bardot – The Book of the Duchess

Brigitte Bardot’s Selfdom and Bliss at Ninety

By Elena Vassilieva

When the world caught a glimpse of Brigitte Bardot for the first time, both men and women alike thought that a goddess appeared before their eyes. It didn’t happen by chance that Roger Vadim, a French screenwriter and director, Bardot’s first husband and friend, would choose the following opening sentence for his memoir: “The goddess of love had not been seen emerging from the sea since Botticelli painted Venus floating on a mother-of-pearl shell. But this was the spectacle that two thousand American marines witnessed on May 12, 1953, at 11:30 A.M. from the aircraft carrier Enterprise, anchored in the Bay of Cannes. […] The sailors of the Enterprise knew a goddess when they saw one even if they didn’t know her name.” (Vadim, 1986, p. 13) He then recounts how at that time Brigitte Bardot already held photographers and reporters spellbound, they would abandon other movie stars and would instead follow her everywhere. “I remember one afternoon,” he recalls, “when I was one of the few journalists interviewing Lollobrigida, Kim Novak and Kirk Douglas in a conference hall of the Palais du Festival. All the other journalists were out chasing my wife.” (Ibid., 14f) She co-starred with Kirk Douglas in “Act of Love” (1953), and that made her visible to American moviegoers. Although Brigitte Bardot was much admired in France ever since she started her modeling and film career in her teenage years, but, as Roger Vadim writes, it was that spring of 1953 in Cannes that the Bardot ‘phenomenon’ took on international proportions. Instantaneously she became an object of desire and obsession, “an impossible dream of every married man.” (Ibid.)

And if dream(ing) is an essential part of the mythologizing process of any exceptional human being, then Brigitte Bardot’s phenomenon can’t be explained through mere sex symbolism. Both processes of conscious dreaming and mythologizing are deeply rooted in creativity. Hence, Brigitte Bardot, simultaneously a divine object and a goddess-like subject, actively stimulates both processes in her admirers’ consciousness. The divine, Bardot’s natural beauty, that is, evokes not only curiosity, but foremost adoration. In this case, Brigitte Bardot is not simply a passive icon or symbol, she is an artist who transforms her admirers into active participants in this imaginative performance art. Together they create the myth, hence it’s a highly collaborative process, which happens spontaneously, and both consciously and subconsciously. Interestingly, her favors and temporary protection don’t guarantee all those fortunate ones, who felt her touch, say, her spouses or close friends, would be able to solve her mystery. Ironically, they are all left defeated. One wonders why? And I believe that the key cannot be found that easily if at all. One possible solution could be, what she herself has implied from early on and to this day, her selfdom. It is a recurring theme for her, and one encounters it in many of her interviews.

In 1971, Brigitte Bardot was interviewed on the set of “The Legend of Frenchie King” (Les Pétroleuses), directed by Christian-Jaque and filmed in Spain. The enthralled interviewer said to her: “One thing struck me watching you work, and I was prepared to look at you, you know, as a sex symbol, or a sexy lady, beautiful, but what impressed me was a very hard work that goes into it. And also that you live on several different levels: your private life, your public life, your film life. Just how do you want me to look at you? How should I look at you?” Brigitte Bardot, in turn, found his question rather confusing: “Well, I don’t understand. It’s very difficult for me. You are speaking about different lives I have. The job, the private life, and the public life. For me, it’s nearly the same, because I’m always myself, really myself, even when I’m playing, I don’t play, I am myself. In my private life, I am myself, too. And in public life I am myself, too, so, for me, it’s nearly the same.” She makes clear that she doesn’t separate her private and public personae, therefore the question of many different selves in Brigitte Bardot’s personality seems highly irrelevant. There is only one essential Brigitte Bardot who stays true to herself no matter what. It doesn’t mean, however, that the characters she plays in her movies should be directly identified with the real Brigitte Bardot or be the same all the time. Far from it, what she very likely means is the way she imagines and interprets them.

It is all about her loyalty to the moral, aesthetic, and cultural values she has been exposed to whilst growing up and maturing. She is monolithic in both expressing her personality and in guarding her individuality, for as much as people wanted her to be a goddess, as much as they have perceived her as such, she herself has never believed it for a second, on the contrary, she has always tried to let the world know that she is as human as everybody else, as imperfect and mortal as everyone else. Had it been not the case, she would have lost her originality, authenticity, dignity, and self-confidence of a creator in an artistic sense on and off screen, and without these, the true star power and divinity are unthinkable. Even years later, in 2012, in her interview for Vanity Fair, she repeated the idea of staying true to herself: “I wanted to be myself. Only myself.” She alluded that, by no means, she is perfect, far from it, but she is trying to bring out the best in herself every single day, underlining the qualities she has always strived to cultivate and preserve in herself throughout her life: sincerity, honesty, and genuineness. Her quest for her selfdom and its preservation has been as successful as her film career, I believe.

