This is one of Welles' best films as actor only. I look forward to seeing the director's cut, with missing scenes restored. However, BBC Films dismisses Malpertuis as incomprehensible gibberish.
Read all about it at http://www.bbc.co.uk/films/2002/07/05/malpertuis_1971_review.shtml
Bizarre, lurid and baffling, "Malpertuis" virtually vanished after its premiere at the 1972 Cannes Film Festival, where it was shown in a shortened English language version that was subsequently hacked down even further by insensitive distributors. Now the Belgian Royal Film Archive has worked with director Harry Kümel to produce a definitive, two-hour director's cut of this little-known curio. Sadly, this version is scarcely more coherent than the ones that preceded it.
Based on the novel by Belgian author Jean Ray, the film follows Jan (Carrière), a handsome young seaman, as he returns home to his family mansion of Malpertuis. There his dying Uncle Cassavius (Welles) is about to divide his estate between his heirs. But there's a catch: they will only inherit if they promise never to leave the house again.
Trapped in the mansion's endless labyrinth of corridors, staircases, and secret chambers, Jan stumbles upon a fantastical mystery involving Greek mythology, a mad taxidermist ("life isn't worth living without something to stuff!"), and a series of grisly murders. Then again, it could just be a dream which might explain why three of his relatives are all played by English rose Susan Hampshire.
"Nobody must know what is going on at Malpertuis!", someone thunders at one point, though he shouldn't have worried. It may be beautifully shot by Gerry Fisher and boast an excellent multinational cast, but Kümel's picture is quite unfathomable and never justifies the effort employed to try and figure it out. For Welles completists only.
I too thought MALPERTUIS was fascinating, although it is a very wierd and baffling story. The novel was written in France during World War II, and the idea of capturing the essence of the old Greek gods to produce some kind of superior creature somehow seems like a metaphor for Hitler's master race. The blond sailor/hero does have an Aryan look to him, like the sailor in Welles' THE IMMORTAL STORY. Welles' Cassavius, with his comb over and red-dominated bedroom, likewise comes across like an old, fat, bearded Hitler. Interesting that Welles was 56 when he played the dying warlock; the same age as Hitler when he died.
The BBC reviewer probably would have described Welles' THE TRIAL - which Malpertuis reminds me of somewhat - as incomprehensible gibberish too.
Description of the novel by Goodreads:
"A manuscript stolen from a monastery, the ancient stone house of a sea-trading dynasty, which may be haunted. These are familiar ingredients for a Gothic novel, but something far more strange and disconcerting is taking place within the walls of Malpertuis as the relatives gather for the impending death of Uncle Cassave. The techniques of H. P. Lovecraft, when transplanted into the suffocating Catholic context of a Belgium scarred by the Inquisition, produce in Jean Ray's masterpiece a story of monumental intensity from which events of startling ferocity break the surface - without ever lessening the suspense of the tale's approaching apocalyptic denouement."
I came across this item posted at Mobius Home Video Forum (Dave Cheung, February 18/05):
"MALPERTUIS is listed as a future release from the Belgian film archive Koninklijk Belgisch Filmarchief (7/15/2005 tentative) as part of their Flemish film classics series:
Barrel Entertainment (www.barrel-entertainment.com) is releasing MALPERTUIS: DIRECTOR'S CUT (119 minutes) on July 24. [The film was retitled THE LEGEND OF DOOM HOUSE for the U.S. market.] Among the special features on this deluxe two-disc DVD package is ORSON WELLES UNCUT, a 25-minute featurette containing rare outtakes footage of Welles during the filming of MALPERTUIS in Belgium in 1971. Welles plays Quentin Cassavius, a wealthy dying man who leaves a fortune to his heirs, but only if they never leave the isolated mansion of Malpertuis. Welles gets to take a load off in this film, as he is in bed in every one of his scenes. Although only 56 when MALPERTUIS was made, Welles looks horribly aged, and it's not just because of the makeup job (ubiquitous grey putty nose included).
Another extra is REFLECTIONS OF DARKNESS: DEL VALLE ON KÜMEL, a new 74-minute career retrospective interview with genius director Harry Kumel (the auteur of DAUGHTERS OF DARKNESS) by noted film journalist David Del Valle.
The British Film Institute's David Thompson calls MALPERTUIS "a dream film unlike any other, (which) can now be seen in its full glory."
The late great Jean-Pierre Cassel co-starred in MALPERTUIS.
