Jean Cocteau Diary of A Film

JEAN COCTEAU DIARY OF A FILM
JEAN COCTEAU DIARY OF A FILM"
ONCE upon a time, in a land none other than that

vague country we call Fairyland, there lived a
merchant who had been ruined by losing his ships at sea as
they were returning home, laden with merchandise. He
had three daughters and a son. The latter, called Ludovic,
was a charming scamp ; he was always getting into trouble
with his friend, Avenant. Two of the daughters, Felicie
and Adelaide, were very wicked, and had made a slave
out of the third daughter, Beauty, and had treated her as
the Cinderella of the family.
Amongst all their bickerings and troubles, Beauty

serves at table and polishes the floor. Avenant loves her.
He asks her to marry him, but she refuses. She thinks she
ought to remain unmarried and live with her father, a
good man if a little weak. He has just received some good
news. One of his ships, which he believed lost, has
reached harbour after all. People of fashion who had pre
viously ignored him, again make their calls. Again Felicie
and Adelaide clamour for dresses and jewels. Ludovic
borrows money from a usurer. As her father rides away
to the harbour, Beauty asks him to bring her back a rose,
'for none grow here'.
That's where the story begins. The sisters laugh at her

request which she made rather than ask for nothing.
When the merchant reaches the quay he finds to his dis
may that his creditors have got there first, and seized
the ship and all his goods, leaving him nothing, not even
enough to pay for a single night's lodging at one of the
inns. There is nothing he can do but ride back through
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the thick forest, though night has already fallen. It is
obvious as he rides into the mist that the poor man will
lose his way. He hunts for the path by leading his horse
by its bridle, and he sees a light which the branches part
to reveal. He steps forward and finds himself on a bridle
path. Then the branches close behind him. Before him is
an immense empty castle, bristling with riddles: candles
which light themselves and statues which seem to be
alive. He comes to a terrifying table, loaded with wine
and fruit; but, worn out, he sits down only to sleep.
The death cry of some wild animal in the distance wakes
him. He flies for his life. He loses his way again, and then,
finding himself in an arbour of roses, he remembers
Beauty's strange request, which is now the only one he
will be able to fulfil. He picks one. Immediately the
echoes of his cries: * Hello! Is there anyone there?' are
answered by a terrible voice roaring: 'Who's there!'
He turns and stands before the Beast, who looks like

a great nobleman, except that his hands and face are those
of a Beast of prey. Whereupon the Beast pronounces the
mysterious theme of the story: 'You have stolen my
roses, therefore you must die. Unless one of your daughters
will die in your place.'
It is very probable that this rose is one of the jaws of a

trap set through all eternity which will now ensnare
Beauty.
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The father is given a horse called Magnificent to ride

home on. All he has to do is to whisper in its ear: 'Go
where I wish, Magnificent go, go, go!' And no doubt
this horse is the other lip of the trap.
The sisters are fiirious. Beauty offers to go to the Beast,

Father refuses. Avenant is angry and, in the middle of a
violent scene, the old man collapses, and Beauty seizes
the opportunity to escape through the night. Mounting
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Magnificent, she whispers the magic password, and gal
lops towards her martyrdom.
But once in the Beast's castle, Beauty finds a different

fate from the one she expected. The trap has worked
well. The Beast surrounds her with luxury and kindness,
for though he looks ferocious, he has a kind heart. He
suffers because of his ugliness and his ugliness moves one
to pity.
Gradually Beauty will also be moved by it, but her

father is ill. A magic mirror shows him to her. She falls
ill. The Beast, finally, opens his trap. Beauty is given eight
days in which to go home to her father, under a promise
that she will return to the castle. The Beast has several
magic objects which are the secrets of his power. To
show his trust in Beauty he gives them to her; his glove
which will take her where she wishes, the golden key
which opens the Pavilion of Diana where his treasure is
piled, and which no one must touch till his death.
'I know your heart,' he says to Beauty, 'and this key

will be the pledge of your return/
Once home, Beauty's jewels excite the jealousy of her

sisters. They try flattery on her, and then, to dupe her,
feign tears to move her to pity and so prevent her from
returning to the castle, for they want to turn her into a
servant again. By this trick Beauty is made to break her
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promise, and then no longer dares to return. Felicie and

Adelaide steal her golden key. Magnificent gallops up.
He is the only magic object that the Beast did not give
away. That and the mirror on his back. Without doubt
these have been sent as a last appeal from her forsaken
love. But it is not Beauty who rides Magnificent to the
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castle, but Ludoyic and Avenant, whom the Sisters have
persuaded to kill the Beast and steal his treasure. They
give them the golden key.
Looking into the magic mirror Beauty sees the Beast

weeping. She is all alone. She puts on the glove. She is
in the castle. Where is the Beast? She calls, she runs all
over the garden looking for him, and finds him beside the
lake.
Meanwhile Ludovic and Avenant have reached the

Pavilion of Diana. Fearing some trap they dare not use the
key. So they climb on to the roof of the Pavilion and,
through the fanlight, they see the treasure and a statue of
Diana over which snow falls as it used to do in those glass
balls which one had as a child.
Ludovic is afraid. Avenant breaks one of the panes of

glass. He is a doubting Thomas: 'It is only glass' he cries.
Ludovic can't hold on to his hands any more, Avenant
decides to jump down into the Pavilion and scramble out
the best way he can afterwards.
Beauty is kneeling by the lake beside the Beast. She

begs him to listen to her. Lying on his back, the Beast
murmurs: 'Too late.' Beauty is almost at the point of
saying: I love you.'
Back at the Pavilion Avenant is about to let himself

down through the broken pane. Just then the statue of
Diana moves, raises her bow, aims. The arrow strikes
him in the back. Ludovic, terrified, sees Avenant's face
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contorted witii agony as it turns into the Beast's. He falls.
It was at that very moment that the Beast became

transformed under Beauty's eyes as they filled with love,
for it is only this look from a young girl which can break
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the curse. Beauty steps back for now a Prince Charming
stands, bowing, before her explaining his metamorphosis.
This Prince Charming looks extraordinarily like

Avenant ; and the likeness worries Beauty. It is as if she
were still mourning for the kind Beast, and as though she
were a little afraid of this new Avenant. But the end of
a fairy story is the end of a fairy story, and Beauty is
docile. And with the Prince with three faces she flies
away where, as he says : 'You shall be a great Queen, where
you will find your father, and where your sisters will
carry your train.'
THE DIARY
I have decided to write a diary of La Belle et la Bete as

the work on the film progresses. After a year of
preparations and difficulties, the moment has now come to
grapple with a dream. Apart from the numerous obstacles
which exist in getting a dream on to celluloid, the
problem is to make a film within the limits imposed by
strict economy. But perhaps these limitations may stimu
late imagination which is often lethargic when all means
are placed at its disposal.
Everybody knows the story of Madame Leprince de

Beaumont, a story often attributed to Perrault, because
it comes from 'Peau d'Ane' between those bewitching
covers of the Bibliotheque Rose.
The story requires faith, the faith of childhood. I mean

that one must believe implicitly at the very beginning
and not question that the mere gathering of a rose might
involve a family upheaval, or whether a man can be
changed into a beast, and vice versa. Such beliefs will
offend the grown-ups who are always ready to condemn
with derision those whose humble faith offends them.
But I have the impudence to believe that the cinema
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which can depict the impossible may convince even

them and turn such dreams into realities.
It is up to us, (that is, to me and my unit, in fact,

one entity) to avoid those particular things which can
break the spell of a fairy story, for when it comes to
sequence, the world of make-believe is at least as suscept
ible as the world of reality.
For fantasy has its own laws which are as rigid as those
of perspective. One can focus on what is distant, and hide
what is near, but the style remains defined and is so deli
cate that the slightest false note jars. I am not saying that I
have achieved this, but that is what I shall attempt within
the means at my disposal.
My method is simple ; not to aim at poetry. That must

come of its own accord. The very word whispered will
frighten it away. I shall try to build a table. It will be up
to you to eat at it, to criticize it, or to chop it up for
firewood.
Sunday, August 26th, 1945.
At last, after a year of every sort of difficulty I am go

ing to start shooting tomorrow. It would be stupid to
complain of these difficulties, inherent in such a task;
they must be taken for granted. Such hitches impede
activity, while we stand and wait and doze but think of
the lovely dreams. And what's more, it will give us the
opportunity -to do what we like with human time which
is normally so painful in its rigidity. To break time up,
turn it inside out and upside down, will be to triumph
over the inevitable.
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To add to the confusion of the endless meetings over

the scenery, the costumes, and searching for the exteriors,
I have had to add daily visits to the doctors, to say nothing
of those of the nurses to me. For as a result of sunstroke,
followed by the poisonous bites of mosquitoes, I came
back from my holiday with two carbuncles on my chest.
But this exhausting existence hasn't tired me in the

least. The film possesses me, sustains me, and makes me
insensible to distractions. It takes me from the soft an
guish of idleness and drives me from any room where I
cannot work.
Watching Christian Berard at work is an extra

ordinary sight. At Paquin's, surrounded by tulle and
ostrich feathers, smeared with charcoal, covered with
perspiration and spots, his beard on fire, his shirt hanging
out, he gives to luxury a profound significance. Be
tween his small ink-stained hands, the costumes cease to
be mere props and take on the arrogant actuality of
fashion. He makes us realize that a period dress is not
merely a costume but a fashion which belonged to a
period and changed with it. People dressed by Berard
look as though they lived at a place, in a definite period,
and not as though they were going to a fancy dress ball.
By a miracle, he has succeeded in merging the style of

Ver Meer with that of the illustrations of Gustave Dore
to Perrault's stories which are in the big book with the
red and gold cover.
What impresses me in these big dressmaking houses,

is the love, care and grace with which the women work.
Three or four old women, who used to embroider
theatre costumes for Gaby Deslys and Ida Rubinstein,
have a real genius which will die with them.
I saw the dresses this morning in the farmyard at
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Rochecorbon where I am shooting. They were hanging

In the sun, side by side, like Bluebeard's wives, only
lifeless. They lacked their souls, and the soul of a dress
is a body.
We reached Tours at five o'clock yesterday. Paris

was covered in clouds as we left. But gradually the sky
cleared on the way out, till the thin little clouds were
ruffled like lace over this scenery which inspires me. The
Loire flowed through Touraine flat beneath sun-bleached
sky. Rochecorbon 1 again found the tiny manor built
below the level of the road, which I had luckily stumbled
across when first looking for a location. The Dotnaines
had pointed it out to us, along with fifty others. The
gate by the road didn't look very promising. We very
nearly didn't bother to get out of the car. Then all at
one glance I recognized, down to the smallest detail, the
exact setting that I had become resigned to having to build.
The man who lived there looked exactly like the merchant
in the story, and his son said to me: c lf you had come
yesterday you would have heard your own voice. I was
playing your poetry records over to my father.' On top
of this the iron rings for tethering the horses are made in
the shape of some fabulous beast. Here are the windows
for the wicked sisters, doors and staircase, wash-house,
orchard, stables, dog-kennel, watering cans, tomatoes
ripening on the windowsills, vegetables, firewood, the
spring, the chicken-run, the ladders! Everything is
already there, and what's more, the interior is as good
as the exterior, and this hidden quality shines through the
walls. All that we have to do is to move the sun, that is
to say to set our scenes so that we get its light. That was
our job for the day, in the middle of which the assistant
cameraman and electricians were unrolling cables and
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stage-hands were fitting up their platforms, some out
side and others in the barns. At eight o'clock tomorrow
morning I shall set up the scene of the drying sheets. I
shall shoot this scene because the light is right, and we
are still waiting for certain equipment.
Monday morning, J '.JO,
This morning I must begin to solidify something that

I have dreamed about for a long time, something, as it
were, seen on an invisible screen, now must be modelled
in space and time. And one has to do it in bits, back
wards, forwards, before, after, in such a way that the
editing can give it continuity and life. But our first job
is to set up these lanes of drying sheets so that we get the
same theatrical perspective as at Vicence, but set up out
here where our only light is the mobile sun. We must
remember to wet the sheets so as to make them more
transparent. We must plant clothes-props that will stand
up straight, split bamboos for clothes-pegs, and counter
too much shadow with lamps. We must avoid the fore
ground which won't match the background of the orchard
and then replace the painted back-cloth of the orchard,
where Beauty goes and sits when Avenant draws back
the first sheet as if it were a theatre curtain, to show the
bench against its background of white lanes. And above
all we must remember never to mention the word 'cord'
which is taboo in film work under pain of a fine. It is
all such a mixture of realism and fantasy that I could not
sleep and exhausted myself trying to foresee the diffi
culties.
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The artists: Mila Parely, Nane Germon, Marais,

Michel Auclair will all be there at nine. I shall make
them up, dress them, dirty them, until they look all
right for a story where dirt is not dirt, for as Goethe
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says, truth and reality contradict each other (like a
shadow which throws a reflection as it does in that en
graving of Rubens). We shall lunch on the set.
Monday evening, 7.30.
A tough beginning in wonderful weather which became

overcast at about five o'clock. It was very sultry. I had
to struggle against the wine which the owner of the house
had forced me to drink, in spite of there being water
from a spring so clear that the animals take the trough
to be empty. There are washing places, streams and
little waterfalls wherever one looks.
The d6cor was one of those that I had to make with

my own hands. Nobody could help me. To start with, the
clothes props bent, the clothes lines weren't long enough,
the sheets were too short and there weren't enough of
them. To crown all, the wind got up, making them
billow, and ruined their perspectives. The costumes
stood out marvellously against the walls of linen, and
made fine shadows through them. But, worse luck, at
five o'clock it clouded over and the storm made me
stop work on the ensembles; and, as I had to Jt use lamps,
I did some close-ups. Mila poses, poses decomposes.
The camera develops a perceptible tremor. The electri
cians and workmen try to fix it, but can't, so we stop.
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To the firm it's an everyday occurrence, but to me

another matter. My work has been interrupted in fall
flight. I quit. I throw in. I collapse. I go back to Tours
worn out with fatigue, with the wine and disappointment.
I had hoped that the fine weather would last, and that I
could break my run of bad luck. I was naive. The same
old difficulties pursue me, and as they appear each time
from a different angle they take me unawares.
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Will we have any sun tomorrow? Will the camera work

properly? What else can go wrong? I must try to get
some sleep. There is nothing to do but wait. That's how
it is with films. If I weren't so absorbed in the antics
of this troupe in this outlandish barn, I'd enjoy the sight
of the orchard and this perfect little manor house, with
all the cast masquerading about, taking baths and making
themselves up at a huge kitchen table outside, near the
technicians who stand eating their dinner from planks
laid across trestles.
Kindness is often double-edged. The technicians like

me, they would even quarter themselves for me. But
for all that I always end up working by myself. Carne,
Christian, etc. they all lose their tempers at some
time, and insist on something or other, and what else
can one do but listen? This evening after dinner I spoke
to Darbon. I told him that I thought that it was a godsend
that the camera had broken down, for his decor looked
as though it had been made out of handkerchiefs and
walking-sticks, fit for some charade such as I sometimes
improvise with Berard in my room. I told him that it
merely gave a crude idea which he must now realize,
and that, whatever the sky was like tomorrow, I at least
wanted to find a real set, and not just a poet's improvi
sation. With that I went to bed. The sky is still overcast.
I can just see a few stars. The trees are restless. They tell
me that the camera is working again, but it is possible
that it still quivers just a little. Nothing is worse than
risking a take only to find out afterwards that it is out of
focus. I shall be fretting about this all tomorrow.
Tuesday morning, J o'clock.
First thing, I look at the sky. It is overcast! Now we

are going to be held up for days, with the actors all
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ready, and able to do nothing but play cards. Delannoy
warned me that one must always stand at the ready in
Touraine as the weather changes in an instant.
I wonder if it is not all to the good that it is cloudy

now. For if it weren't I should probably be shooting with
a patched-up camera I could never be sure of. If it stays
like this for a few days, I may be able to get hold of
another, and also have someone who can arrange the
sheets properly (and a few more of them too).
I've got the same unit that we used in Baron Fantome,

willing and helpful. Everybody, down to the clapper-boy
takes a real interest in the film, and helps the artists in all
sorts of ways. You can get them to do anything you like.
Which is different from the theatre, where the stage
hands keep to their dark wings, and have not the slightest
interest in what is going on on the stage. I was astonished
to hear of the speed with which they work in America.
Rene Clair told me he took from twelve to seventeen
shots a day. He completed I Married a Witch in eight weeks.
On the other hand their trade union difficulties are even
worse than ours. In his last picture he had to make a shot

of five of his principals in a ship in mid-ocean. This had to
be done outside usual working-hours. As they were
three hundred yards off, he decided to make extras
stand-in. The extras insisted on being paid the same
salaries as the stars for whom they were doubling, and
what's more, refused to go on unless the stars were also
paid. Even this was impossible because the stars were
working on other pictures and their union forbids them
to have two contracts running at the same time. So he
decided to replace the extras by painted silhouettes.
Then the extras complained that the silhouettes were
doing them out of work. The whole thing was impossible.
Rene Clair consulted his lawyer, and was told that
since the scene was one with big waves in it there was a
way round the difficulty which would allow him to pro
ceed. For the shot would consequently come under the
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Union of Stunt Artists. And apparently this Union alone
allows one to shoot without committing an offence of
one kind or another.
3 o'clock.
Mila and Jean Marais brought my lunch to my room.