She left the movie industry in 1973 and never looked back. As an ardent and passionate animal rights activist, she found her bliss in her pursuit and cause. To be herself, it also means to her to be free. Freedom is an essential part of her selfdom. She said she sold all her clothes, all her expensive jewelry, unburdening herself of these ephemeral pleasures of life. Material pursuits are of no interests to her, unless they are beneficial for her cause. She found her stardom burdensome from the very beginning, so a modest life that would seem like a seclusion to many is a happy life for Brigitte Bardot. And inner freedom coupled with her desire to help animals is the formula for her happiness and her bliss, speaking with Joseph Campbell, whose authority on myth is surpassingly excellent even today, or, perhaps, especially today. He said once: “I have suggested for people who are trying to find their way is to follow your bliss. When you follow your bliss, and by bliss I mean the deep sense of being in it, and doing what the push is out of your own existence – it may not be fun, but it’s your bliss and there’s bliss behind pain too. […] There’s something about the integrity of a life. And the world moves in and helps. It really does. And so I think the best thing I can say is follow your bliss. If your bliss is just your fun and your excitement, you’re on the wrong track. I mean, you need instruction. Know where your bliss is. And that involves coming down to a deep place in yourself.” (Campbell, 1990, p. 214) I have included this long quote from Joseph Campbell’s conversations on purpose, as I do see how absolutely wonderfully Brigitte Bardot exemplifies his wisdom. The only thing I could add is that it is a huge achievement in life, perhaps more valuable than her stardom and her divinity, which she will never be able to purge, by the way, as this is an essential part of her persona, part of her divine Self even, and that is not a bad thing at all. This is also something to pride oneself on, particularly in the glorious age of ninety. But I know she still wouldn’t do it, because if she would or if she did, she would betray her good old Self, and with it, her bliss. And this is Brigitte Bardot at her finest. Or should I rather say at her divinest?

Sources

Cousineau, Phil and Stuart L. Brown (eds.). The Hero’s Journey. The World of Joseph Campbell. On His Life and Work. San Francisco: Harper Collins Publishers, 1990.

Servat, Henry-Jean: The Temptress of St. Tropez. In Vanity Fair, the March issue, 2012.

Vadim, Roger. Bardot, Deneuve, Fonda. My Life with the Three Most Beautiful Women in the World. Trans. from French by Melinda Camber Porter. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1986.

Brigitte Bardot as Desire, and Desire as Brigitte Bardot, Or The Game of Imagination.

On some Brigitte Bardot’s English-language-interviews in the film footage of that time, the 50s and the 60s.

By Elena Vassilieva

It’s December 16, 1965, and Brigitte Bardot has just arrived in New York City for the premier of her new film, “Viva Maria!”, directed by Louis Malle. The Air France lounge is filled with photojournalists and reporters to the limit, and, as Hugh Lofting would say in such cases, “there isn’t room there to hide a dog,” shall the actress decide to bring her dog along. The space is noisy and busy, like in a beehive, and the waves of hectic excitement and impatience are crashing the air. At last, the Golden Goddess is here in the flesh, so, she will be breathed and eyed greedily, from head to toe, for her divinity. She will be interrogated unceremoniously for her divineness. “Brigitte, Brigitte, Brigitte,” as if chanting, the reporters are yelling, each trying to be louder than the other, the minute she appears in the room, with no dog in her arms. Light as a feather, blonde as the sun, with a twinkle in her eye and a most delightful smile, she is nervously smoking a cigarette, while trying to get through the crowd to the podium, which is closely guarded by the police.