Cassel also turns up as a French Resistance fighter in IS PARIS BURNING?, but I don't believe he shares any scenes with Orson Welles (cast as a Swedish diplomat).
Cassel died of cancer on April 19 at the age of 74. His film career started in the early 1950s and he remained a busy actor until the end. Several of his more recent films have yet to be released, including ASTERIX AT THE OLYMPIC GAMES.
I've just watched the "Orson Welles Uncut" documentary off the new "Malpertuis" disk, and I am sad to report that it is the usual unenlightening anti-Welles rant, though of some interest for the outakes of Welles at work on the film. Unintentional humor is supplied by the fact that the Welles we see in the outtakes bears no resemblance whatever to the monster we hear described by the people being interviewed for the doc.
Director Harry Kumel, remembered for exactly one work, the visually striking vampire movie "Daughters of Darkness", reports that Welles was drunk throughout the four day shoot, and couldn't remember his lines. The Welles we see in the outtakes is word perfect and apparently sober.
Kumel states that Welles antagonized the entire cast, who hated him, and were so relieved when he finished his role and left the project that they had a party! Then we cut to actress Susan Hampshire, who says that she loved working with Welles!!??
Next we get a condescending, pretentious monologue from the egregious Mathieu Carriere, hired in 1971 for his pretty boy looks, and now a Gaulloises-shriveled wreck, comparing Welles to some sort of strange animal that you can't direct, but only follow with the camera lens. He states that Welles was "already dying even then" (in 1971! Someone should have told Oja!), and that Kumel, in letting Welles direct himself, was doing Welles a favor ("that was Harry's gift to Welles")!!??
Kumel also states that he believes Welles' biggest problem was that he had let the movies move past him, that Welles was not conversant with the great advances in film technique made since, well, since Citizen Kane, I suppose. Kumel's evidence for this - Welles preferred to post synch his dialogue rather then record direct sound! This at the time that Welles was shooting the technically radical TOSOTW, and had F for Fake ahead of him!
The best story of all is that, having apparently been such an obstructive presence throughout the shoot (Welles liked to have long lunches! And drink champagne! Quelle horreur!), Welles offered Kumel a free day of shooting. He then proceeded to get through 18 set-ups, before departing at noon. Kumel, who comes across as a self-important, humorless prig, quite fails to see the very obvious Wellesian irony in this.
Throughout all the blather, we see footage of Welles behaving completely professionally, offering his director multiple interpretations of a scene, or of a line of dialogue; getting irritated when his performance is not sufficiently inspired; solicitously asking his director if this or that was "O.K", or if he needs another take. Above all, unlike Kumel, he appears to be having fun. Couldn't Kumel have come up with a least one take of Welles berating a fellow actor, or blowing his lines, or nipping from a flask, or throwing some sort of a tantrum? But no, he doesn't, not one.
After watching this documentary, I am reminded of Welles's explanation of his later acting career: "they hire me when they have a bad movie and want to give it a little class". You'd think that Kumel would have treasured those lunches, and been thrilled to have this giant on his set. Instead Welles was treated like a drunken has been who should have been grateful for the work.
It is apparent that this documentary was only cobbled together to help sell the Malpertuis disk to more than the handful of genre fans interested in it, just as Welles was only hired originally for his box office clout. Where is Beatrice when we need her?
I will be reporting on the rest of Malpertuis in the near future.
Last edited by mido505 on Tue Jul 31, 2007 9:23 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Should you come to San Francisco, Todd Baesen will no doubt stand you a "Carl Kickery Gimlet" at the Ha-Ra Club (just declared "The Best Bar for Noir Buffs" by the Bay Guardian)!