An extraordinary luxury in this hotel (which is other
wise not so bad) though Josette thinks it some one-eyed
place in Tananarive. It's still cloudy but breaking up.
It's all a matter of the intensity of the light; the assistants
stand testing it with their orange filter glasses up to their
eyes. If it's all right we can shoot, otherwise we must
wait. I shall be on the set at a quarter to nine.
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Tuesday evening, 1 1 o'clock.
Very grey and overcast this morning. The clouds

aren't even moving. When we reached the set it looked
like a junk shop. I roused the technicians and sent them
to cut planks to make X's, with a third across the top to
hang the linen. Gradually this changed the look of things.
The toy set became a real theatre of linen and the clothes
props broke up the flat surfaces. Alekan and his assistants
tested the camera. They decided to try it out on a sort of
geometrically chequered target, and to put a short length
of film through it, and watch through the view-finder to
see if it still had a tremor. The question was how to
develop ten yards of film on the spot, using a test-bath
in an improvised laboratory. They managed it somehow
and later I saw them washing their film in the wash-house.
The camera works. And a new one will arrive tomorrow.
I hurry to set everything in position for the close-ups ;
for these I don't need sunlight. No sooner am I ready
than the sky clears and the sun shines. But it's impossible
now to go back to the scene of the merchant's departure.
For that we would need Josette, Marcel Andre, the horse
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etc. . . I go on, but now Alekan has to avoid the very sun
that we've been waiting for all day, and hide it with
planks. In short, fake up the half-light which we've been
having all day. For now electricity plays the part of the
sun.
Before C16ment arrives he is finishing his film on the

Resistance of the Railway Workers in Brittany and has
sent me his younger brother meanwhile I must do
everything myself, from pegging the sheets, knotching the
clothes-props, catching the chickens and driving them on
to the set, making the lanes of sheets and faking the ex-
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posures. (One can't imagine what it is like in 194^ to

hire twelve additional sheets. Roger Rogelys, the stage
manager, has found nine for me with great difficulty.
I had six before.)
These alleys and wings of sheets which weren't right

at first are being fixed, but thatmeans I can't takea bird's
eye shot of the whole set now. Perhaps it's just as well.
For if 1 tried to describe this labyrinth of linen to the
reader I'd just lose him in it but it'll be all right when I
show the whole box of tricks from above. I must avoid
moving shots and reveal these white corridors in suc
cessive shocks so that nobody will know how small the
set really is.
I'll leave the hanging of the sheets to the last and then
I'll get them back to their proper place at the bottom of
the orchard ; but I'll shoot that scene elsewhere, which is
a film director's licence.
This afternoon I was almost drunk with fatigue, thirst,

sheets, pegs, props, and I got completely muddled up.
My poor head could no longer think how to match the
shots. Jean Marais saved the scene. He came and held the
prop for me, and got my ideas straightened out with as
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tonishing patience and intuition.
Got home at eight o'clock. Dined with the unit and a

lady journalist. She was looking for anecdotes. But hear
ing us talk of cutting problems, perspectives etc. drove
her mad. She must have been expecting the old chestnuts
of a theatre company. How fortunate I am that the prob
lems that interest me also interest the unit. Take the case
of A., the make-up man. He never takes the slightest in
terests in the shots, or bothers to see if his own work
looks all right under the lights. He never tries to perfect
anything. He sits miles away from the set reading a paper,
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and thinks he's done enough because he has stuck on an

eyelash, or powdered the back of someone's neck.
Whereas everybody else puts their whole back into it,
and even my cameraman listens to the advice of Aldo, the
still photographer.
I'm terrified tomorrow morning will be overcast. I

must finish this sheet-scene with the nine o'clock sun on
it. If it is overcast, I shall start setting up the merchant
going off on horseback. I can only shoot this scene at
five o'clock when the sun's shining obliquely on the back
of the house. The worst of it is that that scene is a long
one, what with the angle, paraphernalia, and scaffolding,
and Marcel Andre has to be back in Paris before the
others.
I was forgetting the aeroplane. No sooner had we got

the lights ready for a close-up of Mila, than a plane from
the school flew over us, looping the loop, and ruining our
sound. We telephoned the Colonel of the school, to beg
him to try and stop the students from doing this some
what expensive kind of showing off. He promised to do
what he could.
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Wednesday morning, 7 o'clock.
Awakened by a storm, with the windows wide open at

the bottom of my bed. The mad trees sweep the window
frame, and the lightning seemed to strike them with
magnificent anger and phosphorescent pallor. Thunder
rolls down all the slopes of the sky.
May the clouds all burst and relieve us from this suffo
cating weight.
Even whilst I write it calms a little. A pity. I had hoped

for a monster of a storm which would break the weather.
If it doesn't we are in the soup. It's strange that an enter
prise as expensive as making films can be held entirely at
the barometer's mercy.
Wednesday evening, 1 1 o'clock*
I'm so tired that I have to force myself to write even

these few notes. It has been overcast all day with one or
two bright spells of bad light. With the greatest difficulty
I have only been able to take seven shots, and these only,
as it were, on the wing, by surprise. The whole earth and
sky were against me. After doing the shots of Michel
and Jeannot which only last a second, but took hours to
prepare, I got ready for the shots of Josette, Mila, Nane
and Marcel Andre behind the house. Seven o'clock is
five o'clock by the sun. It appeared and then disappeared.
Aeroplanes shuttled across the sky, the camera trembles !
(A new one had been sent from Paris. It imitates the
eccentricities of the old one.) I was frantic (which is ex
hausting) but I tried to control myself so as not to upset
the others. In Touraine one has to shoot early in the
morning and in the evening. And the hours in the middle
of the day when we can do nothing are those in which
the trade unions expect us to do everything. Here the
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weather can change in a few minutes. The sun comes out
when least expected, but if you wait for it, it never
comes. It shines when you set up the scene, and dis
appears the moment you give the order to shoot. I got
26
back to the hotel at seven o'clock. Maison Paquin came

down this evening from Paris and they are fitting Jean
Marais's costumes of the Beast and Prince Charming. The
Beast is superb. The Prince is still not impressive enough
though it is completely in Perrault's style. I have called
the artists for 7.30 tomorrow morning. To bed.
An article in the Tours paper: misrepresentations in

every line.
In a spirit of instinctive contradiction I am avoiding

all camera movement, which is so much in the fashion
that the experts think it indispensable. The scene with the
linen is done flat, like a house of cards. I'm finding it very
difficult to make the artists understand that the style of
the film needs a lack of naturalness and a kind of super
natural relief. Little is spoken. One cannot permit one
self the least ambiguity. The phrases are very short and
precise. The ensemble of these phrases which disconcert
the actors and stop them from 'playing' , forms the cogs in
a big machine, incomprehensible in detail because they
are incomprehensible in themselves ; but in their proper
continuity they fall naturally into place. There are times
when I am almost ashamed of asking them to do things
which they do only out of confidence in me. Such con
fidence destroys my own and makes me feel I am not
worthy of theirs.
Thursday morning, J o'clock.
I woke up with a start in the night. It was raining. I

suddenly realized a mistake I had made, which I must
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27
correct without anybody noticing it. If they did they

would lose confidence in me. I am not a real director and
probably never shall be. I get too interested in what is
happening. I begin to watch it as though it were a play.
I become a part of the audience and then I forget all about
the continuity. I have forgotten the continuity of move
ment where Marcel Andre mounts his horse. So that we
can still use that shot, I shall have to cut a bit of Nane
Gernon at the window. She will have to say her lines
again and then leave the window, so that Marcel in the
next cut can make his movement. This means I shall
finish up behind the horse when he mounts it and says
'And you, Beauty, what shall I bring you?' If Clement
were here I shouldn't make that kind of mistake. He
must be having terrible weather in Brittany. He should
be here by now. On top of this, Marcel Andr6 has to
leave in five days, and the weather's so uncertain it pre
vents me from getting on with his scenes. It's still raining
this morning but there is a chance that the sun may come
out later. In Touraine the weather can change completely
with extraordinary rapidity.
y.JO in the evening.
First day that I have actually done what I wanted to do.

Splendid sunshine and clouds. We took advantage of the
clouds after lunch to work behind the house, and pro
duced the effect of evening by using lamps.
But this morning we nearly lost the little time that

we'd gained on our schedule owing to the flying school
28
Page 18
students looping the loop above us. Darbon went to the

officers. They are to pay us a visit at ten o'clock. One of
them is Mangin's son. They've promised to make the
pilots fly further off.
I've nearly finished the linen scene. With a bit of luck

I should be through with it tomorrow, between nine and
one o'clock. (Ludovic and his watering cans, Mila's
shadow; Beauty's arrival in her Princess's dress in the
lanes of sheets, discovered by Jean Marais who lifts up the
first sheet as though it were a stage curtain a Vltalienne,
to reveal the background behind the bench.)
In order to make sure of Mila and Nane's laughter in

the close-up (on Josette's line, 'bring me a rose . . .')
I asked Aldo to dress himself up as a hag. He made up his
face under a veil, and wore long blond curls made of
woodshavings. He was grotesque and looked like an old
witch. I pushed him out in front of them after the clapper-
boy. But they told me they laughed only because they
didn't find him funny.
After the linen tomorrow I shall go on to the orchard,

and do the scene of Beauty appearing with her father, to
link up with the settings of the sheet and the house.
Lebreton is recording sounds of chickens and running
water for me, so that the background noises have the
correct atmosphere.
The horse, Aramis, arrived with his master from Paris

at four o'clock. He looks like Rommel's horse which
Montgomery rides. He's a white Arab and kneels down,
and rears like a wave crowned with foam. I'll keep his
circus harness for it is absolutely right for the style of a
children's book. I've asked his owner to send his false
tail. Have seen the sedan chairs (too heavy and too clean).
Have seen the crossbows (which don't work). But I don't
c 29
Page 19
get worked-up. When I do so, it's done deliberately in

order to galvanize people and get the best out of them .
Friday evening, 8 o'clock.
Accident to Mila. She was trying to ride Aramis. He

reared, or she made him rear. I was taking a shot of
Josette. Mila had been sunbathing in a bathing costume,
having washed her hair, and was just taking Aramis for a
walk through the lucerne. Once in front of the house,
where none of us could see her, she must have tried to
make this circus pony rear, by reigning up. The horse
fell back on top of her. It's a miracle she isn't dead.
They've taken her over to Tours. She's very brave and
makes light of it. But I don't suppose she'll be able to
work for some time, nor does she yet realize the extent
of her injuries as she's still suffering from shock, A re
action will probably set in. Her right leg has only super
ficial injuries.
It was beautifully fresh this morning. Sun shining,

but the planes still there. Alekan is perched up, as though
on a tight rope and can only just keep his balance. As
soon as he's ready to shoot, it clouds over, a plane goes
over, a dog barks, the guinea fowls drown the actresses'
voices, or the sound goes wrong.
After an anti-diet lunch with the owners, I return to

the linen scene. Josette's sky blue dress is ravishing in
this very simple white setting.
And to explain this background away I make her say:

'Who's done my washing?' Avenant replies, 'We have',
then she adds, 'The sheets are badly hung and are trailing
Page 20
on the ground.'
I get utterly exhausted. We are all going to dine at a

country pub on the banks of the Cher. But it's difficult
finding a road where debris doesn't block the car. Another
anti-diet meal. I try with Alekan to solve the head-
splitting problem of how to do the shots without using
Mila, and which will let us finish with Marcel Andre. I
would have liked to have taken the archer scene to
morrow morning which opens the film, but the only
things we can find at Tours are some very heavy bows
which are quite unworkable.
Marais has got a boil coming on his thigh .
Saturday evening, 8 o'clock.
Mila's better. Nane stayed with her. She's had massage

and been allowed to take a bath. Although she still walks
bow-legged, that doesn't seem to stop her laughing at
herself and at everything else.
A good day. Emile Darbon complains that I don't get

on with the schedule quick enough but keep stopping to
take extra shots, which the company haven't allowed for.
But it's these extras, the inspiration of the moment,
which enliven and enrich a film. I am delighted with those
I've taken and am sure they will help. I took one today
of an open cart-shed full of ladders, ploughshares, forks,
baskets, ropes and bundles of faggots. Beauty, Ludovic
and Avenant sit here when they ask about the Beast:
'Does it walk on four legs?' etc.
I decided to do this shot because it was overcast, and I
could almost use studio lighting on it. But it took such a

long time to dress Josette and do her hair that, by the
time she was ready, the sun was out and I found myself
Page 21
having to use awnings to hide it. Josette's grace and sensi
tive acting astonish me. My short lines suit her. I never
have to take anything twice. As Beauty she has naivety,
simplicity and just that suggestion of superiority, as
though she has seen things which her family have not even
dreamt about. She dominates Ludovic, cherishes her
father, but is not ashamed of them when she returns
home. She has to say her line: 'Who has done my wash
ing?' dressed in pearls, tulle, silk and gold, yet even so,
she does not lose her simple manner. After lunch I hung
the sheets over the poles at the bottom of the garden.
Beauty, her father, Ludovic and Avenant sit with their
backs to us and are seen through a parted sheet, which
is lifted at the beginning of the sequence; thus revealing
the house too . Beauty kisses her father and then moves into
the scene with Avenant and Ludovic which I shot this
morning. As Avenant goes off towards the left, he lets the
sheet fall again. In this way the scene ends, as it began,
with a linen curtain. From there we go to the orchard.
I shall take the shot of Beauty from an avenue of trees
down there, as she appears on the distant terrace with
her father, which causes the stupified Felicie, espying
her over a sheet, to cry: 'Look, a lady from the Court,
with my father on his feet again.'
The second shot is of Beauty and her father coming to

wards us through the mottled shadows of the leaves, as
Avenant exclaims: 'But it's Beauty!' Whilst we were
shooting this, I was lucky enough to have a cock crow
right in the middle of their walk. The sun is lifting,
it will soon be behind the house. We run to meet it and,
3*
on the wing, just manage to catch the shot of Marcel