The Goddess may be devoured with the eyes, but she may not be touched with the hands. As if to take a revenge for this lack of fortune, the reporters are given the long-awaited opportunity to start their merciless ordeal, which is going to scrutinize every move made by the Golden Goddess at any given time of her life. She may appear as the most delicate feminine creature on Earth, yet, from the very first question, quite unexpectedly, she metamorphoses herself into a charmingly disarming Sphynx, playing an excellent game of riddles with the reporters, even when giving the answers to them in her heavily accented English, groomed by her impeccable grammar. The reporters are taken aback at once, as they might have thought themselves quite suitable for the role of the Sphynx in this dialogue, while giving the role of the guesser to Brigitte Bardot, who was supposed to make correct guesses in order to be spared. But, sparing no soul, she reverses the roles from the very beginning, to the reporters’ bewilderment and discontent. Brigitte Bardot, the Golden Goddess, turns out to be the wittiest and trickiest Sphynx one could ever imagine. She makes the reporters laugh at themselves.

“Are you happy?” someone is asking. “Yes, of course, look,” answers she, smiling and pointing with her hand at her luminiferous face. “Do people take you seriously as an actress?” is the next spiky question. “Since Viva Maria! – Yes!” She answers with confidence. “You are thirty, but in some way, you said, you are still fifteen.” “I’m thirty-one,” she corrects the reporter. “What do you mean by that?” asks the reporter. “And you?” says the actress, as if throwing a snowball at the nosey reporter. “What do you mean you are still fifteen?” – Someone else repeats the question. “I don’t know,” she says, “I feel young.” “You said ‘you are never going to see my picture when I’m sixty.’ What are you going to do?” “Before she gets sixty, science will find something,” says her interpreter for her. “Are you soured at marriage altogether?” is the question posed by one female reporter. “No, no, no, not at all. [But] I think it’s better without marriage.” “Why better without marriage?” asks another reporter. “Do you understand?” says the actress. “Why?” the female reporter isn’t satisfied with Bardot’s answer. “Try!” says the actress and smiles. “You have to try.” And all the reporters are bursting into laughter. “What do you want to know?” Brigitte Bardot is saying to the reporter who has a follow-up question. “I told the lady she has to try things without a marriage,” says the actress, with her eyes full of mischief. The interpreter is repeating: “You have to try, you have to try.” One of the reporters is asking: “What do you have what the other girl doesn’t?” Brigitte is conversing with her interpreter in French, and the interpreter is translating her words as “she doesn’t know what she has, and she may be having something less than the other girl.” “What is your opinion about the American people? And particularly people in New York?” asks one very serious reporter. “Well, she doesn’t know the people, yet, and she doesn’t have any preconceived ideas about them.” Translates her interpreter.

Alas, the precious nine minutes of this game-like press-conference are flying away with the speed of light, as it seems. Dissatisfied with Brigitte Bardot’s answers and still wanting more, the reporters are told to leave and to come for another rendezvous with her at the Plaza Hotel tomorrow, at 2 o’clock in the afternoon. The nine-minute-and-forty-six-seconds scene was observed by me not that long ago, in the film footage from the Associated Press archives. I ran into other interviews with Brigitte Bardot, while researching, and they are very similar in style as for how candidly and cleverly the actress responds to the interviewer’s questions. The omnipresence of the Golden Goddess presupposes that she is all-seeing and all-knowing, yet, very often, in her interviews, when asked about herself, she would say: “I don’t know,” disclosing the Sphynxian side of her persona.

For instance, in her 1956 interview for Highlight, on the British Television, the interviewer asks her, in a most respectful tone: “You are 22, Ms Bardot, and you are one of the highest-paid actresses in France. What do you think your success is due to?” At which the perplexed Ms Bardot, with touching innocence in her luminous eyes, replies: “I? I don’t know.” The unhappy with her reply interviewer, in a sort of scolding way, dares to make a suggestion: “You don’t think it’s got something to do with the sexy parts you are playing in your films?” “Yes, maybe, yes,” agrees the actress, more out of politeness than certainty that such a statement could be valid. “Do you really enjoy making this kind of film or do you want to be a serious actress?” “Oh, no, I prefer this kind of film. I will be a serious actress when I will be older,” says she wisely. Then, the interviewer asks: “I heard that dogs are the most important thing in your life.” “Dogs? Yes, I think I prefer them.” “I’ve heard you work very hard, you’ve made 15 films in the last three years. And when you get some time off, what would you like to do the most?” “I have to rest, because I’m very lazy,” she answers. “Anything else you prefer?” The reporter asks, not wanting to give up. “Oh, I like listening to records, go and see shows, go for a walk with my dog,” she replies. “You said you like listening to records. What kind of records do you like the most?” “Oh, classical, and rock-and-roll, and jazz, and everything, I like all the records,” she adds enthusiastically. “And now that you make so much money, I think twelve thousand pounds a film or something like that, what are your ambitions?” “To get more!” Brigitte Bardot replies, with pleasure of a child. “Do you ever want to get to Hollywood?” “No, I’m very well in Europe,” says she. “Oh, thank you very much, indeed, Ms Bardot!”