I saw the extended Director's Cut of Harry Kumel's MALPERTUIS a few nights ago (it's in Flemish with English subtitles). With its labyrinthine setting (a seemingly inescapable old dark house somewhere in Belgium), a bedridden Welles surrounded by an odd assortment of obsequious peasants and bowler-hatted figures trapped in tight quarters, MALPERTUIS reminded me of THE TRIAL (both the Orson Welles version and the 1993 remake). MALPERTUIS is a masterpiece, with a compelling narrative, great acting (especially by then stunning Susan Hampshire in four different roles), deft editing, dazzling cinematography by Gerry Fisher (who is somehow able to obtain clear images from dark interiors) and a wonderfully mournful score by Georges Delerue. So it is rather strange that Kumel really tears into Welles in the DVD extra ORSON WELLES UNCUT. Perhaps he thinks Welles jinxed his picture, an expensive flop from which the Belgian director's career never recovered. After 1971, Kumel wasn't given another opportunity to rise to the heights of DAUGHTERS OF DARKNESS and MALPERTUIS. And that's a great pity, because he was an amazingly inventive director who really knew how to work with actors. I ask innocently: is it not possible that by 1971, something had happened to Orson Welles, that his sensibility might have been darkened by envy of much younger "hippie-esque" directors who were being given bigger budgets than he could ever hope for at this stage of his career, and that he might have been depressed by advancing age, poor health and heavy drinking bordering on alcoholism? Perhaps all this tainted his mood and made him more imperious and difficult to work with. I acknowledge that this viewpoint conflicts with other accounts of Welles in his later years, in which he is described as a happy bon vivant, as creative as ever (although in a minimalist way), and philosophically accepting of his outsider status in Hollywood.
I must confess that I lack Harvey Chartrand’s enthusiasm for MALPERTUIS, which I have been dying to see for a long time; this greatly saddens me, as I love director Harry Kumel’s DAUGHTERS OF DARKNESS, and believe that MALPERTUIS could have been, in more assured hands, a brilliant achievement. Instead, I find it an interesting failure, full of very real virtues, but even more terrible faults, worth seeing, for sure, for its extraordinary set design and cinematography; for its undeniably compelling narrative; and for, as Harvey correctly notes, Susan Hampshire’s mesmerizingly otherworldly performance(s). Unfortunately, Mathieu Carriere is amateurish, wooden and unconvincing in the lead; his attempt to appear enigmatic comes across as merely confused. There are also some poor supporting performances, although, thankfully, Welles is not one of them. Although I will have to watch the English version to catch the full force of his portrayal, even dubbed in Flemish Welles is appropriately magnetic and domineering in his “Mr. Clay” mold.
Where MALPERTUIS really falls apart for me is in Kumel’s inability to bring any kind of specific point of view to the story; he seems content to illustrate, rather than illuminate, his source, in this case a novel by Belgian fantasy writer Jean Ray. Harvey’s mention of THE TRIAL is apropos here, because Welles, in his adaptation, does what Kumel fails to do. Like any great artist, Welles has a very expansive, thematically complex, well thought out vision of the world, a vision that he conjures up, and explores facets of, in his various films. Every aspect of a Welles film, the script, the setting, the photography, the performances, the editing, etc., is completely subordinate to that vision, which is why, even when altered by others, they are so vivid and remarkably coherent. Welles’ sources, be they Shakespeare, or Kafka, or some pulp novelist, are never ends in themselves, but instead serve as springboards to launch the vision, and this accounts for the often extensive and highly criticized changes Welles makes to his material. Kumel, on the other hand, brings nothing; he is very obviously flailing around, and MALPERTUIS suffers for it. The film’s rhythm is off; Kumel never succeeds in creating a world, with its own peculiar internal logic; the odd shifts in tone and clunky editing patterns are extremely off-putting, and a good half hour could be chopped out of the running time without any great loss, especially during the awful tavern scene. MALPERTUIS does not seduce, there is no poetry in it, and without that seduction and sense of longing for another, earlier, more colorful, more interesting, more passionate, perhaps more dangerous, world than the one we inhabit, MALPERTUIS’ story has no raison d'etre. The climax, which should be a shattering emotional experience, becomes, instead, in Kumel's uncomprehending imagining, a trivial, incoherent mess.
I would love to have seen what Welles could have done with Ray’s novel. I have no idea if Welles read it, or any of Ray’s work, but given his well-known interest in Greek myth, and his reported enthusiasm for the project (at least in the beginning), this would not surprise me. Perhaps Kumel’s unfathomable hostility towards Welles lay in his subconscious realization that Welles, and not he, was really the man for the job.
Very nice observations on the "Orson Welles Uncut" documentary on the MALPERTUIS DVD. I think the points you make actually indicate that the director of the documentary, Francoise Levie, was apparently trying to undercut Kumel's negative statements about Welles, since the statements from Gerry Fisher and Susan Hampshire clearly are at odds with Kumel's own negative assessements about Welles, and his belief that everyone on the set detested him.
Kumel himself seems to be strangely torn about Welles, calling him a wonderful person off the set, but saying he "detested" him on the set.