Andre bending down from his horse to Beauty: *And
you, Beauty, what shall I bring you?' It is this shot which
leads to her reply which I took as a close-up : 'Bring me a
rose, father, for none grow here.' This is followed by her
sister's mocking laughter, shot yesterday.
Page 22
We finished up with the shot of Beauty taken from

behind (the horse goes off between her and the porch),
because it's six o'clock, and from then on the unions
make the company pay overtime.
I shan't shoot tomorrow, Sunday. Mila's still too ill,

which leaves me only makeshifts. If she's well enough by
Monday I will tackle the scenes of the necklaces, and the
sedan chairs.
The crossbows are hopeless. I shall have to use long

bows or slings,
FStes, celebrating the liberation of Tours, going on all

this evening and tomorrow. (Josette refuses to ride
Aramis, so some girl, a neighbour of the owner of Roche-
corbon, is to double for her.)
A bit of luck: Clement and his wife arrived this

evening. Shall now have somebody to help me with
things: clouds, continuity and aeroplanes. And what's
more, the assistance and advice of the man who has just
completed La Bataille du Rail, single-handed. It's a
wonderful film acted entirely by railway workers and
engines. He has only the derailment left to shoot with
eleven tracking cameras.
I told him that the style of my film requires ordinary

run of the mill stuff: anything that comes to hand
watering cans, benches etc. And quite apart from the
cost, that's the way to avoid the picturesque. The
costumes are sufficient.
33
Sunday.
Rest. Luckily it was a fairly cloudy day, Mila's getting

better. The hotel proprietor tells me that Jeannot last
Page 23
night (fSte for the liberation of Tours) jumped fully
dressed into the fountain outside the Town Hall. It must
have been five o'clock this morning when they came in:
they're all still asleep.
I know nothing quite so well-defined as the relation

ship between Josette and the two sisters in the film, and
it's exactly the same off the set. I don't mean they go on
nagging Josette ; Mila and Nane are kindness itself. What
I mean is that these two form one distinct group and
Josette another, whereas Michel, who has both reserve
and exuberance, goes between the two.
Jeannot makes another group all to himself. He gets

on with the others but is at the same time aloof. He is,
as it were, a friend but not of the family.
With such temperamental differences between the

artists, it follows that it's almost unnecessary for me to
rehearse them. They get the feeling of the scenes right
away.
Michel, whom I chose after his d6but in V Eternal

Retour (part of Lionel) is still paralysed by the camera.
If I restrain him, he stiffens up entirely. Therefore, I let
him do 'a little too much' and thus run the risk of getting
grimaces instead of that joyous mobility of his mouth.
I dare say he'll loosen up in a few days and then I'll shoot
the important scene.
Christian B6rard's part is immensely important in the

film. And it's strange having to invent some sort of
formula so that we can have him in the unit without
coming up against union regulations. His costumes with
34
their elegance, power and sumptuous simplicity play

just as big a part as the dialogue. They are not merely
decorations; they reinforce the slightest gesture, and
Page 24
the artists find them comfortable. What a pity it is that
France cannot afford the luxury of colour films. The
arrival of Beauty at the wash-house, wearing her grand
sky-blue dress, surrounded by black chickens, was an
absolute miracle.
The Paquin people had to use what materials they

could find, without worrying about colour. In spite of
that, this fortuitous contrast of colours is dazzling and
probably more exciting than if it had been deliberately
chosen. As soon as Nane, Jeannot, Michel and Josette are
dressed, made up, be-wigged, they wander about the
garden and farm. It's then that the stone-work, windows
and doors come to life. It is we, in our modern clothes,
who look like intruders, ridiculous ghosts.
When the light gets bad and the clouds start moving so
mysteriously that the assistant cameraman, watching
through his orange glass, can no longer see what's going
to happen, I lie down on the grass, close my eyes and let
my poem (The Crucifixion) work on me. It carries me so
far away that I lose all contact with my surroundings and,
when the look-out man shouts that the sun's coming out
again, I must look just as though I am waking from a
dream.
Sunday 11.30.
Undoing my dressing I noticed I have a small boil

coming. R. warned me that by going away I had prevented
him from completely immunizing me. All I ask is that
35
it doesn't go bad before I finish shooting these exteriors.
I was forgetting something good that's happened. Ara,

the make-up man, now comes on to the set. A remark I
Page 25
made seems to have changed his attitude.
Marais came to my room to see me. His boil is

enormous, and very badly placed on the inside of his
thigh. I, myself, know only too well what he must be
going through. I wonder what would be the best thing
to do. R. has convinced me that ordinary doctors don't
know how to treat this illness, and I'm not happy being
at Tours so far from his advice.
Sunday, midnight.
Dined with my brother and sister-in-law at Champ-

gault. Came home under a stormy sky, in the distance
a black storm threatened with silent lightning.
Majestic Cinema. Most exciting moment: our first

projection. I've just got back from it. I must say it's
very beautiful. Clarity, a richness of detail, contour,
contrasts, with something imponderable like a light,
rotating wind. That's most encouraging and tomorrow,
with the sun's permission, we'll tackle the necklace scene.
I was on the spot with C16ment and Alekan at four
o'clock. Together we worked out the angles for the
shots. But I don't like making up my mind too far ahead.
Films gain by improvisation. What's Alekan's work like?
Like a piece of old silver which has been polished till
it shines like new. One can find that exact sort of soft
brilliance in certain pieces of silver which have been
polished up with skins.
Monday morning, J o'clock,
Jeannot came to my room to do his dressing. The boil

is well and truly a carbuncle and it's getting even bigger.
He's going to see the doctor this evening. And will have
to be injected. The worst of it is he insists on riding the
horse. As it is he can hardly walk.
Page 26
Escoffier and Darbon have gone to Paris. They are

coming back the day after tomorrow, bringing the four
lackeys and the noblemen with them.
Monday evening, 1 1 o'clock.
A day when the threads of fate entangled and tied

themselves into knots.
But Mila and Jeannot are such heroes they'd film half-
dead. Thick fog this morning. We set up the cameras
behind the sheets at the bottom of the orchard. The mist
lifted at eleven o'clock. We shot the scene of the heads
showing above the linen. Mila can't get down from the
bench. Jeannot carries her. I add a line: 'You leave me
alone' as if he helps her only out of scorn. Camera, lamps
are moved. I prepare the meeting scene with the neck
lace. Tackle it after a thousand and one difficulties;
Alekan has the inhumanity of all cameramen, mathema
ticians and astronomers; he arranges and corrects his
lights without realizing that Mila, all this time, can
hardly stand on her feet.
Lunch. Clouds over. Rains. Go to sleep after lunch.

Open an eye. I guess the unit are playing 'portraits' here
37
in this little laundry where I'm lying. Now the sun's

shining. I get up only to find the actors have all taken
their make-up off and changed. Ask Clement. He tells me
that the technicians won't work after four o' clock unless
they get overtime according to their union rates. Darbon
refuses these terms on principle. He's in Paris. Clement
argues and ends up by promising to pay the overtime
and to get all the equipment shifted ready into position.
. . . We carry the camera and lights. We make up the
Page 27
actors, we do their hair and we dress them.
Then the sun goes in. So that Alekan has to change his
angle again. Meanwhile, we can do nothing but stand
around watching Mi la who is trying to make light of
things. She is very, very ill but wants to get on so that
she can leave tomorrow evening and come back Saturday ;
for, at all costs, she wants to try and avoid having a law
suit with the other company she's filming for.
I suspect she's worse than she shows ; and even worse

than she imagines. No doubt her journey will crack her
up completely so that she won't be able to do her film
in Paris, or get back here which will put finish to ours.
All this proves too much for her; she breaks down
under the strain, stammering, swaying, her face con
torted. She's on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The
second shot (which would have saved us) missed fire.
The sky clouds over again ; only a few minutes left clear.
The nerve storm breaks. Mila collapses on her knees
amongst the lettuces. She's carried off.
I go with Jeannot to Tours to see Dr Vial. We have to

wait in a bar there where we're given white wine, bread
and butter, and minced pork. He takes us to his clinic on
the road to Rochecorbon. He gives Marais's leg a local
anaesthetic then lances the carbuncle. Jeannot is very
38
tough and brave but seems to suffer terribly. I leave him

at the clinic and will pick him up tomorrow morning.
I'll avoid doing the scenes with the horse and will shoot
something easy. The doctor is going to make him lie
quiet for twenty- four hours, by which time the carbuncle
should be ripe.
You may just imagine what it's like trying to work

under these difficulties ; for, besides having the sun as our
Page 28
boss, we have to try and get through with those scenes
so Marcel Andre can finish; yet, at the same time, we
daren't overtax our invalids.
Tuesday evening j 11 o'clock.
A good day, a run of luck. Mist lifted; sun, cloudless

sky. Fairly quick shots, even the horse did exactly what
it was supposed to do. The scenes are exactly as I visual
ized them. Mila holds out. Jeannot, who slept at the
clinic, manages to film; he'll have to rush back still in
his Lenain costume as he's due to have his leg lanced.
By six o'clock this evening I had taken eleven shots in

all and finished with Marcel. Even the necklace scene is
in the can.
Madame T., Mila's agent, arrived at the hotel with an

ambulance to take her to Paris, so that she could fulfil
her engagements there. She's quite mad, for Mila is
luckily insured in both films, and runs no risk of finan
cial collapse. The Insurance Company's doctor comes to
the hotel. It is Vial. He is worried. She'll have to be
X-rayed tomorrow morning. If there is the smallest crack
39
in her pelvis she'll have to go into plaster and our film

will collapse.
Jeannot won't be able to ride for a whole week. I must

take a deep breath and attempt the impossible. Whatever
happens I shall manage to nurse them and somehow get
on with the film at the same time. And add this tour de
force to a thousand others. Get to bed utterly exhausted
and so thin that a woman journalist declares: 'His face
is made of his two profiles stuck together. '
Page 29
Notes taken on the spot, Wednesday morning, September

Sth, 1945, 11 o'clock.
Til snatch this story from the depths, by shock tactics.

And if fate's against rne I'll deal with fate. I'll cheat it with
a card trick.
I live in another world, a world where time and place

are wholly mine. I now live without newspapers, letters,
telegrams, without any contact with the outside world
at all.
The mist lifted this morning but the clouds crossed,

then superimposed themselves one on top of the other,
until the whole sky was covered in layers. For all that,
we must somehow take the shot of the horse, ridden by
the local girl who is doubling for Josette. I do it 'silent'
so that I can shout my orders. C16ment is hidden in the
barn pouring tetrachloride on Aramis's hooves and false
tail.
Stage-hands, hidden behind beams and faggots, hold

an invisible string to open the yard door. We've only
40
got two metres to play about with and this dominates

the scene. They goad Aramis; he appears. I give the
orders for the doors to open. Aramis hesitates, then
prances out like a dancer. We deliberately speed up the
camera so as to slow down his movements on the screen.
Just three blue rents in the sky give us enough time to
trap this shot in the can.
The car brings Marais back from the clinic where Mila
is being X-rayed, Our next shot will be the one where he
(Marais) fetches the horse from the courtyard and leads
it into the barn by the bridle.
Page 30
The weather's breaking up. A black cloud drifts to
wards the sun which, like a disc, is pale as the moon.
I'm writing outdoors on a little table opposite a shed
stuffed full of a peasant's possessions in the manner of
Le Nain. I was cold so they brought me the merchant's
dressing-gown.
Cameras, projectors now emigrate towards the farm

yard. The girl doubling for Josette dismounts in the
midst of her escorting family. They are an astonishing
collection and remind one of Caran d'Arche horsemen.
Marais limps. The stage-hands are busy making deals in
brandy. Cl&ment, who's from Brittany, is beginning to
understand the caprices of this sky which can cloud over
and clear again all in the space of five minutes.
Midday.
At the moment we are all sitting amongst the straw

and hay. The tracks divide the barn by the big plank door.
We keep one eye on the sun. Marais's already rehearsed

The difficulties he finds in turning Aramis makes a good
shot framed by the door. Just before it opens I add the
line for him: *I am going', so as to explain why he walks
so resolutely. The real reason is he is in too much pain to
loiter.
As I write these lines Marais asks me if I want him to

stay or whether he can go to the clinic. Clement reports
two layers of cloud. I give the order to lunch. Nothing
we can do but wait and see. Stop.
1 o'clock.
We lunched. Everything upsets my diet. The owner

Page 31
gave me oysters. I'll have the tracking rails put up in
front of the house in the corner of the courtyard. I'll
take Beauty's flight by moonlight. She'll wear her cape
and walk the whole length of the house, till she reaches
the iron ring decorated with the head of a horned mon
ster. Then she'll look to the right and to the left. Alekan
will close-up on Beauty and this iron beast on the ring
which, in her father's home, as it were, gives a preview
of her future. This seventeenth century ironwork im
pressed me the very first day I discovered the house. It
was the house.
The car brings news of Mila. No bones broken.

A month's rest. I've been told I can use her tomorrow.
That gives me tomorrow and the next day. The little
lackeys' are at Tours. If we get any sun I'll be able to
finish with Mila and then she can rest.
42
Beauty's exit by moonlight a fatal shot. (Had to use

a red filter.) Alekan just gets his lamps, screens and rails
fixed then the sun has to move. Now shadows spoil
everything. I tell him so. But how can you talk to a
cameraman, even a charming one, who opposes you with
all the indifference of the stars ?
As a last straw, Alekan admits that he's got nothing but

the shadow. It's now four o'clock. Marais hasn't come
back from the clinic yet. I decide to try the close-up
'bring me a rose'. We set it. Marais arrives. He limps
horribly. After an interminable delay I give the order to
shoot. Josette does the second take marvellously. But
'sound' tells me that an aeroplane drowned the last
phrase. Josette's nervous and distraught and can't re
capture her natural simplicity. Now she's either too
simple or not simple enough. I persist and only stop after
the seventh take. But I'm worried. So I decide to take one
more. I take two. (Nine takes in all.) The sound people
always exaggerated. Probably it is the bad one that will
Page 32
turn out to be the best.
Marais, exhausted by his pain, is in a very bad temper.