Another notable interview with the French star was conducted by Ed Sullivan on October 1, 1961, inside the Eiffel Tower, in Paris. Brigitte Bardot had just finished shooting her 26^th picture, A Very Private Affair (1962), directed by Louis Malle. Ed Sullivan, a legend himself, stands out as an interviewer. He is an American in Paris in the best sense, and there is a good rapport and a friendly bond between the two during the interview. “How do you pronounce your name?” He asks at first. “Brigitte Bardot,” she says with the utmost diligence of the most charming schoolgirl. “When were you born?” is his next question. The actress is thinking for a couple of seconds, then says: “Ah, 28^th of September!” At which Ed Sullivan smiles enthusiastically and says that he had ‘always been rooting for her, because they were born on the same day and in the same (!) year.’ Brigitte Bardot raises her eyebrows, protesting: “No, no, I don’t think in the same year!” The audience burst out laughing. After Brigitte Bardot announces that she plans to retire from the film industry in about 10 years, Ed Sullivan also touches on the issue of glamour and being in the limelight all the time. She says that, in fact, “it is a very difficult life, too difficult for me.” His final question is: “When are you coming to America? […] Because Americans, you know, have a very great affection for you.” “I have affection for you, too.” She answers. “Oh, then you have to come over there and express that affection, and we’ll express our affection for you, OK?” “OK.” She says.

There is a paradox in most interviews with Brigitte Bardot. On the one hand, when seen in person, she seems to outdo and to surpass her screen image of the glamorous woman. Clearly, her attractiveness is even more pronounced and more obvious when she is off-screen, due to her personality. Thus, she exceeds all expectations. On the other hand, she doesn’t allow the interviewers to meet their expectations at all. She leaves not much room for any kind of speculation about her persona, making things as clear as possible, baffling her interviewers endlessly. Her sincerity is her main weapon, which should by no means be construed as undressing oneself in public, in the language of modern culture, oversharing. She would rather tell less than more, leaving her interviewers thirsty and hungry for even more answers and clues. She also knows instinctively how to backfire on a reporter because of a tactless question, making the interviewer regret ever asking the question. Obviously, she is a very guarded and private person, and she excels at drawing boundaries between her private and public personae, simultaneously corroborating her status of the cinematographic goddess and wrapping herself with a ribbon of enigma even more this way. But unlike Garbo, for example, she is not a cold enigma, she is always pleasant, polite, funny, and warm. That in turn makes her even more desirable, as nothing excites one’s imagination more than the enigma. This excitement could take all kinds of forms.

It could be erotic, for instance, and this is what happened to Brigitte Bardot before anything else, in those years particularly, because of the ubiquity of her image that relied heavily on her natural allure and a total lack of any pretentiousness and artificialness. By 1965, the French actress was not simply well-known all over the world, she was desired and dreamed of. She became the epitome of desire itself. She impersonated the happiness that is hidden in desire, which could be understood as an unattainable lure that holds the key to enormous personal satisfaction and balance. The wish to make this (al)luring object one’s own is a very strong motive power and it contributes to the dynamic of this happiness a great deal. The British philosopher and idealist, F. H. Bradley, said that “[t]he secret of happiness is to admire without desiring.” And that is quite true, as what he means here is that when one has a quiet, intellectual rather than emotional, admiration for the object, one retains his emotional coolness, self-possession, and distance from the object. There are no dramatic turns if one is able to choose to admire things this way. One doesn’t seek either physical intimacy or spiritual closeness of/with the love object, one is satisfied with the order of things the way they are. This sort of admiration without desire is closer to a purely aesthetical contemplation that somehow manages to restrict the spectator’s emotions. However, Bradley quickly adds, sardonically concluding: “[A]nd that is not happiness.”

Does it mean, then, that happiness goes hand in hand with desire, which can directly be connected to a temporary or permanent unattainability of the alluring love object, depending on the circumstances? In the case of Brigitte Bardot, it is the latter rather than the former, for most, anyway, but she, as a personified desire, lures and even holds captive her admirers, in spite of the physical distance between them. And the way this lure functions might be described as a paradox, where happiness finds one within unhappiness. The desire here plays a crucial role of reaching a happy state of being, even if the end result is not what one wishes for. The happiness is in the process of seeking happiness. There is something quite optimistic in this, obviously doomed, pursuit. It must be noted that I’m talking about more or less stable individuals here. The overly obsessed and possessed ones would behave differently, this sort of happiness would not affect them in the same way it does most people.

