Sofia Coppola's first feature film The Virgin Suicides is an adaptation from American writer Jeffrey Eugenides' eponymous novel. The narratorial instance is collective: a group of four boys tells the story of five sisters they are fascinated by. The boys' role is somewhat reminiscent of that of the choir in Greek tragedies since they reveal the future of the heroines from the outset - as does the title. A strong tension is created by the juxtaposition of life in an oppressive 1970's Michigan suburb and the mysteriously liberating music tracks composed by French band Air, or between the austere catholic mores of the girls' parents (brilliantly played by Kathleen Turner and James Woods), both tragic prisoners of their values, and their daughters, whose ethereal presence is an enchantment. Their faces bathed in sweet golden light herald the omnipresence of the sun in Miss Coppola's latest work Marie-Antoinette, in the Versailles palace built by the Sun King. Aesthetically and literarily, wandering in the countryside, they are modern-day Ophelias, at one with nature, constantly on the verge of sinking. They are nymphs attracted by death. And struck by it, one by one.Le premier long métrage de Sofia Coppola, The Virgin Suicides, est une adaptation du roman éponyme de l'Américain Jeffrey Eugenides. L'instance narratoriale est collective: un groupe de quatre jeunes garçons épris de cinq soeurs dont ils racontent l'histoire. Le rôle des garçons rappelle la tragédie grecque et son choeur qui annonçait l'avenir du héros: c'est fait ici, et d'emblée, avec le titre. Une forte tension provient de la juxtaposition de la vie dans une banlieue oppressante du Michigan des années 1970 et les morceaux musicaux mystérieusement libératoires de groupe Air, entre les moeurs catholiques austères des parents des jeunes filles (interprétés avec brio par Kathleen Turner et James Woods), tous deux prisonniers tragiques de leurs valeurs, et leurs filles, dont la présence éthérée est un enchantement. Leurs visages baignent dans une douce lumière dorée qui annonce l'omniprésence du soleil dans le dernier film de Mlle Coppola, Marie-Antoinette, dans le palais du Roi Soleil. Esthétiquement et littérairement, batifolant dans la campagne, en symbiose avec la nature, sur le point de toujours sombrer, ce sont des Ophélie modernes. Des nymphes attirées par la mort, qui les frappe. Une par une.


Fascination and fright: two concepts, two emotions that seem to sum up the Roman conception of both sexuality and death, if we follow the research carried out by French writer (and Goncourt Prize winner) Pascal Quignard. In Le sexe et l'effroi (Sex and fright), he unravels the mysteries of Roman psyche. Using sources as varied as Roman and Greek manuscripts, Pompei erotic frescoes, inscriptions on stones or biographies of famous characters (like the emperor Tiberius or the painter Parrhasios), he offers an illuminating insight into how Romans dealt with life and death. There is a stark contrast between the joyous eroticism as invented by the Greeks and the fright-ridden melancholy conception of Rome. They used to call Fascinus (a deity which presided over the harvest, etc.) what the Greeks referred to as phallos: hence the term "fascination", a feeling akin to petrification and comparable to the one experienced when looking at serpent-haired Medusa, (or) at the moment before death, or else in front of the life-giving organon. In a nutshell, what is forbidden, what is socially considered as a transgression. The inevitable chapter on the mythological figure Medusa is very captivating indeed, as much as the one devoted to Medea the infanticide. Quignard expatiates on a fresco representing the instant preceding her killing her children. For the spectator it is literally fascinating: her gaze at him/her is riveting, as shown in the picture above. There is something morbid and obsessed about Rome which has been totally put aside by schoolbooks. Quignard has succeeded in bringing it all back to the surface. Rightly so, and with panache.