He goes back to the clinic. He's to be operated on to
morrow morning which means we shan't have him for
two days. I'll take the opportunity and use Mila in the
sedan chair scene.
I 'break down' the sedan chair with Alekan and

Cl&ment and arrange the set so that Mila need move as
little as possible.
I often ask myself whether or not these exhausting

days may not be the sweetest of my life. For they are
friendly, full of fun and harmless little quarrels, and con
tain moments when we seem to hold fleeting time in our
hands.
43
Thursday the 6th, j p.m.
Overcast. The Insurance Company must pay up for

Mila and Jeannot. They're living at the clinic. Here at
Rochecorbon everybody is freezing and trying to keep
warm under a pile of costumes. Escoffier is dressing the
little lackeys. I rehearse them in the farmyard. Decide to
try two shots which can be lit artificially. I shoot Nane
waking Blin's brother, who's asleep in a cart full of straw.
We lunch by the heat of a thousand watt lamp and end up
by believing it's the sun. Aldo goes quite mad and takes
innumerable photos from the table, some of the lackeys,
and some of the actresses who are sprawling in the straw.
Darbon's back from the clinic. They've left Mila there,
as the weather's so dull. Jeannot has had his operation.
Alekan decides to shoot the short scene which takes
place at the wash-house without waiting for the sun.
So the car goes off to fetch Mila. We'll just throw a skirt
and a man's shirt on her and Nane; and we'll tie some
kind of a rag round their hair. I didn't think much of this
Page 33
scene at first, but now it's become rather lovely, with
the girls in white surrounded by the billowing sheets.
With the frothing lather, Mila's laughter and Nane
throwing a bundle of linen straight at the camera, all
this excitement makes me think of the Armance wash-house
and the little hunchback doctor. Unfortunately, there was
nothing else I could do. The laundry's now a mle of
lackeys, make-up men, and dressers. They are all singing
Russian songs in unison. Mila tries on her grand party
dress. I leave. Go to the clinic. Car drops me at the
bottom of the hill ; Moulouk is off like an arrow. I find
him waiting outside Jeannot's door. Mila and Michel
come and join us. Gradually the whole company instals
44
itself in this model little clinic. I'm thinking of spending

several days here to start the insulin treatment again.
I cut this shot as the film was too long.
If it's sunny tomorrow, I hope to shoot the sedan chair

scene with the little lackeys. And with a bit of luck that
will finish with Mila.
Why does the notice 'Film in Progress' create such

respect? All this theatrical clutter out in the open is
fascinating. I never tire of it. It makes up for the endless
waiting. Nothing could describe the pleasant atmosphere
of our hotel (hotel de Bordeaux) in spite of its draw
backs. It's like being at college again, or on a cruise.
Living together, working together and discussing the
work; that, to me, represents the height of luxury.
Friday the Jth, $ a.m.
Saw a short projection last night. Jeannot chopping

some wood. Michel filling the watering cans. The sisters
Page 34
on the terrace with their father. But it's irritating to see
so little. I'm impatient for a proper run-through, but
I'm well aware of the drawbacks in this case where a reel
represents only shots consisting of short sequences or a
few lines. The rhythm is only produced by the cutting;
that's why it's so difficult for the actors to understand
what they are doing. It's my job to make them see how
their little scene fits into the whole. That's what makes
film-acting so difficult. If the actor hasn't absolute con
fidence in the director he imagines that his lines are
unimportant, and consequently tends to say them without
D 45
conviction, with the result that the whole film is weak,

Another difficulty lies in trying to find a style not in itseli
realistic but convincing in relation to the costumes and
the strangeness of the story. I must remember not to let
them talk too loudly, but at the same time make them see
the importance of the words.
Wonderful stars tonight but that doesn't mean any

thing, for we often have fine nights only to find cloud in
the morning.
Friday midnight.
Brilliant day. Sunshine. We must take Mila's shots.

She may not be strong enough tomorrow. We're in
the farmyard, chairs all ready. Hens inside, flapping in all
directions. Mila with dark blue dress and felt hat is
arrogantly smart. Shoot the scene when the sisters arrive
to find the lackey asleep in the chair. Follow it with Mila
getting into her chair and settling herself as if she's on
the lavatory, then the shot of her shouting through the^
door.
Have lunch with the L's, whilst they prepare for the
Page 35
scene. Bothered by cloud. After lunch I get back and
just manage to snatch the shot of Ludovic shutting his
sisters into the chairs and their moving off. Another
shot of the chairs being carried. The lackeys kicking the
cellar door. The chairs are very heavy. Paul, dressed as a
lackey, drops the handles twice running, but if this takes
all right I'll fix that by cutting to a close-up of Nane
crying: 'They've been drinking!'
46
Tracking camera follows Mila in close-up. I wanted

one of Nane but she's ill. So is the sun, it succumbs, it
collapses. So do we.
Went to the clinic. Jeannot is better. Go back to the

hotel. Sleep like a log. Wake up at ten o'clock. Find
the others already downstairs. Eat. Projection at the
Majestic at eleven o'clock.
Here's our reward the run-through is wonderful.

Sparkling, soft and clear. Alekan's got just what I
wanted. I'm delighted. It is just as I imagined. First con
juring trick, the necklace. Camera angle. The false
necklace falls out of sight, the real one into sight, and
thus it looks as though it's changed in its fall.
Saturday the 8th, midnight.
Have just got back from the Majestic where I showed

Lebreton yesterday's run-through.
Spent the day waiting for the sun. The morning mist
turned into innumerable little clouds, all joined to
gether like a veil. Clement and I prepared some shots
which need the sun, and some others we had up our
sleeve which don't. At last at midday, the sun came out.
Then a mad race begins of actors, make-up men, tech
nicians, and a chase after fowls and goats. We shoot the
Page 36
departure of the sedan chairs, using Mila's double. And
take the shot of Nane opening the door of her chair to
find it full of chickens which refuse to stay where they
should. So the stage hands had to get to work on putting
the fowls asleep, by catching them, stuffing their heads
47
under their wings and whirling them around at arm's

length. This does it. Then we put them back in the chair,
I give the order to shoot, Nane comes forward, says her
line, opens the door, and cries with annoyance. The
chickens fly out, one through the door, the others
through the windows. Then Mane settles herself inside
and sits down on a hen, saying 'These chairs are filthy'
at which moment two ducks come, out in single file from
beneath her skirts. Am terrified that we shall burst out
laughing, but somehow or other we manage to control
ourselves and take the shot.
Lunch. Take scene of the lackeys waking up. After

that, do the close-ups of Nane which will be used as
cuts in the scene with the sedan chairs* (That is, where
the chair wobbles and is dropped by one of the lackeys,
and she cries out: 'They've been drinking!' after which
the chair is righted and the procession starts off again.
Having this shot I may be able to use the one I spoilt, or
thought at first would be a little fantastic,*)
M. comes all the way from Paris to get a wet sheet

thrown in his face. That's just like film-work, CI6ment
throws it at him from behind the camera. It is, of course,
supposed to be the same sheet that Nane throws, in
the wash-house scene. But that's the only way I can show
the sheet flying towards the audience, and arriving full
in the draper's face. Then we set up the shot of Nane at
the window. Whereupon the sun disappears and we pack
up.
Clinic. Jeannot will probably be able to work again on

Page 37
Tuesday. Mila is more comfortable. Aldo takes the op
portunity to have an operation on a cyst on his face. He
returns masked with gauze and sticking-plaster.
* Which I did.
48
The doctor tells me that if Marais has a special dressing

he can do the horse scene tomorrow. I shall take the
opportunity to re-take the shot where he first sees
Magnificent. As it is, the shot's too short and looks too
far away, missing the expression on his face.
First big write-up in the Monde Illustre. Photograph of

me setting up a scene, on the cover. Looks like a sad
old man looking into the distance. Is this me? I
suppose I must get used to it. I get so lost in my work
that I forget that I exist, and change. So that 1 suddenly
wake up and find myself face to face with a person I
don't know, but my friends do. We're to lunch with
my brother on Sunday.
I suppose the reason why Christian B6rard goes about

dressed in rags and I wear a dirty old hat far too small for
me and never shave, is that we become so absorbed in
what we're doing, that we think we are invisible, and
that others can no more see us than we can see ourselves.
Unfortunately, photographs face us with the reality, but
they don't seem to cure us of thinking that we still look
as we think we are.
But the uglier the years make us the more beautiful

our works should become: reflecting us, brain-children
show a strong family likeness.
Sunday the gth, 11 a.m.
It's just as well it's cloudy for that's some consolation

Page 38
for a 'free' day imprisonment for me. I can never do
too much. Work never exhausts me. It's afterwards
49
that I Fall into the black pit. Thinking of what I've done so
f ar it's not so bad. And no doubt the cutting can cover
up what mistakes I've made in continuity (which worry
Lucienne, my script girl, to death)., Too much care, no
doors left open to chance, and poetry, which is difficult
enough to trap, will certainly be frightened away.
Whereas a little improvisation makes it come a bit nearer.
To find trees where there are none, or something where
it shouldn't be, such as a hat off a head in one shot but on
again in the next, are, as it were, cracks in the wall
through which poetry can penetrate. Those who notice
such spelling mistakes are the real illiterates and can
not be moved by fantasy anyhow. Such details have no
importance,
Yesterday in the sedan-chair scene I used a long

tracking shot. Finally, I deleted it. This film must prove
that it's possible to avoid camera movement and keep to
a fixed frame.
All behind schedule today. We've taken about forty

shots. The owners of Rochecorbon get 80,000 francs for
a fortnight. After which time they get ,ooo francs a day.
But that's nothing to worry about, because the insurance
on our invalids will cover the difference. But a wet day
costs us 100,000 francs.
Sunday evening,
Lunched at my brother's with Josette, Nane, Michel

and the doctor. Bathed in the river. Raspberries!
Page 39
Monday the 10th, midnight,
This morning we took the opening shot of the film:

with the target, bow and arrows. Recorded the sound of
arrows. As always the real sound doesn't come off.
Therefore we must translate it, that is, invent a sound
more exact than the actual sound itself. Clement finds
a switch that will do the trick. The sun won't oblige. So
I announce that I may just as well go to the clinic for as
soon as my back is turned the sun is sure to come out.
Which it did. And I found the shot had been taken when
I got back again. Prepare the scene for tomorrow, of
Jeannot and Josette. We shall do Nane at the window
and the beginning of Josette's flight by moonlight. For
this I made her make up her lips very dark, because we
are using the red filter. The dog that belongs to the manor
refuses to film. He takes up his place all right but leaves
it as soon as the scene begins, then lies down properly as
soon as it's finished. Sumptuous lunch at the manor.
Couldn't sleep but dozed off in the laundry. Clement
woke me up ; I had been dreaming and jumped with both
feet into a reality that is more real than my dream. In
other words, Josette going up to the door of the barn.
Aeroplanes going mad, even Super Fortresses flying over
us. I can do nothing but take the scene silent and add the
sound afterwards. Through with Nane, so she's leaving
tomorrow. I shall use a double for her, showing her
back, in the interior shot. We can give the unit a holiday
for we can't get on without Jeannot, It's five o'clock.
Went back to the clinic where Mila gave us tea. Michel,
clad in a white overall, has been watching Dr Vial's
operations ever since eight o'clock this morning. He des
cribes what he's seen. I feel uneasy giddiness in my legs
and stomach. I disappear. Lie down at the hotel over

come with extraordinary tiredness. Exhausted by
Touraine and the break in the rhythm of our work.
The whole unit wakes me at 8 o'clock and takes me off
to eat at abistrot.
Page 40
Tuesday the 1 1th, J a.m.
Wonder if I can change the scene of the sisters in the

room (they're dressing) with the tavern scene, and do
the latter after the scene with the sisters. If I could cut
from Mila's head, just after the close-up to the shot
of Josette's head, then return to Mila, wearing her
high-heaped wig just when she is finishing tying the
ribbons. And another advantage will be that I shan't have
shots of Avenant and Ludovic following one another.
C16ment is amazed by the way our unit works to

gether. Apparently, the people he worked with before
were a very tough and unpleasant lot. He's leaving us
for three days as he has to shoot the derailment of his
armoured train in Brittany. Weather permitting, it's all
fixed up for Thursday. We'd all go there too but I shall
be too busy at Epinay, and seeing to Jeannot's make-up
as the Beast, which I find less terrifying than I did at the
first test.
I can't praise the technicians and electricians enough

for the way they help us. It's marvellous watching them
work so quickly without a suggestion of bad temper.
They really contribute to the film. They actually like it,
too ; and are always thinking of a thousand and one ways
to please me.
There's no awkwardness between them and the actors.

They each look after their own affairs and in that way
make up a unit.
Have been thinking of what we've done so far here in

Touraine. I must avoid a certain kind of coldness that may
result from the way I work. It would be fatal. One could
treat the film in an entirely different way, and show the
girls, who are washing, pushing each other about and so
Page 41
on ; but instinctively I am after a more simple approach
with gags of a more subtle order Jeannot lifting the
sheet back, the heads appearing, and the necklace
falling .... The other method wouldn't suit the short
lines that I have given the characters. Just as they require
simplicity in their costumes so do they need movements
stripped of unnecessary gesticulation and clutter. It is
worth noticing that, apart from Beauty when she's
dressed as the Princess, none of the women wear jewel
lery.
In the rest of the film (to be done at the studio) I will

direct them in every movement and gesture. For I sus
pect that the rhythm of the film depends on me, more
than in the mobility of the camera, or in the actors' move
ments. On the other hand I may find I can't do very much
to impress my instinctive feelings of rhythm on a mechani
cal art which only comes to realization in the cutting-
room. The main thing is to keep to my own sequence of
facts, and really interest the spectator instead of en
tertaining him.
Tried to make Aramis rear with two people on his

back. He refused. I'm not happy about the way he walks
as a dancer. Like some actresses he can only be photo
graphed from certain angles. I must avoid his legs (except
when he's galloping). Must focus the profile of his head,
which, with its enormous eye and the protruding veins

in his neck makes him look like one of Marly's horses.
I write this, this morning, whilst waiting for the car.

We're not starting till nine o'clock. The new time's a
nuisance. At ten o'clock it's only eight by the sun. At
six o'clock in the evening it is only four o'clock and thus
the unit misses two excellent hours.
The doctor has let Jeannot film the quiet scenes today
Page 42
and tomorrow with a special dressing; we'll do him
leaving the farm on Aramis.
If it's overcast this morning I shall try to squeeze in the

shot with the crossbows ; and do the retake of Avenant
when he sees the horse trot into the courtyard.
I said to Gide last month as we were coming out of

the rue d' A th&nes where they were showing Le Sang
d'un Poete that I couldn't bear to see the film again be
cause it seemed so slow. He replied that I was wrong
and that what I thought was slowness was a gentle rhythm,
a tempo, a rhythm all my own.
No doubt he's right; and it would be foolish to upset

a rhythm that comes from within oneself, and try to
impose an artificial one on it which would not suit it.
(Sleep a little.)
Wednesday the 12th, 8 a.m.
Was too tired to write last night. Did the archery,

Jeannot and Josette scene, Jeannot and Michel leaving on
Aramis which comes before the farce a Tkalienne scene.
Eventually I managed to take what I wanted after waiting
54-
for hours with nerves stretched to breaking point, with

innumerable planes passing over us.
The sky cleared about eleven this morning (nine

o'clock by the sun). The archery set is exactly as I visual
ized it when I wrote the film in the Palais-Royal. The
film will start with a sequence of close-ups: first of all,
the target hit by an arrow, then a shot of the backs of
Avenant and Ludovic, followed by the next arrow landing
in the room frightening the dog. I've added a very big
Page 43
close-up of Jeannot's hands drawing the bow just as
Michel knocks into him. I faked the sound of the arrow
leaving the bow by swishing a stick near the microphone.
Window shot: dressed up one of the dressers to double

for Nane who, with her usual sweetness, came and offered
to get dressed and do the shot herself. After doing a shot
of Jeannot and Michel entering the house, the unit went
to lunch.
The previous evening we had decided that, in case of

bad light, we'd do the Josette-Jeannot scene behind
the house, and had rigged up a sort of hut and got the
gear out on the road so that we could have the cameras on
the top of the wall. But the whole scheme proved too
complicated and we were at it till six o'clock. And just
when Jeannot had got into the scene and was playing
with great intensity, some technical fault, or an aero
plane would come along and interrupt him right in the
middle. But finally we did manage to get two very good
takes : and I always make them develop the bad ones just
in case they are any use. One can never tell when the
camera won't perform some miracle of its own. We
shot the scene that precedes the bit of farce, about eight
o'clock. It came off very well; rather like Goldini or
Moliere. Alekan lit it without the sun, as though it were
55
just setting, throwing long shadows across the scene.