Taking into account what I said above, men had lost their sleep the minute Brigitte Bardot appeared on the cultural scene, and women had tried hard, sometimes too hard, to look the way she did, so she became the most-emulated woman on Earth. Yet, surprisingly, it hasn’t made her persona trivial or redundant, or deserted in the world full of her imitations. It must be added that, unlike many other movie stars, she hasn’t been created by Hollywood or by the masses of her admirers; as a cultural phenomenon, she is the product of nature, in a sense of “and God created [the] woman,” speaking with her first husband and director, Roger Vadim. He said that he did only let her blossom, he never made her a star. I wonder whether it is because she herself has never attempted to look or to act as anyone else but herself? Once, in an interview, she was asked whether she had ever tried to be like Marilyn Monroe, and she, utterly surprised by the question, replied that although she admired the American actress a good deal, it had never occurred to her to imitate her, as she believed Monroe was this great that it was virtually impossible to emulate her and, thus, it would be a useless exercise and a terrible waste of time.

My philosopher friend in Cologne, Germany, liked to remind me in the past that love is all about imagination. We had not discussed the notion of desire at the time, but today, I would declare that any desire is all about imagination. And it could be placed above the erotic, which in this case becomes a sort of a metaphysical desire. This would explain why Brigitte Bardot as a screen goddess would provide solace and hope to so many. Perhaps one could meet someone like her in real life, or maybe one could be given the Brigitte-Bardot-like power that would make her as enticing as the actress is. That’s the logic of all the Brigitte Bardot’s admirers. And it’s the game of possibilities and promises that makes desire look like Brigitte Bardot and makes Brigitte Bardot look like desire.

Sources

The film footage from the press-conference with Brigitte Bardot, on December 16, 1965, in New York City, from the Associated Press Archives: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ILd0QKZOWU]. Last retrieved on September 28, 2023.

The fragment of the Brigitte Bardot UK TV interview, 1956: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9IE8G94kUdg&list=LL&index=4]. Last retrieved on September 28, 2023.

Brigitte Bardot, the Ed Sullivan Show, the Eiffel Tower, Paris, October 1, 1961: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzk5cru0ej4&list=LL&index=5]. Last retrieved on September 28, 2023.

Vadim, Roger (1986). Bardot, Deneuve, Fonda. Tr. from French by Melinda Camber Porter. New York: Simon & Schuster.

Written in the Sky Control Room, on Cape Cod, in the wee hours of the morning, on September 28, 2023.

THE CULTURAL ICON

The Everlasting Enigma of Brigitte Bardot’s Star Power

Part one.

By Elena Vassilieva

Brigitte Bardot on the Shalako set in Almeria, 1968. Photo by © Jacques Héripret, © Groupe Eyrolles, 2013.

It probably wouldn’t be an exaggeration to state that the star power of Brigitte Bardot’s iconic persona had been evident already after her first appearance on the screen in Jean Boyer’s comedy Le Trou normand (Crazy for Love) in 1952. In fact, it was love at first sight with the ballet-trained, happiness inducing and affection inspiring French actress. Unwittingly, ever since, she has launched an enormous follow of admirers, among which have not only been men, but also women and children (most notably teenagers) who all literally seemed to have lost their sleep in pursuit of finding the key to the enigma of the French cultural icon. The enigma that distinguishes her so much from other cinema personalities to this day.

At the time when Brigitte Bardot made her movie debut, she had already been an accomplished ballet dancer who grew to be one of the brightest talents (she graduated forth in her class) at the Conservatoire de Paris. She later took ballet lessons from the Russian ballet dancer and choreographer Boris Kniazeff. She said that her ballet studies made her a stronger and very disciplined person and her work ethic acquired at the Conservatoire has always been to her advantage. The photographer and her dear friend, the late Jacques Héripret, whom she met on the set of Shalako in Almeria, in 1968, wrote in the afterword of BB en liberté. Photos hors plateau (2013) that “[o]n set she was a great professional. She knew her lines by heart and, as we say in the film industry, she ‘was on the razor’s edge’. […] She was attentive to details given by the director Edward Dmytryk, focused, always in a good mood, remarkably nice to the technicians, friendly, courteous with her partners – Sean Connery, Stefen Boyd, Peter Van Eyck – never once was she difficult or temperamental during all those months. I wanted, for once and for all, to put an end to the rumor claiming she was unmanageable on a set.” (Héripret 2013, p. 153)