One possible theory as to why Kumel found Welles so difficult to work with, can perhaps be traced to Kumel's own inexperience with veteran actors like Welles, who were often considered "difficult." Laughton and Brando were the same way, so a young director might not have had the kind of experience needed with dealing with that kind of actor. It certainly appears that Kumel allowed Welles to essentially direct the proceedings during the three and a half days he was on the set. This, of course, was often how Welles worked. He would make suggestions, question angles, and often push directors to see how much leeway they would be willing to give him. Since this was only Kumel's third film, and by his own admission he preferred using experienced actors, and not having to direct them, it appears he gave Welles too much rope, and seems to have lost control of the situation.
Naturally, this would be upsetting to any talented director who had strong ideas about what he wanted, which Kumel obviously had. A real hack director, on the other hand would probably welcome Welles taking over the set and merely claim the results were his own. So this could be one of the reasons that made Kumel quite resentful of Welles, since Welles obviously knew what he was talking about. At one point Welles is even heard questioning why Kumel would use a 75 mm (lens) for a shot.
Since Kumel was at the time a young director, he was perhaps unprepared to clamp down and demand Welles do it his own way, as any hardened veteran director would demand of him. Of course,
Welles bark was much worse than his bite. Gerry Fisher's story is a perfect example: While adjusting a light above the bed he stepped on Welles leg. Welles said to Fisher: "You did that on purpose!" Fisher replied: "Yes, Orson, I did," and Welles burst into laughter, knowing he's been caught, and quite obviously enjoying himself.
In any case I think Francoise Levie has put together a marvelous documentary, which allows Kumel to state his own strong negative views of Welles, which from his own point of view, are obviously quite legitimate. But by including the evidence of the outakes to counter Kumel's own comments, (which are clearly at odds with what Kumel is saying), we can make up our own minds. Since Welles is heard offering suggestions and being very cordial, if he was as drunk as Kumel claims he was, he clearly doesn't show it. Welles may have even felt that he might have gone a bit too far, though, since he gave Kumel a free fourth day, and was being paid $10,000. a day for his work!
Thank you for your thoughtful and insightful reply to my post. I thoroughly agree with you that Francoise Levie is doing his best to give Welles a fair shake in the documentary; in fact, the vast discrepancy between Kumel's vitriol and what we actually see on screen is so absurd that the entire documentary becomes a perhaps intentional exercise in surreal hilarity, like something out of a Monty Python sketch.
Regarding Kumel's "strangely torn" reaction to his experience with Welles (which comes across even more clearly during the REFLECTIONS OF DARKNESS interview with Kumel on Disc 2 of the MALPERTUIS set), I think you are right on the money to trace it to Kumel's inexperience. Certainly, Kumel does not come across as a director familiar with, or understanding of, actors and their particular creative and behavioural idiosyncrasies. Kumel, like Hitchcock and Von Sternberg (Kumel's mentor, a fact strangely left unmentioned in the DARKNESS interview), wants the actors to shut up and get on with it. Welles the director, on the other hand, from all the evidence I have seen, not only encourages active input from his actors, but seems actually to like them. Unlike Kumel, who badmouths John Karlen and Matthiew Carriere in REFLECTIONS OF DARKNESS, Welles has never, in any interview I have come across, spoken ill of an actor, especially one that appeared in his movies. Conversely, actors almost always speak very highly of Welles, even if they did, on occasion, find him exasperating. What looked to Kumel like Welles taking over the direction, looks to me like Welles behaving like the kind of actor that he, as a director, would appreciate - making suggestions, offering choices, soliciting input.
A good example of the difference between Welles and Kumel as directors occurs in the Lesley Megahey/BBC interview. During a discussion of THE STRANGER, Welles mentions that Edward G. Robinson sat in a sulk for the first week of filming. When Welles finally asked him what was wrong, Robinson replied that Welles was shooting him on his bad side. Welles, who had been shooting that way to accommodate Loretta Young, is incredulous ("Imagine, Eddy Robinson having a bad side!"), but then confers with the actress, who agrees to give the shots to Robinson. Welles relates this story, not to denigrate Robinson (not his choice for the role; he wanted Agnes Moorehead), whom he praises for his performance, but to show what a director must deal with on a daily basis. Contrast this attitude with Kumel's apoplexy when Welles asks for a close up.