Dr Vial came to watch us work. Cloudless sky this
morning. I shouldn't be surprised if, now we're leaving
tomorrow, they don't get a whole week of lovely
weather, just to spite us.
Wednesday, J o'clock.
Have just looked at the watch that Marais brought me

Page 44
from Switzerland. It's a hundred lire piece. You press
your nail on the edge opposite the V of d'ltalie and the
coin opens, and out comes the flattest watch in the world.
It's seven o'clock, and now nothing of our gypsy camp
remains at Rochecorbon, I was sorry to leave. I had got
used to the place and had become part of it. A golden
wine simply flowed from the old place as we were leaving.
The technicians drank an incredible number of bottles.

Aldo kept trying to get me into a corner. He'd got hold
of a very rare old bottle and wanted to share it with me.
Our last work here was done under a radiant sky without
a single cloud. Looking back, bless the clouds we've had,
for they are the peculiar glory of the Touraine sky. And
even when the sun breaks through, they give the light
the elegance of pearl. Without them everything would
seem too raw, too crude and too easy. Every shot has
been a struggle but I dare to say that I have done what I
set out to do ; and not a single shot has left me miserably
staring at what is instead of what it should have been.
But if there are faults in the work they are mine alone,
and I can't blame anybody else.
First shot of the day was at eleven o'clock: Jeannot and

Michel leaving the barn on Aramis. He reared today,
which he refused to do yesterday. The camera just got it.
The third time the horse came out of the barn it

suddenly started to back in again, kicking Michel off,
and reappeared without him. Last shot. Midday. Avenant,
with Ludovic up behind him, is supposed to gallop to
wards us and then go off to the left after brushing against
the camera. That's when the fun began. Aramis kicked
or bolted. Michel clung madly to Jeannot who, without
saddle or stirrup, looked like breaking his own neck, or
killing us with laughter. He tried again and again but his
falls became so serious (Jeannot's wound is still open)
that I told them to stop. We'll have to use doubles.
One o'clock. Rehearse the scene where Avenant and

Page 45
Ludovic join the sisters in the barn before the horse
comes in.
Third scene. A close-up of Avenant sticking his head

out of the barn when he sees Magnificent arrive. Lunch.
After lunch we shot the scene we'd rehearsed at one
o'clock. Shot the gallop at three o'clock. The stable boy
on the horse wearing Avenant's clothes. Lucile (the
script-girl) doubles for Ludovic. Aramis, without
Michel's weight up, is better; but still doesn't like two
riders. He's up to his tricks. At last we manage to get
him to gallop and by the speed he's going, it's certain that
no one is going to notice who's on his back.
But Marais is not happy about it. He was the same in

Carmen, he wouldn't let a double go on, and insisted on
playing the most dangerous scene. As in the war, so in
filmwork, his courage is the outcome of the astonishing
conviction that he cannot come to any harm. But I am
working from a different theory. In films a trick shot
SJ
is often much more convincing than the real thing, and

besides, it gives reality some relief. The actuality is often
tame by comparison with a stunt scene. And for these
an acrobat is far better than an actor.
4 o'clock.
Only recordings the switch imitating the arrow;

Beauty calling the Beast. (Josette stumbling over a
ploughed field. It looks as though she were running
around a M. Loyal, who is, in fact, none other than
Bouboule armed with a prop. Some local women are
peeping over a distant hedge, following this strange
sight through their opera glasses.) That's the lot here.
We celebrate. Aldo takes a photograph of the unit.
Page 46
We pack. I get into the car without looking back, and
leave.
And drive up that lovely hill which I came down with

Maurette and Moulaert the day I first discovered the
manor. I remember the panic I felt at the thought that
I might not get permission to film there. I even rushed
about to find another place like it ... But there it is,
it was all right and now the job's done. The way time
solves things is an enigma.
As I said to Michel only yesterday; *God wastes cen

turies in an incredible fashion.' As we do minutes.
What I've got to do now at Joinville is to turn that

past into the present. But it will never be the Lecours'
house again, it will always belong to the fairy story.
Thursday the 13th.
Drove off at nine o'clock. Went to the Saint- Gregoire

clinic to pick up Marais. Said goodbye to Mila who has
to spend another week there. A ridiculously small bill,
thanks to Dr Vial's generosity.
Being superstitious, I insisted on stopping at the pub

where we drank some Vouvray when we first came to
Tours. Drink to the success of the film and then continue
on to Brabizon so that I could show Emile the avenue of
fairy-like trees which Poligny brought me to see for
Baron FantBme.
Drive with Josette, Jeannot, Darbon and Moulouk.

Windows wide open. A soft blue air whips our faces. I
have a feeling that Darbon likes working on the film
and enjoys the company. I get an idea for the credits.
I'll use clapper boards (that is the black board we use
to show the number of the take). I'll make a stage-hand
clap the names of the stars and then just show them for a
second, as if they were going on to the set. Lunch at
Page 47
Charmettes. Got very little to eat for 4,000 francs (sic.)
Go on to try and find the avenue with the dead trees.
But can't. So give it up.
Get back to Paris. Palais-Royal. Mountains of letters.

Sleep. Shall go to Epinay tomorrow where Moulaert
should have got the undergrowth cleared and installed my
set.
Friday the 14th, 8.30 p.m.
Been to Epinay where three productions have to be

done together, which will mean we shall have to be care-
59
ful with our current. What with trains and aeroplanes I

shall have to shoot the scene of the sick Beast by the lake
at night.
This lake is, in reality a stinking filthy river draining

the sewers. But, like a dog, once I've found a place, I
get attached to it, and this mundane setting will suit
the anti-pompous style which I am trying to recapture. I
had it in Le Sang d'un Poete. The forest gate was placed
badly. Tried, with Darbon, Alekan and Moulaert, to
find the right place, getting drenched amongst the nettles .
After endless indecision eventually did choose a place
(so difficult to get the background to match the fore
ground). Alekan marks out where his platform will have
to be fixed. It's a pity of course to make Josette and
Jeannot act in this bog. But I'm convinced that Berard
was right when he said that the scene would be much
more moving beside this dirty water and amongst these
weeds, than it would be in a luxurious setting.
Back to Paulve's house. Claude Iberia, who is cured,

was waiting for us there. Projection. The hall in Paulve's
Page 48
house ruins the sound and the light was bad. But in spite
of these yellow and nasal rushes I can tell that the scene
with the sedan chairs has come off. (Some shots are still
missing. As always, they're the best.)
Aldo brought me some excellent stills this morning.

He's going to bring some at eight o'clock to the Palais-
Royal. I'll sort them all out this evening.
Saturday evening, 11 o'clock.
Went with Alekan and Aldo to have a look round

Raray. Got to Senlis at nine o'clock. Every time I see
60
the place it's a new discovery. Aide's absolutely bowled

over. I made him take as many photographs as he could,
so that he can work on the sets. What a pity it is that we
can't shoot on the spot. We must try to persuade the
firm to let us do that. Lunch at Senlis. Go to Epinay.
Not enough stage-hands, cable or lights. A dreary barn
of a place that stinks. The stage-hands are putting up the
door. Darbon arrives. Tell him that it would be crazy to
fix the platform and all the gear of a studio round such
worthless decor. Far better build the set in the studio.
In the end we agree to shoot the door at Epinay, but will
go to Raray for two days where Alekan has agreed to
shoot in any weather, with a miserable supply of electri
city. Darbon consents, and will postpone our starting
again till next week. At Paulve's, showed Claude what
I brought back from Rochecorbon. The labs are getting
the rushes all muddled up. Some shots are missing,
others aren't synchronized. She's going to check the
negative on Monday, when we can have a proper pro
jection so that I can then choose the takes.
fDuring the break I have come to realize that the

rhythm of the film is one of recitation. It is as though I am
Page 49
telling the story and were hidden behind the screen,
saying: 'Once upon a time, such and such a thing
happened.' The characters don't seem to be living a life
of their own, but a life that is being described. Perhaps
that's how it should be in a fairy story f]
Sunday the l6th, J p.m.
Conference at Paulve's house with Alekan, Moulaert

and myself. Run through the shots we took at Raray
61
again. Decide the heights of the sets, and Josette's

dresses. If the light isn't too good, I'll shoot in a sort
of twilight which will merely mean changing the time
Josette is supposed to take her meal. If it's sunny I'll
shoot it as moonlight. Alekan suggests that he uses the
red powder which, with a sort of mobile magnesium
flare, gives the effect of night. I'll take Marcel Andr6
along to do the bit where he shouts; "Hulloa, is anybody
there?' which is answered by the echo.
Tuesday the 1 8th,
Awful night. These days doing nothing leave me in a

sort of vacuum. Nothing but boring meetings, doctors
and the barber. Sleep badly. And the film unwinds in my
head. I cut it, alter the lines, add some, suppress others.
And do all that without the material, because my cutter
is trying to put it in order, and has got some of the shots
which I haven't even seen.
The cast keep phoning me. They're at a loose end too.

Clement has shot his derailment in Brittany. He'll be
back Wednesday. I think I'll cut the scene of the sedan
Page 50
chairs arriving at the Duchess's house. The sisters' return
will be enough. It would have slowed up the action too
much. I phone and tell Emile this. It will be good news
for the firm, one exterior less certainly is something.
Tuesday evening, 1 1 o'clock.
Spent the day at Paulve's, cutting with Claude and

lucile. They're trying to get some order out of the in-
62
credible mix-up that was made of our work in the

developing.
At B's this evening Castillo spoke to me about

Josette's neglige. Her costume's a bit of a problem. It
mustn't be dated. It mustn't be Greek, or conspicuous as
a dress. I need something very grand yet very simple;
very normal, yet very free; that's what I want. It mustn't
look like a dress, yet has to be one.
Wednesday the igth, 11 p.m.
Not a good day. Berard, just back from London,

lunched with us. Afterwards Emile Darbon, Claude
Iberia, Clement come and pick me up in the car and we
drive out to Joinville. At Saint-Maurice, chaos begins.
Projection over, go on the stage where the workmen
are building the Beast's stables.
Berard is infuriated by the clumsy way his sketches

have been realized. He talks and talks, draws, corrects,
and soon everything is turned upside down and trans
formed by his fantastic talent.
Page 51
Run through the incomplete sequence of the sheets
for him in a little projection room which happened to be
free. (Hopeless projection, everything vibrating and
yellow.) He thought my camera angles were a bit con
ventional. Perhaps that's because he doesn't realize that
this sequence doesn't open the film but follows the bizarre
sequence at the Beast's Castle. I needed the quiet sheet
scene as relief. Whilst waiting for the promised reel we
talked to Renee Saint-Cyr and Claude Dauphin, both
ready to go on in Cyrano.
63
Marais has only seen two mediocre shots, and he's

got to go off now and see the doctor. The projection
room wasn't free till 6.30 and he's already gone.
Marais's scene excellent. Get home at eight o'clock and
dine alone. Shall see all the rushes on Friday with
Iberia, when we'll be able to choose the best. She'll
then start cutting. We go to Senlis on Sunday. The work
men leave Paris with all the gear tomorrow.
Thursday the 2Oth } 8 a.m.
I suppose it's because I'm trying to keep the camera

fixed and the shots simple, that makes Berard say my
angles are flat. They're certainly not spectacular, but
I dare say when it's cut, overlapped and interspersed with
odd studio shots, these Touraine exteriors will be all
right. But it certainly would be better if Alekan had an
assistant so that he himself were free to choose the angles,
and not have to do all the lighting and actual shooting
himself.
It is all this which tends to tie him down. Only a thread

distinguishes Ver Meer from his contemporaries.
Page 52
Thursday evening , 11 o'clock*
The doctor's diagnosis of Jeannot isn't too good. It's

very worrying, seeing him look so tired, playing the
Beast with all that heavy make-up of hair and glue. But
he never complains. I remember his going on in Les
Parents Terribles with acute otitis. Blood spurted from
his nostrils. The audience in the front row threw hand
kerchiefs up to him. Worrying about the invalids, I've
lost all pleasure in the work. Mila will be leaving the
Clinic at Tours this week. Nane has to have another
operation on her stomach as soon as the film is finished.
As for me . . .
Packed up this afternoon ready to go to Senlis. Smoke

machines, red powder, magnesium torches, and a thou
sand mechanical bits and pieces, none of which I dare
forget. Everybody who works on a film knows the awful
and implacable responsibility which settles on a director
and forces him to hide his own doubts and overcome his
own weaknesses. The slightest sign of indecision on his
part demoralizes his unit. I suppose that's why, in the
long run, film directors, knowing that they must appear
sure of themselves, Ibecome so overbearing. Can't get
hold of a stag or a doe. At last hope to have all the work
we did in Touraine by Saturday. And will then choose the
shots with Iberia and Clement.
Berard is going to supervise the decor at Joinville.
Friday the 21st, evening.
Spent the day running between the Company's Office

and Clement's flat. Deciding the angles of the Raray
shots and settling the problem of how to fake the final
scene.
Page 53
The bizarre angles at Raray force themselves on you,

Raray and the Beast are one; it's the strangest park in
France. For the stunt shots, we'll truck the camera
backwards and forwards on a slope ; cut to a profile shot
and do the whole thing 'with a background of trans
parent clouds. Clement and Alekan are to go up in an
English aeroplane the day after tomorrow and shoot the
clouds and the receding earth. To get the shot of the
earth falling away, they'll have to do a stiff dive in
reverse.
Saturday the 22nd } J o'clock.
Saw Paulve this morning. He's delighted with the

work, and already wants me to do another film next
year with the same unit. Shut myself up in the projection
room choosing the takes with Iberia, Clement and
Alekan. Still can't find the one of the horse rearing, and
there's no trace of it on the labels. Iberia's assistant is
going to Saint-Maurice on Monday morning to hunt
through the material there. Awful if this fine shot were
lost. Lunch near the office. Meet Berard afterwards who's
just come back from Saint-Maurice. He doesn't seem
pleased with the way his decor's being handled. It's a
pity that Moulaert has to work on two films at once.
Ours really requires his full time. A tooth is giving me
great pain. See a run-through of the derailment in
Brittany. Twelve takes, four of which are of a tragic in
tensity. Immediately afterwards I run off to the dentist
who tells me I've got an abcess coming. He opened up
the tooth and told me how to treat it. Now I've a rash
66
on my fingers and my cheeks are inflamed. 'To make bad
Page 54
blood. To make spleen.' That is exactly what's happened;
(Tm paying now for five years of bad blood, frustration
and spleen. Jeanne t has the same kind of rash on his hip.
It's raining. Tomorrow we leave for Senlis.
Sunday evening the 23rd, 8 o'clock.
Left Paris at .30 with Josette, Jeannot and Emile

Darbon. Something fell out of the car as we were going
along. It was the carburettor. Hunt for it. Eventually
find it and start again.
Darbon informs us that we shall have to live in an

abandoned chateau. Rather than do that I stop at the
Grand Cerf, and manage to find some rooms there which
will have to do. Dump the suitcases, and go on to Raray
under a threatening sky heavy with towns of slate,
simmering with lakes of sulphur and pink forests. The
walls of Raray look sublime under this sky. It's raining.
The gear isn't fixed in the right place. I make a sketch
which Darbon will send this evening to the workmen,
who are living at Verberie.
Lady Diana Duff Cooper phoned this morning wanting

me to dine at Chantilly. I phone the Grand Cerf to say
it is impossible for me to leave work.
The hotel is full of the Cyrano cast, all complaining

of the weather. My chauffeur tells me that Clement and
Alekan weren't able to get the shot of the clouds this
morning. Apparently the camera jammed, no doubt due
to the vibration of the aeroplane. They'll have to try
again.
67
Page 55
After dinner.
Interminable dinner. This hotel is alive with memories

for we camped here when we did Baron FantBmel Every
morning a car used to take us through the rain to
Voillet-le-Duc, where, in a courtyard full of women
extras wearing the most elaborate dresses, sitting about
on the edge of wells, we waited for the sun* A freezing
draught, enough to kill, swept through the arches.
We're to be called at six o'clock tomorrow. Jeannot's
make-up takes three hours (quite apart from his hands).
This evening; the sky is overcast and the clouds tragic. A
cold moon. It is autumn. I can see that the work isn't
going to be too pleasant.
Monday the 24th, 6 o'clock.
Terrible night. My face and right hand itch. Gums.