But not only wanted he the unfair rumour to be disqualified and to vanish, Jacques Héripret, like many others before him, also strived to comprehend what exactly makes Brigitte Bardot so utterly special and otherworldly. I doubt he had ever said that to her, not directly, anyway, unlike many other professional men, such as cinematographers and journalists, but none the less he received her permission to photograph her whenever he pleased on the Shalako set, and that was certainly proof of his curiousity and high regard for her. She, therefore, didn’t pose at all, all the pictures of her are spontaneous, “unbeknownst to me,” she said, and document the precious moments of that period of her life. When a trustful and friendly relationship between the photographer and the actress had been established, soon after, Brigitte Bardot seemed to have taken a fancy to photograph by herself, as there are quite a few shots of hers with a camera in her hands. By then Jacques Héripret must have realised that to the camera, she was a true and rare photogenic perfection from any given angle or vantage point, but had he been able to grasp the enigmatic side of her persona then? He photographed and photographed her endlessly during those four months, there had been total one thousand and five hundred photos of Brigitte Bardot: talking to her colleagues, sitting and waiting in her chair, playing a card game, dancing and singing, resting on the ground, riding a horse, or playing with her dog Hippy. She looks exquisite on each one of them, and, of course, for that she praised his talent. But there are also the pictures that are less traditional, such as a close-up of her hair or her hands or part of her face where one can see the wrinkles of the mortal when she is smiling. The naturalness and sheer liveliness of such images indicate that she, like anyone else, is a human being who may have wrinkles on her face, yet, despite it, she is not like any other human being. She is different, as Héripret’s pictures remind us. And that is exactly the paradox of the situation, the photographer must have thought; one can have all the wrinkles of the mortal, yet still be majestically surrounded by the impenetrable air of the goddess. But how is it possible?

The question still remains not fully answered, in spite of Héripret’s conclusion that it is her wholesomeness and personal traits that made her glorious and celebrated such that General De Gaulle would firmly believe “that Brigitte Bardot brought in more foreign currency to France than Renault.” (Héripret, ibid., p. 154) And who would dare to disagree with that? Her cultural significance is so great that one should never underestimate the influence of her personality that has contributed immensely to her iconic status. “She is a free woman. Her loyalty is legendary. She is straight as an arrow. Her word is a contract,” wrote he. (Ibid.) And this is what Héripret’s interpretation of Brigitte Bardot as an icon differentiates from the mainstream view. From the start, he refused to see her exclusively through the erotic lens and as a sex symbol. Clearly, upon meeting her in person, he understood quickly that the eroticism, as alluring as it seemed, was not enough to comprehend her persona fully and fairly. Moreover, it was simply too limiting because of the lamentable untenability of the erotic construction towards her whole personality. Instead, he chose to see her as “an anti-star, an unpretentious woman, a woman with her doubts, her joys.” (Ibid.) And by doing so, he did a magnificent job. (To be continued)

Written in the breezy hours of the night, on 27 September 2022, on the shore of Little Harbor, on Cape Cod.

THE CULTURAL ICON

La chevelure de Bérénice

Or the eternally inspiring power of Brigitte Bardot.

By Elena Vassilieva

“Approchez, que je vous embrasse.” – C’est ici que l’espérance nourrit l’amour. Image (the photo of Brigitte Bardot used in the readymade is by © Douglas Kirkland; the Cheetah fur is fake!) and words by Elena Vassilieva.

Recently, when I had been on the hunt for documentaries on Brigitte Bardot at the local library, the search engine delivered me a curious title that caught my eye at once. The book was called In an Elevator with Brigitte Bardot (2007) and was written by a Cape Codder, Michael Lee. Once, as a teenager, by the greatest stroke of luck, he rode with the French actress in an elevator at the Plaza Hotel in NYC. He doesn’t say when exactly, but he mentions that Brigitte Bardot was wearing a leopard coat then. So maybe it was in the 60s when leopard print coats became very popular? The memory of that brief (25 floors!) encounter hadn’t been revealed by him to the public for 40 years until one day, at the neighbourhood cocktail party in his house, while joining a company of the New Year’s resolutionists, he hesitatingly declared: “Well, ah, I’m going to give up Brigitte Bardot”. Naturally, his neighbours had a puzzled look on their faces, the minute he said that, as if he were a lunatic: “Give up on Brigitte Bardot?” One hardly has to be a madman or a stalker who finally came to his senses to say something like this, as the force of her aesthetic powers has been superior and ubiquitous throughout the years. Not only male minds and hearts she has held captive, but also those of women, children, and the elderly.