I would like to finish by mentioning one thing that often gets missed when discussing Welles as an actor - his own admitted insecurity as a performer. He has stated on numerous occasions that he has difficulty approaching a role, and therefore looks for and needs direction. Jean Moreau tells the wonderful, and oddly touching, anecdote of Welles hiding his makeup box, and claiming to have lost it, to avoid for as long as possible confronting Falstaff; there were difficulties at the beginning of THE THIRD MAN, because Welles panicked when he realized that he had no makeup to hide behind; and John Huston famously gave Welles a flask of brandy to get him through Father Mapple's sermon in Moby Dick (no problem with booze on a Huston set! Welles went on to do the scene in one take; so much for Kumel's "terrible drunkard" who could not remember his lines). An old time pro like Carol Reed, or Huston, would recognize this insecurity and help Welles get past it; but a young novice like Kumel, probably not an empathetic man at the best of times, could not conceive that Welles, this giant of radio, theater, and cinema, would need a bit of babying. So much for the worse....
Last edited by mido505 on Fri Sep 07, 2007 9:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Kumel's performance on the commentary, and both docs is a very clever blend of false modesty (he claims to "detest" his own best movie, DOD) and attacks on others. I lost count how many other film professionals he bad mouthed. On the commentary, during the the scene in the VENUS CLUB, he starts by saying he didn't do it as well as an old Hollywood musical then starts attacking Lars Von Trier's modernist musicals in a very jealous tone. He also dismisses the entire French nouvelle vague "disastrous", especially Truffaut, who he says couldn't write, and then numerous other directors as he goes on and on in the 75 Del Valle doc. Attacking others is, I guess, a passive aggresive form of self-praise, but I think he's highly resentful about the way his feature film career went after the failure of MALPERTUIS and seeks to blame EVERYONE except himself, expecially Welles. I think he enjoyed Welles' company and it seems he allowed him to direct himself, call his own cuts and do what he wanted and Carriere confirms that. But telling Crazy/Bad Welles stories after he's dead is a way to attract attention and the dead can't talk back. Actually, the scenes with Welles are the best in the film, having a sinister kind of poetry which many other scenes don't have enough. There's a great drop off in tension after Welles' disappears, well before the halfway mark on the 2 hr print. Welles was the ultimate in collaborative artists in the sense that he allowed for everything, and then it could be fixed in the editing. Kumel is the exact opposite, wanting to control every element with no questions asked. He made a few stylish films in this way, but having nothing more to say or to go he faded. MALPERTUIS remains a very interesting failure, but I certainly don't want to spend anymore of this lifetime with the charmless Mr. Kumel. He was a talented minor stylist in the Belgian Surrealist mode. He was obviously pathologically jealous of a Timeless talent like Welles and now he has been given a forum to act that out. It's not a very pretty picture.
Welles's first proper horror outing...came in 1971’s Malpertuis, Harry Kümel's dreamy follow-up to Daughters of Darkness. A long-time fan of Welles, Kümel reportedly found the right price to secure his participation (a common refrain when it comes to these acting gigs) for what amounted to a cushy role. Welles spends the entirety of his screen-time in bed as Cassavius, the cantankerous lord of Malpertuis, a cavernous estate that’s seen better days. He's summoned friends, family, and acquaintances to deliver his will in a sequence that also doubles as a roast when he airs his grievances about everyone. Welles hangs around for about 40 minutes, his face buried in makeup he insisted upon and his voice dubbed over in Dutch, hissing orders with a bellicosity that reportedly extended to his co-stars when cameras weren’t rolling. (Though Kümel has noted that Welles was eventually contrite and continued to assist with the picture after his contracted shooting days were over.)
While Welles is the draw here, his character’s death is the inciting incident in this deliberately-paced Old Dark House riff. Before the old man bequeaths his estate, he insists that everyone present at Malpertuis must remain in perpetuity, with the last survivor inheriting everything. Cassavius’s favorite nephew Jan (Mathieu Carrière) grows restless at the insinuation that something otherworldly haunts the mansion. Kümel teases several possibilities, sending Jan and the audience on a dizzying journey through spiral staircases and labyrinthine passageways. Mad science, occultism, murder, and the existential despair of entrapment lurk within the walls, none of them exactly foreshadowing the climax’s wild twists and turns. They must have sent contemporary audiences for a loop since Malpertuis was hacked up for American distribution and rebranded The Legend of Doom House, a generic title that belies how singularly odd Kümel's film is. Come for cranky Orson Welles, but stick around for the head-scratching – but imaginative – resolution here.
"Men are not born of the whim or will of the gods, on the contrary, gods owe their existence to the belief of men. Should this belief wither, the gods will die."
- Ross J. Anderson's, "Do you believe in Tinker Bell? The social externalities of trust"