Eyes. Rain. And the misery of these germs preventing me
from getting on with my work.
Monday, 11 o'clock.
Back from Senlis. Equinox. Annoying rain. We left

at 7.30. Found Rogelys in an inn a few kilometres out
side Raray. Discovered the others eight kilometres
further on, huddled together in another thieves' kitchen
68
(looked as if it were out of a novel by Simenon). Took

Clement, his wife and Alekan back to Senlis. Darbon
goes off to look for Marais and Josette who stayed at
the first inn. Eventually we lunch with the rest of the
unit.
Page 56
M. de Labedoyere says: ( Hunters know that it rains
at the Equinox for forty-eight hours. But it's taken me
ten years to realize it. And I always get excited.'
Back at the hotel Grand Cerf. Shall seize the op

portunity to settle the three big stunts which come at
the end of the film. Alekan and Clement are both terri
bly upset because of their failure yesterday. The clouds
were splendid. The pilot perfect. The plane's vibration
upset the camera ; it jammed, they could do nothing.
But to make up for this, they found a place in the

forest which is just right for the Merchant and Beauty to
ride through on Magnificent. Darbon urges us to shoot
the exteriors as soon as we get the chance. We will, on
the first fine day we get. The weather seemed to be
making for a change. Now it's raining twice as hard.
6 o'clock.
Went on location hoping to do the takes of Marcel

Andre who, since he's playing at the Theatre de la
Michodiere, is only free on Monday evenings. First of
all it was raining, then it stopped, then it poured again.
In between two downpours the sky suddenly stabbed the
terrace, which is edged with stone bloodhounds, with
the most terrible lightning. But even so, one can't photo-
graph lightning unless one has electricity of one's own.

And unfortunately, Darbon gave the electricians the day
off this morning and they won't be here until seven
o'clock tomorrow morning. Make the best of it by
spending the day plotting angles. In this way, a day lost is
often a day gained; for it means we shall now know
exactly what we're after. Go home mad with toothache,
beard sore, fingers itching and eyes aching. But I wouldn't
notice any of these miseries if we were working hard
enough.
Page 57
11 o'clock.
The doctor came to give Jean Marais a blood test.

It looks as if another carbuncle is coming up near his
ear, Marais, in spite of his courage, is visibly shaken
by this appalling bad luck. The doctor prescribes a
remedy to sooth my hand. Unfortunately, the ointment
which he told me to get for my face is unobtainable. So
I must go on enduring this absurd torture. It's raining,
raining. Will it be raining tomorrow? Marcel Andre
will have to go back anyhow, so we must shoot his two
scenes whatever it's like.
Tuesday the 2$th.
Before last night's torture, Ravillac said: Tomorrow

will be rough going.' It certainly has been. Rain. We
leave. Reach Raray in a chaos of electrical installation,
70
lost in a mystery of cables and amperages. It's terribly

cold. Dress the artists in the chateau's great hall, in the
middle of which a ping-pong table has been set up.
Jacques Lebreton, the sound chief, and the children are
having a game. Then they fix a table up here out of planks
and we all devour a disgusting meal. Shoot Marcel
Andre's scene on the wall with the stone hounds behind
him. Then a take of him at the bottom, standing between
the vase and the plaster. After that, record his cry and
the echo, thrown between the park gate and the front of
the chateau. Marcel changes, takes off his make-up, has
lunch, and then Darbon drives him back to Paris.
After lunch, at which Jeaimot, made up as a ferocious

beast, eats only biscuits and butter, we rehearse the wall
Page 58
of busts scene. Rain. Run for it. Umbrellas. The
Labedoy&re family and friends come to see us and take
snaps of us all. When Antoine de Labedoyere heard that
we were on a diet, he invited Marais and me to lunch
tomorrow and the next day.
It's clearing. Clouds moving quickly. The sun comes

out then goes in again. So long as it doesn't rain any more,
it's ideal weather (apart from the cold) to shoot this
sequence.
We manage, at last, to tackle it; in spite of great diffi

culties with the sound. For first of all, we were inter
rupted by a light van, then a cow, a dog, and finally, a
crying child.
Marais is visibly distressed by his make-up. He's

revolted by his own appearance. And trying to control
his feelings he has about him a quiet tension, which
shows through his normal interpretation of the part.
The workmen from the generating plant threaten to

leave at six o'clock. Manage to persuade them to stay till
6.30. Take three shots. Two more will have completed

the scene. The light's no longer good enough. The
arcades no longer open on to trees but to a hole of dark
ness. We light smoke flares. Clouds form behind the
arcade where Marais stands silhouetted. Our shots are
strange. Alekan is worried because the lights are too
weak. As for me, I'm delighted with angles and the
liberties we've taken with the rules of film-making.
Perhaps I shan't be so pleased when I see it. I'm in agony
with my teeth, ear and shoulder. My fingers are throb
bing. My cheeks burning. I am shivering. Go back to the
hotel and drink hot tea,
Josette and Jeannot have just left my room. Have been

talking to them a long time and have run through to
morrow's scene with them.
Page 59
Wednesday the 26th, J a.m.
Pain all night. No sleep. My face is being devoured by

some unknown germ, and my gums eaten into by some
other. Have the sensation of inevitable disaster. Consider
dashing off to the dentist and the doctor in Paulv6's car.
He should be coming to lunch at Raray.
This morning I decide to try and hold out until the

end of the takes. But it rains. And we've still got two of
yesterday's schedule to do, and besides that, all the
stag scene. It will be hopeless if it goes on raining. Now
it's even worse. The electricians can't fix the lamps.
Marais and Josette are already on the set. I'll join them at
nine o'clock.
72
11 p.m.
My face is only a shell of rashes, ravages and itches.

It'll take me all my strength to forget this task, and go on
living underneath it. Rained this morning, but the
barometer was up. Built the scaffolding etc. for the
cameras whilst the artists were making up and changing.
At eleven o'clock we'll do the two shots which we
missed yesterday. The light was very difficult owing to the
smoke machines. Marais won't use a double. And does
the jump from the terrace with the help of a spring
board. After which we remember that he'd carried his
hat in his right hand yesterday, whilst today he hasn't
got one at all.
Marais and I lunched at Madame de Labedoyere. A

strange meal. I sat on the right of the old lady; she was
dressed all in black, whilst Marais, on her left, was still
made up as the Beast. I dare say her little girls will always
Page 60
remember it. After lunch I returned to the wall of busts
(Paulve had already eaten in our communal dining-
room).
The two opening shots of the next scene are very

tricky. I'd like to introduce the scene with a shot of the
stone and wood statue and finish it on the real stag. But
the statue is too high up on the wall, and the cornice is
so narrow. Josette climbs up. She's giddy but doesn't
complain. She is very brave. We erect a sort of scaffold
opposite where the camera-man and his assistant roost
beside their machine.
One of the advantages of making films is that you can

mix, muddle up and use your material just as it suits you.
For instance, this bit of wall will turn out like part of die
balustrades which go round the cMteau moat. Our last
73
take of the evening was their walk scene through the

balustrades. And it would have been absolutely perfect if
some village child hadn't spoilt it all by laughing in the
middle. The light, acting, movements, smoking machine,
even the tops of the trees crowned by the sun, all collabo
rated for once. But in one second it was ruined. We can
never hope to have such luck again. But no use getting
excited or crying about it; and no point in getting in
volved in that nightmare of running after or trying to
recapture those precise conditions which were only pro
duced, in the first instance, by chance. (If one did, it
would only make the film seem laboured.)
Thursday the 2Jth, 1 1 p.m.
The Labedoyere family have come to the conclusion

that we are not a gang of hooligans. The film interests
them and they're extremely hospitable. Josette, Jeannot,
Page 61
Darbon and I lunched with Antoine de Labedoyere this
morning.
It threatens to be too fine. The clouds tore themselves

into two to reveal a blue sky. Whereas, of course, the
sequence we are doing now needs a greyish half-light.
But it had changed too quickly to settle. We are soon
back again in the sombre light that suits the Beast's park.
Yesterday I cut from the top of the wall to the edge of

the balustrade. And this morning I'll cut from the edge
of the balustrade to the arch of the terrace of statues,
that opens on to the trees. Heaven knows how I shall
make it fit together. But I couldn't care less.
74
After the arch I'll pass in and do the stairway, to the

right of where the Beast sees the fleeing stag. Which, by
the way, has just arrived in a little lorry. Here he is,
lying down, tethered, with all his fabulous elegance and
revolt.
I shot the close-up of Jeannot scenting the stag.
Clement, hidden behind the Beast's collar, animates

his ears by moving them with a forked twig. They prick.
The effect is most striking.
The unit goes to lunch. Afterwards do the close-up

of the Beast's eyes. Am shown a rush of the close-up of
the ears. Find it too diffused and vague. Decide to do
it again which puts us behind schedule.
Escoffier confesses that he's forgotten the pearl

necklace for Josette's silver dress. My hands and face are
causing me great pain too much for me. I get angry.
Escoffier is nearly in tears. I go on and do the end of the
scene where Josette pulls the Beast's sleeve, as he comes
down the steps ; he takes his gloved fist from his face, she
Page 62
touches the glove with her finger and together they come
down the rest of the steps, as the camera trucks back at
full speed. Light the smokes and red powder. This makes
a shadow which we control by artificial light. In vivid
contrast, the sky above is pale blue, flecked with pink
clouds. The red powder illuminates the leaves, the pom
pous smoke unfurls. I ask for action. But, it's no use.
If it isn't a guinea-fowl cackling, it's a tractor passing on
the road, or a peasant bellowing at his cows. I get worked
up, and out of nine takes only get two good ones. One
trembles to think of the amount of sheer luck required
before the director, the cameraman, artists and sound
can all be satisfied together.
Dull sky. Trees look black. I'd like to take the shots of
IS
the stag. Two toughs have all their time cut out trying to
hold him on the lawn in front of the chateau. But in spite
of their efforts, he rolls over and breaks loose, stricken
with terror. I give it up. Pll have to take this shot in the
Zoo. Which leaves us tomorrow morning for the shot
of Josette's scene, transparent in her blue dress, running
to look for the Beast. If possible, I'd like to do another
shot of Josette in the park. Whatever light we get to
morrow morning will determine the style of the whole
scene at the edge of the lake.
But whatever it is, I shan't take indifferent pictures

back from this fantastic place. They may be good, they may
be bad, but they won't be mediocre. We've worked like
demons.
Friday the 28th, 8 a.m.
Now my whole face is breaking out in a rash. I'm

covered with sores, scabs and, on top of it all, some acid
Page 63
serum runs through my system and tears my nerves.
I suppose I shall finish the exteriors this morning. Darbon
offers to take me back to Paris at eleven. But what shall
I do there? Just suffer in my room. R. can't see me until
7.30. The dentist not till six o'clock. Better hang on
till we finish here and go back with the others. Jeannot's
boil looks angry. He was as pale as death when they took
his mask off yesterday. The glue stops his circulation.
It's all a cruel struggle for the film. I wonder if I ought to
put a stop to it. I'll take Jeannot to R. at 7.30. Have
phoned Paul.
76
Before I finish with the hunting dogs terrace at Raray

I must stop and thank my unit from the bottom of my
heart. They're all so helpful and friendly. It's the same
with the lowest-paid stage-hand. Not one of them has
sulked or lost his temper in spite of all this shifting
around of wires, cameras and gear from one place to
another, or got exasperated with my orders which must
often seem sheer caprice. Yet I'm only greeted with
smiles. Clement understands my style so well that he
could direct the scenes for me. And Alekan knows in
advance the kind of strangeness that I'm after. Darbon
puts up with my tantrums and retakes ; whilst Aldo, our
stills camera-man, whose job always brings him in at the
last moment, just when the actors are tired and wanting
to get off the set, manages, in those moments, to put on
such an act of bad temper that the cast are so amused
that he gets them to pose without knowing it, and thus
by guile, extracts the last precious drop from the
squeezed lemon. The make-up men and the dressers
know their jobs ; whilst Lucile and Escoffier carry their
tiny mistakes as if they were a cross. In short, the unit
is an extension of myself. At last I have realized the dream
of being not just one person but many.
But for all that, I'd be mad if I forgot that bad luck
has always run through my life, and that it always has
Page 64
been and always will be, a sheer struggle. All striving
and effort for even the simplest things. I'd better expect
difficulties under a new disguise. I must remember this,
and overcome them somehow.
Yes, now they're in the disguise of germs. But I can

recognize them. They don't deceive me. I will put up
with this pain until it becomes unbearable, but if it
does it will be too bad. One can't alter a date.
P 77
If Marais can't go on filming it will be hopeless. But

if he can and I'm too ill, I shall direct from a distance
through Clement whom I'm sure I can trust.
4 o'clock.
Shoot in the rain without any lights, using torches,

magnesium and English smoke-flares. Raray is now in
the can. I've simply thrown myself against the appalling
conditions there, and tried, whatever the cost, to cap
ture that unconscious beauty which I like so much.
Now all the technicians are wandering about with

geese, rabbits and vegetables. It is all parcels, good-byes,
baskets and string. Josette, wearing her silver dress,
holds a parasol, like Negus, as she steps over a bed of
nettles.
Say good-bye to the Labedoyeres, Marais, Darbon and

Madame Clement go off in the car. Now it's my turn
to disappear and leave the terrace of hunting dogs to their
shadows and solitude. My face is burning, swelling,
itching. I'm writing these lines at the hotel. Now I strap
my bag and go.
Page 65
Saturday the 29th.
Have seen Dr R. He isn't very happy about my face.