Many cinema appreciators would probably recall the film “Dear Brigitte” (1965) with James Stewart, Brigitte Bardot playing a cameo role there, and a child actor Billy Mumy, who was left in awe of the actress saying that he will never forget the lucky occasion of meeting her and seeing first-hand how not only otherworldly beautiful she was, but also very kind and warm. I have never met Brigitte Bardot in person, but I remember how my Grandmother took me to a department store on my 6^th birthday, and there I saw one doll that took my fancy at once. Made in Germany and named Brigitte, she looked just like Brigitte Bardot about whom I had little knowledge at the time, but my Grandmother was overjoyed to buy this doll for me. I still have Brigitte, and she gladdens my heart every time I catch a glimpse of her. Another grandmother, a relative of my friends, was over the moon when her granddaughter of the kindergarten age resembled the French star with her long blond hair and her irresistible loveliness so much that she could have easily been Brigitte Bardot’s twin. “This is our little Brigitte Bardot,” the girl’s grandmother playfully introduced her to others. Alas, to her huge disappointment, later, when the granddaughter grew up, Brigitte Bardot seemed to have left her for good, the girl’s appearance was taken over by her own nature instead. But even if she had retained Brigitte Bardot’s striking looks, she would have lacked the singularity and the very essence of Bardot’s personality. If her animals could talk human languages, they would reveal to us too that their dueña has charmed every single one of them in the Animal Kingdom. Especially now, since she has been for decades such a fearless and persistent advocate of the animals’ rights. Hugh Lofting’s Dr Dolittle-series is a must-read in my household, and every time I read it to one of my very young relatives, Brigitte Bardot comes to mind, surrounded by her family of animals.

In his essay, Michael Lee reminds us that his fondness for the French actress was by no means such an out of the ordinary thing, because utter obsession with her was more than just a personal circumstance of one particular man, it was a cultural trend, if not craze, that had universal quality to it, sort of “a generational secret”: every American [and not American!] man who was born between 1943 and 1955, he writes, “has at one time or another been locked into a mental affaire d’amour with Brigitte Bardot”. And while he doesn’t disclose many details of the conversation with his guests that day, he shares, self-deprecatingly, his feelings with the reader how Brigitte Bardot, the Golden Goddess, in his words, had been burning his heart and occupying his thoughts for decades. Although based on strong and intense emotions, infatuation is a fleeting thing that lasts only a short period of time, particularly if one thinks of male preoccupation and adoration of woman’s flesh. What precisely was it, then? His wife thinks his “teenage crush with Brigitte Bardot is cute”, but he disagrees with her firmly: “Puppies are cute, not my relationship with Ms. Bardot”. Of course, it’s very audacious to call one’s obsession a relationship without quotation marks, if there is only one person in this game, as any relationship, by definition, presupposes the other, who exists not only on an imaginary level, but who also communicates with that other person in real life. However, it’s forgivable, since he implies it himself that it’s only his flights of fancy which aren’t transgressive or harmful, on the contrary, he finds them very satisfying, otherwise his feelings wouldn’t have lasted for 40 (!) years. As for his wife’s choice of words, the adjective ‘cute’ is a very tricky one, in the American social and cultural context at least, it may often contain pejorative undertones of judgementalism or even hypocrisy, according to my personal observations.

Obviously, it must have been much more than just an obsessive desire for Brigitte Bardot’s physique. It wouldn’t be completely wrong to assert that although he idolises and worships her persona, to his credit, he manages not to objectify her at all. His unceasing admiration for her had given him much more than only aesthetic pleasure and the phantasmagoria of the erotic dreamscape. And it’s hard to explain, why an ordinary person, who might have been in the same physical space with him, had been unable to do the same. Brigitte Bardot had been influencing him, a perfect stranger, so powerfully from a distance, from her unreachable to others space that was perceived by her admirers as sacred, untouchable, and hopeful, which was absolutely essential to them in order to feed their imagination and love, whatever love is, speaking with Prince Charles. That space was observed by them through the cultural lens of her movies, posters, and photographs. To most, that was the only way to get a glimpse of this alluring space of hers. The first row at the St George college’s movie theatre seemed to bring him closer to his heroine’s space, yet the physical obstacle of the movie screen made Brigitte Bardot an unattainable love aim, but simultaneously a highly desirable ideal. And even when, finally, he decided to abandon his idee fixe, surprisingly, he gave the impression of being not quite ready to part with it. Moreover, his own resolution saddened him a great deal, as if he were about to lose something very important, which had become a significant and necessary part of his existence. Even if the short accidental meeting in the elevator didn’t entirely change his life, and despite its randomness, it most likely made him feel special and chosen, the very sensation might have kept him afloat, above the monotonous greyness and tediousness of the everyday. It might have even given him indeed the strength to overcome difficulties in life. And, best of all, it inspired him to write the collection of essays.

La beauté qui le captive. Brigitte Bardot in Cannes, 1956. The photo by © Edward Quinn from his book “Stars, Stars, Stars off the Screen” (1997).

Brigitte Bardot had interested him prior to that momentous ‘togetherness’ in the elevator, since he was eagerly following all her artistic endeavours. Although her image depended on a movie role she was playing, there isn’t a single film where she would come across as false, vulgar or uninspiring, even when she had to play anti-heroines, such as Dominique Marceau in La Vérité (1960) by Henri-Georges Clouzot and Jeanne in Don Juan ou Si Don Juan était une femme… (1973) by Roger Vadim. And she played them superbly, without sacrificing her personal space. But the fact that he didn’t expect, let alone plan, to see her in person at the moment when the elevator door opened must have had a tremendously large effect on his teenage self. The sudden appearance of his idol out of nowhere neared a dreamlike experience, which transferred him into a state of spellbinding and disorienting trance to the point that he lost his ability to speak or to think for the entire ride. Brigitte Bardot blinded him with her smile and deafened him with her warm and kind ‘Hello’, and those were the only things she explicitly and deliberately did. He, on the other hand, was unable to return civility and politeness in the elevator until they were brought down to the lobby, and when the actress was about to step out of the elevator and disappear, in the last moment, he dared to transgress that sacred space of hers by timidly touching the sleeve of her coat, but found a way to rehabilitate himself discursively: “Ms. Bardot. Thanks. Thanks for everything. Everything. Thanks for everything.” Brigitte Bardot didn’t say a thing to this, she just smiled at him and left. He didn’t follow her, but returned to the confinement of the elevator space instead and, thinking she might have given him wings, was transposed straight back to heaven, figuratively speaking, of course. I wouldn’t be surprised if the brevity of this memorable elevator ride equaled timelessness to Mr Lee. Isn’t it truly amazing what two polite, but very sincere smiles and one ‘Hello’, uttered by the Golden Goddess, can do to the mere mortal?

Brigitte Bardot’s inspirational powers will always be forceful: men will sigh and groan and fantasise the wildest things known and unknown on Earth, aside to writing songs about her and dreaming about encountering someone who would have at least her hair; women will always envy her and her hair, some lovingly, some rancorously, but everyone would agree that as a cultural icon she is par excellence, unmatchable and unreachable. She will always be longed equally as much by men as by women. Men will make their women have her hairdo, women will be desperate for the Brigitte Bardot look. But there will always be the one and only Brigitte Bardot, no matter how hard women continue their efforts to emulate her. She herself has never tried to imitate anyone, and she has never envied anyone, speaking only well of the men and women with whom she worked in the past. She will always lure and seduce people with her most exquisite beauty that has the power to melt the stars, along with the brilliance of her authentic persona, and with the straightforwardness of her strong and bright personality.

Brigitte Bardot’s hair, just like la chevelure de Bérénice, has become the entity in its own right, destined to be as legendary as her whole artistic persona. That topic deserves another round of musings, which I shall pursue in the future. Besides having Brigitte the doll, given to me by my dearest Grandmother, I have the Brigitte Bardot boots, almost identical to the ones she wore when she was performing the Harley-Davidson song, and I must say they are awfully unsuitable for a motorcycle ride. I also own a similar fake cheetah jacket from the Moon landing epoch when she wore her cheetah print coat, but neither the boots nor the coat will ever make me look like she does, not in the slightest degree, and that isn’t tragic at all. But in case I must ever make a New Year’s resolution using Mr Lee’s exact words, it would sound only like this: Well, I’m not going to give up Brigitte Bardot! Why should I, if she inspires me so much for the good of mankind? And I’m endlessly grateful to her for this.

(Written on Cape Cod, in the Sky Control Room on the windy night/morning of Tuesday, September 28, 2021.)