He's more optimistic about Jean Marais. Terrible night.
I'm really at the end of my tether. Darbon, Berard,
Alekan and Clement came to fetch me this morning.
Went to Saint-Maurice. The decor's certainly odd but

not in the way that most of them think it. 'That/ said
Berard, 'looks like Montboron.' We made them set
the trees and gates up. The Merchant's hall is being built
on a neighbouring stage. Berard is afraid that it is too
much in the style of an inn. And wants it very simply
furnished. The decor helps to set the right feeling. I try
to recapture the atmosphere of these rooms, all the time
remembering the exteriors we took at Rochecorbon.
Little by little, my dream takes on a form and becomes
fixed without losing its dream-like quality. Things
arrive from a thousand different places all at once. And
by some sort of mysterious magnetism fall into their
right positions. Go back to the Palais-Royal for lunch,
but it's harder to bear the pain there than at work. Shall
go to Epinay at three, though through lack of current we
can't start shooting till Wednesday. We go to Joinville on
Monday morning.
Sunday.
Spent the day with doctors and Clement. Went over

tomorrow's work: two general shots of the sets, one at
night (the Merchant's arrival) the other in the morning
(the Merchant leaving, and the Beast's face). Have
scrapped the gates. Will use branches instead and make
them part, showing the Beast's glaring eyes through them.
Dined with Berard and discussed the way the costumes
should be worn. He'd prefer it if the Beast didn't have
those enormous sleeves, but I'll keep them because I
Page 66
79
want the Beast to look as big as possible. But I'll take

them off in the great hall scene. I'm writing this waiting
for the car. It's half past eight. We will have from nine
to midday to get ready and then shoot till eight. My
forehead and eyes are now affected. R. says that my chin
should respond to his treatment, but that I should go to
a skin specialist for the rest. But how can I find the time
to see all these doctors? Marais's boil is going on well. R.
hopes that it will subside in five days. But meanwhile he
must go on working under his mask. Doctors are costing
us a fortune.
Monday, October Ist^ 11 p.m.
The lower part of my face isn't so bad this morning,

but my forehead is inflamed and itches. Was at Saint-
Maurice at nine. A veritable whirl of intelligent ants
were swarming over the decor, and putting it just so.
Gradually ivy, brambles and grass invaded the sets,
making them look like ruins. Moss and dead leaves cover
the ground. Cameras fly up to their hidden perches. A
huge awning enlarges the studios right to the street wall.
The camera will truck back there. The studio door has
been taken off its hinges to reveal an avenue of trees.
Branches Rave been fixed up which open and close as if
by magic. The chateau is wrapped in shadows, thanks to
the smoke machines. First shot: of the stone cornices
with the moon on them. The Merchant comes in through
a fog, which the ventilators clear. The branches draw
aside, he goes in. Then the branches close behind him.
80
Endless preparation. Alekan complaining that he

Page 67
hasn't enough arcs; Darbon sulking; Clement unwell
he's in for a bout of J flu. We're rescued by Tiquet;
the cameraman, who has some new ideas. He arrived this
morning. They make Jean Marais up it always takes
four hours because even his hands, or rather claws, have
to be done.
About six o'clock we get around to shooting Marcel

Andre leaving on Magnificent, with Marais parting the
branches (close-up) and watching him ride away. We
intended to take this close-up of Marais with only his
eyes lit, by reflecting an arc-lamp on to them. But there
isn't time. We'll have to keep this effect for some other
occasion.
Saw the first rushes of the stuff we shot at Raray, at

1.30. I think they are beautiful, and Marais's voice struck
me as most impressive. It's the voice of an invalid, of a
beast in pain. Will see the rest tomorrow evening. Left
at nine, dined at home, and went straight to bed.
Tuesday evening, Oct. 2nd, 1O o'clock.
Got to the studio at midday. They're fixing the camera

rails up for the Merchant shot. Lunch: after which I did
the stable, and the shot of the frightened Merchant go
ing up the steps. That finishes with Marcel Andre here.
Now for the really difficult stuff: Josette and Jeannot.
Moonlight. I'm determined to do six shots in spite of
Alekan being so slow, and the arcs which keep on fusing.
Doing the bit where the Beast carries Beauty, Jeannot
81
kept tripping over his own sleeves, or treading on

Josette's cape, and couldn't walk at all. Being super
stitious I hide myself, for he's more likely to manage it
if I'm not about with my junk. And he did too. Shift the
Page 68
camera to the top of the stairs now, and do the shot of
the Beast carrying Beauty , who is tattooed by the shadows
of the leaves in the moonlight.
At 7.30 run through all of the Raray stuff. It depresses

me beyond words. The negative had been scratched in the
labs. I sweat blood at the sight of every picture. But
luckily the shots I liked best aren't scratched. But even
so, one can see faint marks on them. This is due to an
accident in the labs. But they won't admit it, and say
it's due to bad stock. But the answer is that the rushes
we saw the day before yesterday were neither scratched
nor marked.
The general effect is beautiful but too flat and grey.

Which makes the chateau look like a stage-set. I begged
Alekan to be careful and not over-light, but just pick
out certain angles in relief. But cameramen are all alike.
They're always afraid of the new but often admirable idea.
But for all that, I didn't leave the projection room in
complete despair, for I see that I can still make sen
sational montage out of it.
Wednesday, 8 a.m.
Tackled Epinay this morning (the door). The Mer

chant's first sight of the Beast. And the scene in the hall.
Brilliant weather for it, which should help. Am going
82
to do stuff with Marcel Andre as Jeannot's resting. His*

boil's enormous. It looks as if he won't be able to go on
playing Avenant in which case it will be the insurance
company that's called!
Page 69
Wednesday evening, 6 o'clock.
Berard and I reached Epinay at nine. Found the studio

exactly as it was a fortnight ago. It's just nobody's busi
ness what sort of jobs the technicians have to tackle here
now. But in two hours these intelligent ants have painted
the door, built the pyramids, cut the grass, suppressed
some trees and created others, besides fixing up the over
head gear for the cameras, and slinging them up. At four
o'clock we're still at it; but even now, the carcass
hasn't arrived. Apparently there's a strike at the market.
At six o'clock I told everybody they could go and
pointed out that this was the firm's funeral they would
have to pay for a wasted day. Begin again tomorrow
morning.
When Paulve was having lunch with us, he exclaimed

'What! haven't you done any shots this morning?' I
wonder what he'll have to say this evening?
A projection with Iberia at six; realize what a com

plete disaster the Raray stuff is. I'll have to make do with
what I can't do without, but by prodigious cutting I'll
try and scrap the worst of it. Fortunately, the things I
liked best have turned out all right. Was pleased with
yesterday's rushes, but after the fiasco at Raray I no
longer dare flatter myself with hope. Have found the
83
beginning of the rose scene. As the Merchant steps for

ward, the rose lights up. He looks at it. And the rose
illuminates everything: the gate, the trees, etc. . . This
means I shall be able to cut from the grey scene to the
bright scene without any hitch.
Thursday morning f 8 o'clock.
Page 70
Paulve gave lunch yesterday at the bistrot in Epinay
for the important members of his board of directors
and the Press. Mounier said to me: 'We're counting on
your work to re-establish French films/ To which I
replied: It's funny that I, who am attacked on every side
in France, should, at the same time, be looked to to save
the prestige of a country which can apparently do nothing
but call me names. I'm doing my best to make a film that
will please me, and a few people I like. More than that,
I can't promise.'
Film people are charming. Everybody, down to the

lowest stage-hand, calls me * General' it's an old gag of
theirs. And though they *thee' and 'thou' me, that
familiarity doesn't mean they don't respect my orders
down to the minutest detail. An outsider might say that
the studio looked chaotic but this chaos soon disappears.
All the gear gets fixed, trees, flower-beds, sets, and even
the invisible strings to open the door, gravitate to their
right positions.
But yesterday, for the first time, an all-essential prop

wasn't to hand: the dead deer. The director for exteriors,
who was responsible for obtaining this, didn't even dare
84
show his face again. I waited in the street outside the

studio. His only excuse was the strike down at the market.
But that's no excuse; in the film world one asks for
something and gets it, no matter what. There'll he
trouble if I don't get my dead deer this morning.
A film is a monument but built neither in the present,

past or future.
Thursday evening, 1 1 o'clock.
Page 71
My head's about bursting after the most killing day.
Beginning with a hunt through the market for the missing
dead deer. Can't find it anywhere. Then to Epinay.
Where the current goes off. We hang about. Drizzle.
Then eventually Darbon turns up, bringing me some
dead dogs, which stink so horribly I can't use them. I
beer Clement to take them back to the knackers and have
them skinned. The current's still off. Lunch. Current

comes on again. The rose scene's at last ready. Clement
comes back and is sick after what he's seen at the knackers.
Then somebody tells me that the dead deer has at last
arrived. So I decide to do the door scene instead. Phone
the power station and am told there's no hope of any
current today. That finishes it. Drag around and leave
at five. The projection room at Paulve's is fixed up. Tear
off there to see the day before yesterday's rushes. A dim
projection but light enough for me to see the mistakes
I've made. Marais's quite right. I ought to do a close-up
of Josette looking frightened, to come after the shot
where Avenant says : 'Where are you going?' The negative
is bad. Can't see any trace of the powerful arcs we've

used. The staircase which Josette comes down is too
much to the left of the picture. I went off to R. in despair
of ever finding perfection that can survive its difficulties.
It's always just beyond one's reach. Sometimes one can
almost touch it. But something is lacking. Perhaps with
this soft stock we'd better triple the lights and shoot
dark. If I go on struggling I shall end up by finding my
dream again but at the cost of what exhaustion !
I go to bed with my forehead burning with the rash,

completely done in.
Friday, Oct. 5*i, 8 a.m.

Page 72
Hardly slept a wink. The film goes round and round in

my mind, facing me with all its faults. Alekan hasn't
enough confidence. He keeps hesitating and won't take
a bold enough line. The result is a certain softness in his
work which I must try to correct. It's all too 'beautiful' .
Whereas I wanted something harsh with more contrast
and relief in it. I'll keep at him till he gets it.
p.m.
Still struggling. Not a cloud in the sky this morning

when I reached Epinay and everybody looked as though
it was going on all right. The ventilator is fixed up. Just
started to shoot the rose scene. Four shots, including the
86
one of the dead deer. I opened its throat myself and

poured the haemoglobin down. Some beautiful patches
of sunlight through the leaves. Stopped for lunch at
midday. Started again at 1.30, at which rate I ought to
get my nine shots in the can I spoke too soon: the
current's just gone off again. Phoned the power station
but can't get any sense out of them, except the fact
that the breakdown will probably last till six o'clock.
So drive the unit over to Saint-Maurice. I wanted to
see the last batch of rushes again and stop them demolish
ing the whole of the old decor, and supervise their new
work. Told Alekan off after the run through. His mania
for plotting his shots yet at the same time making them
appear diffuse, revolts me. It's all too 'artistic'. And not
within a mile of that documentary style that I wanted
from him.
It's all a matter of patience. But one must wait. Just

wait. Wait for the car that's supposed to be coming to
fetch you. Wait till the lights are fixed. Wait till the
camera's ready. Wait whilst branches are nailed to
Page 73
their supports. Wait. Wait till its developed. Wait for
the sound track to be married to the picture. Wait till
the projection room's free. Then just wait a bit longer
whilst the projectionist changes the lamps which have
just fused. Wait. Wait. Wait.
This way our patience's proved, and our nerves tried.

Nerves twisting this way, then that way. I shall start out
tomorrow morning at 8.30, not even knowing whether
the current will be on or not. They never warn us but
just cut it off when it suits them and ruins us. And they
don't give a damn. We used to say: 'It's the Germans.'
But now who's to blame for this malice, which sabo
tages every job in France till all is chaos ?
87
An enormous photograph of Jearmot as the Beast

appears on the first page of Samedi Soir. The other
photographs are undistinguished and the article * over-
picturesque' and by no means accurate. An article by
me and a page by Berard appear in the Images de France.
We are getting 'phone calls from all over the place.
The film is exciting considerable curiosity.
Saturday the 6th, 9 p.m.
Thanks to my brain-wave of sending for Josette we've

made up our schedule. Marcel Andre is now being shot
against the light for the scene where the Beast first shows
himself, and a terrible gust of wind arises. This terrible
wind is of course conveniently provided by a wind
machine, in front of which I stand throwing handfuls
of dead leaves. The wind snatches Marcel's hat off as
though the Beast himself were obliging him to stand at
the ready. Marcel was through at one o'clock. I'll do the
Raray scene after lunch : Beauty, walking alone in the
park, comes upon the Beast whom she surprises drink
Page 74
ing. I intended to light this scene with magnesium flares
but couldn't get any more, and the red powder burns too
quickly. So I used arcs and a few lamps. Smoke drifts
around. Josette goes towards the garden door. She hears
a lapping noise. She goes to open it. I cut. Close-up. She
half-opens the door. An arc strikes her face. She looks.
Then she shuts the door and turns away. I cut. Then
finish with her walking up the path, musing, coming
towards the camera till her face almost touches it.
88
Michel de Brunhof has come to watch us and chose some

of Aldo's stills for Vogue.
There's going to be no current on Monday. So we'll

work tomorrow, Sunday.
Sunday the Jth f 8 a.m.
The car came for Marais at 6.45;. His make-up (I must

show his hands today) will take four hours. Am writing
these few lines waiting for the car that's due here at the
Palais-Royal at 8.30. Have just written the preface for
poor Georgette Leblanc's book La Machine a Courage.
Yes, certainly this woman was an absolute dynamo of
courage. I must imitate her.
In spite of being ravaged with rash, erupted with

shingles and all sorts of pains, I manage to persist some
how and continue. And this desperation suits me. It
certainly doesn't stop me. My work is that of an
archaeologist. The film exists, (pre-exists). And I have
to unearth it from the shadow where it sleeps, with a
pick and shovel. Sometimes I get frantic and dig too
quickly and then only disturb it, but what fragments
are left intact shine with the beauty of marble.
When you think of the different things that have to

Page 75
happen, and all at the same moment, if a shot is to be a
success, you can hardly imagine it'll ever occur. But when
it does, even prodigious good luck is not enough. For
it can all be ruined by rotten machines. For example,
if the electricity is cut when the negative is in the
89
developing tank, the whole work is ruined . You are never

safe. You must keep your fingers for ever crossed. And
a complete retake costs a fortune, when the sets are
demolished; and, what's worse, when the spirit is
burnt out. I'm well aware that great things are expected
from this film. And must be careful that this doesn't put
me off. Must try and work as I did on Sang du Tofae, no
body then took any notice of us. That's the way: not be
self-conscious.
Waiting for the car yesterday, I wrote the article

which Brunhof wanted for Vogue on the English Am
bassadress. She wanted me to write it. She's another
dynamo of courage, with her large blue eyes a blue as
vivid as scarlet. She stands up to social ridicule and
maintains traditional standards!
We are paying now for five terrible years. 'To make

bad blood' isn't a mere figure of speech not by any
means. For that is precisely what we all made, and it's
this bad blood which now disintegrates us. They were
five years of hate, fear, a waking nightmare. Five years
of shame and slime. We were all spattered and smeared
with it even to our very souls. The only thing we could do
was survive, hold on. Wait. And now we are paying for
it. And in spite of the difficulties, we must catch up,
Whatever the cost, France must shine again. I dare say
America can't begin to understand what we have to over
come, what it's like trying to work a machine without
oil. Our workmen's skill saves us. It's beyond praise.
My beard's white. I thought it would be. Well, there

Page 76
it is, my beard's white. That doesn't matter. But it'd
be a serious matter if my soul was just as faded. Thank
God my blood's still red. And I'll pour it out to the last
drop. I'll not spare a drop.
90
Sunday, 7.30 p.m.
At last we've almost finished with Epinay. This

terrible studio is nothing hut a sewer surrounded by
trains, buses, woodcutters and guinea-fowl. One can
hardly hear oneself speak there let alone have enough
silence for the sound. I must be through with Marcel
Andre by one o'clock as he's playing in Vient de Paraitre.
But at twelve the current goes off and I still have to do

the shots showing his terror when he first sees the
Beast. By a miracle the current comes on again so we just
make it. Lunch. Marais's made up with his hands done as
well but he's so furious because his nails won't stick on
that he won't come with us and has shut himself up in
his dressing room. They take some potato puree and
stewed fruit (boiled without sugar) up to him, as this
ferocious beast happens to be on a diet, and anyhow he
can't open his mouth without disturbing his whiskers*
At two o'clock made a start on the scenes of Marais

alone. The stand-in dressed as the merchant will have to
do. I found some striking angles to shoot from, but daren't
hope for too much, remembering what surprises film
stock and the labs can turn out. Can only wait and see.
Once Marais's got his long hair on, his temper seems to be
shorter, and he bristles at the slightest word. He's aware
of it too ; so he takes himself in hand then starts all over
again. It's exhausting racing to finish by 6 p.m.
To all this, Alekan remains as indifferent as any

cameraman. Load the sound camera up again. Then an
arc fuses. Marais forgets his lines. Darbon's face falls.
Page 77
I get worked up then Arakelian starts retouching
Marais's make-up just as I'm about to shoot. But if I
haul him out, Marais will get angry. And we proceed
from one crisis to another till we eventually get around

to the last take where the Beast's right hand comes to
wards the camera and is held in a close-up.
Give the technicians a drink all round and then leave

this detestable studio for ever. Tomorrow, Monday,
nothing's doing. We'll start again on Tuesday morning
and do the father's room (tear scene) at Saint-Maurice,
which is a studio I like. Yesterday La Victorine Studios at
Nice were burned down.
Monday the 8th, 1O a.m.
Shall spend the day resting, seeing doctors. Will go

to the dentist, R., Clement Simon. My eyes were sore
last night and I couldn't even read yesterday. Had to get
Clement to read the report of Laval's trial to me in the
car.
This is just a case brought by politicians against

politicians! Laval swims very well in dirty water. Others
go under in it. Yesterday was a fete for the dogs,
Moulouk and Ficelle (Lucile's dog). They devoured the
deer carcase and then started on the bodies of the dead
dogs. They simply rolled in them.
To be honest, I just wouldn't know what to do with

out this film work. For I couldn't wake from this dream
and jump back with both feet into line. Besides, I'm
hardly presentable except to those who are used to my
miseries. I look very strange, what with my forehead,
eyes and odd white beard. The world is such that it
would simply think I was trying to look eccentric. So
I keep myself to myself,
Page 78
92
Cut my appointment with the dentist after all and

went to Joinville with Berard, as I wanted to go over the
Merchant's house thoroughly, furnish it, soak myself in
its atmosphere: live it. Berard arranged the furniture.
I had to go off at 5.30 to see R,, leaving him in the
middle of doing the father's room where I'll be shooting
tomorrow. Just got back from seeing R. and Clement
Simon. The latter loathes R. He thinks the Sulphanila-
mides have caused this skin disease. Which isn't a very
sound diagnosis since I had the dermatitis before I
started to use this Septoplix. I have to treat this dermatitis
with cold compresses which the germs don't like,
apparently. But simple as this treatment is, it's almost
impossible when filming because one can't rest, diet or
keep anything sterile.
A studio is the very antithesis of a clinic. Only people

with iron constitutions can stick it, invalids certainly
can't. In fact they're not welcome.
Tuesday the tyth } 11 p.m.
A good day full of the kind of work I like. Every

thing went as well as could be expected. Though the
studio was cold at first owing to the wet plaster. But
it soon warmed up once the lights were on. Soon the
neatly arranged room was reduced to chaos by having
to move things around to get at the right shooting angle,
and in the end, the set looked like a Ver Meer sacked by
vandals. Marcel Andre slept right through all this with
the sheets right up to his chin. We kept the floor tiles
G 93
Page 79
covered with paper till they had to be shown. Berard

arrived on the lorry at nine. Josette was there at seven;
I, at 8.30. It always takes such a time to get a set ready.
By midday, we'd only just managed to do the shot which
comes before the stunt when Josette passes through the
wall. The camera pans round the room, then focuses
quickly across to the wall. Will start the stunt shot with
this same camera movement so as to link up. After lunch
do the scene of Josette kneeling beside the bed. It's now
getting on for six and the union won't let us go a second
over time. It's seven minutes to six and Alekan is still
setting the lights on Josette for the shot that follows the
stunt. She must sparkle. And not until two minutes to
six do we get that effect, but just in time to do the shot
of her coming in, taking her glove off, throwing it on
the bed and kneeling down beside it.
In order to get enough room for the trucking rails

we've had to break through a wall and move the furniture
back; and this set, which was so carefully put together, is
now a shambles again. We have reflected patches of light
from large water vats and bits of broken mirror over the
characters so as to give them the appearance of luminous
marble as in the ceilings at Villefranche. And thus gradu
ally I coax the myths and memories of my childhood back
again. If only I have managed to fix them on to the screen.
But that's no easy matter we shall see.
Wednesday the 10th 3 8.30 a.m.
No use complaining. Must go through with it some

how, whatever the cost. The irritation on my face is un-
94
bearable. And now on top of it, my eyes, ears and arms

are also affected. Only thing to do is to work so hard I
Page 80
forget it. Made an awful mistake yesterday. I shot the
father's bedroom with the furniture still there and this,
of course, had all been taken away previously by the
money-lender. But I've got around it and made my mis
take into a discovery. For of course, when Beauty comes
back, so must the furniture return too in its place, as
if by magic. This afternoon, we must show the room
suddenly empty again before Ludovic confesses that he's
signed the bond.
Wednesday evening, 1 1 o'clock.
I've been worried all day by an oppressive sense, not

exactly critical and certainly not common. But the feeling
that I am out of touch with the world. Stage-hands stand
around in groups union meetings or something and
the whole film seems moribund. And a loathsome lugu
brious light envelopes the artists, however much Alekan
focuses arcs on them. Somehow, they won't hold their
power properly and spoil the takes. Josette can't go on
kneeling for ever. The fake diamonds have no fire to them.
Only real diamonds will sparkle after all. I must do some
thing about it. Can't do the last scene. Time's up.
Lamps go off. Go over my directions for tomorrow
morning's scene Ludovic with the bailiffs.
Run through. Some of it's superb. But far too grey

and dim. Is this the lab's fault? I hope so. I'll ask them
to print with more contrast. And see if I can't obtain

artificially what Kodak stock seems incapable of getting.
My beard grows. My forehead peels. My boils multi
ply. I struggle on. Have been given a book about myself
written by Lannes and published by Seghers.
Thursday morning the llth, J o* clock.

Page 81
Woke up this morning after a night in which my

dreams seemed to move like dirty water forming mon
strous waves. My neck hurts. And yesterday a boil
started on the back and is already bigger. Pain's trying to
find my weakest point in its effort to overcome me. I'll
fight the germs as long as I can. But they are stronger than
we are. Work from nine to 4.30. The studio hands knock
off for a union meeting. On Saturday the sound people,
who are stupidly paid anyhow, went on strike. Shall have
to shoot the silent sequence: of the stag and Josette's
faint. It's all a struggle, internal and external. Everything
conspires against this film.
Thursday evening.
This morning we shot the scene which was left over

yesterday evening, (the one where the bailiffs carry off
the chest and Ludovic comes in and confesses to his
96
father). After lunch we all went on to the great hall set.

Berard turns up. He thinks the dresses are in a bad state,
deals with them and rearranges the set. The slightest
breach of taste here would make the whole thing turn
into 'Ye Olde Inn 5 . But there's no need to worry. For
Berard arranges the simple furniture and makes it look
like a Ver Meer again all in a few minutes. Then we
went to deal with the decor of the extravagant forest
which I'm having built on a neighbouring stage for the
sequence where the merchant loses his way in the mist.
I do admire these stage-hands. They really do achieve the
impossible. And copy nature so well that they even fool
the animals. Dogs scratch at the foot of their fake trees
and horses stop to nibble their fake branches.
Climb ladders and reach the top of a veritable moun

tain of wood and plaster. Plot the angles with Clement
Page 82
and Alekan and find some which I could never have
visualized from the ground. Sound goes on strike on
Saturday so shall take the opportunity to go on doing
silent sequences such as the merchant wandering in the
wood trying to find his way. The choice of what we can
do is narrowed down what with Marais's illness and the
less serious matter of the dresses. It's out of the question
to make Jeannot work and quite impossible to use some
of the dresses. But I'll go on somehow, no matter what.
I can't praise Josette enough; except where she looks

too big, all the scenes I ran through of her yesterday are
adorable. Her acting is grace and simplicity itself and
just the right style for the good little girl telling hei
father things he cannot understand himself; and yet, for
all her splendour, she doesn't humiliate him. I'm
enormously indebted to Pagnol. The tear stunt has come
off better then we'd dared hope.
97
Friday the 12th Oct., 11 p.m.
One of the worst problems that results from turning

time inside out and upside down is how to remember
which dress and what hair style the actresses must wear
now so as to correspond with the scene that went before
and the one that will come after. But this morning I can
indulge in the luxury of transforming Mila. We had
brought Berard out to Saint-Maurice and he shut himself
up in her dressing room with her. An hour later an ab
solute marvel appeared. A perfect Spanish portrait as
violent as a caricature. The actress's little doll-like head
was framed under the cone of a high wig, tied with red
ribbons, set with diamonds and boned, coned, waved,
curled and furled till it stood like a fantastic submarine
plant.
This was for the supper scene. Beauty is serving at

table and then runs off when her sisters insult her. Which
Page 83
links up to her scene with Jeannot which we took at
Rochecorbon and that is so bad I intend to do it all
again.
I begged Alekan to get plenty of contrast into this

scene.
At five o'clock the men start throwing up enough

scaffolding to besiege a whole town, and in less time than
it takes the actors to make up. All of which blocks the
stairs, so we have to run up and down ladders till we al
most meet ourselves on them, and now we've got to push
the trucking rail up to the inmost corner of the wall. And
there we do the sequence of the sisters leaving Beauty's
room as Ludovic comes up and asks them for the golden
key. I had hoped to do one more scene: where Ludovic
follows his sister upstairs as she won't listen to him. It
98
would have been an original perspective. But it's already

six and we must stop at half past, so it's too late. No more
for now. So I go and wander in my forest. Will shoot
Marcel Andre on the horse tomorrow. My beard's grow
ing longer. My cheeks thinner. But we have to catch up
with the schedule and fill in a bit, too.
Saturday the 13th Oct., 8 a.m.
We ' re going to work on the forest today from midday till

8 p.m. Alekan will have been at Saint-Maurice since
nine doing his tetrachloride tests. Like the wind machine
and most of the equipment in rotation, the fog gadget's
now out of order. So I seize this opportunity to snatch
a rest. I haven't the remotest idea how this film will turn
out. But I've stood in the wings and directed every shot
with all the intensity and passion that I can summon. I
have gone through all the stuff I have shot in Touraine
Page 84
but haven't yet selected the material taken at Raray,
Epinay or Saint-Maurice. I'd like to take my time at
this with the whole story at my finger-tips ; and then not
choose a shot merely because it's good photography. It's
just possible that a certain slowness will come out in the
film in spite of shooting all these short scenes in such a
rush. Nobody can foretell. And it's a question I refuse
to worry about. I just work from day to day trying to
concentrate on each shot on each object as it comes
along. But it would be strange indeed if some beauty
doesn't emerge from all our efforts. Iberia assures me that
it will. But, worse luck, nothing is certain in films; one
99
can always be mistaken. Sometimes, I catch myself say

ing: 'As far as I'm concerned, that shot was perfect'
after a take that's gone just wrong somewhere. And I've
often had those boss shots developed to find they've
turned out all right.
Sunday the 14th Oct., 6 p.m.
Was too ill to write yesterday evening. For the first

time, pain triumphed all along the line. The torture was
terrible, the boil on the back of my neck was like a demon
and I thought I'd have to throw in. But, thanks to my
unit, even if I did, the work could go on. Marais could
produce the actors, Clement direct the camera, Iberia the
continuity. And, of course, Berard could contribute the
miracle. My unit is good enough to go on for a week
without me; as Madame de La Fayette says: 'par machine*.
A blood test this morning. R. came at five. Apparently,

I'm very, very ill. At seven, Dr Chabannier told me the
result of the analysis: sugar's there again; it's that, of
course, which encourages the germs to make this offen
sive. Shall have to start the insulin again. Shall go to the
Page 85
studio as long as I am able. But go I will.
Tackled the forest yesterday. It's a complete world of

artificial grass, moss and bark. The groom from whom we
hire Marais's horse took one look at the set, then dis
appeared, frightened that we were going to get up to
some tricks with his Arab. When I arrived: no horse.
Now everybody's looking for a horse! Cars dash off in
every direction. At last it's found. We sooth the groom.
100
Take up positions but now it's too late and, whereas we'd
planned six shots, we shall be lucky if we do two. Will
use doubles for Josette and the others. The fog and the
distance will enable me to get away with it. Will do
the sisters' room after that.
Nothing's more mysterious than photography. I'm

looking at my photo on the cover of Monde Illustie it was
taken in Touraine when I thought I was quite cured,
whereas I was, in fact, far from well. The camera could
see what I couldn't even feel. I thought I was perfectly
fit but it's a photo of a sick man.
It seems I was right to fight against diffuse lighting and

the use of gauzes. For yesterday's pictures were a thou
sand times more robust and had got that clean, sculp
tured line in the lighting which I admire so much in
Perinal. It isn't kind to women but it does bring out
their character. Alekan is gradually finding his balance
and a style or whatever it is that corresponds to the way
I tell a story, gesticulate or write. He's most helpful and
I'm very grateful to him. He's never difficult or tries to
prove I'm wrong. Our unit becomes more and more
homogeneous.
Page 86
Monday the l$th October.
It's rather damp in the forest today for it's a plaster

forest and the cold strikes up through one's shoes, which
isn't exactly good for one's cold. I'm always without
either one horse or the other. Groups of unknown sight
seers drift through my trees, climb over my hillocks and
I 01
get in the technician's way. They are all armed with

Kodaks. But in spite of it all I manage somehow or other
to go on working in this fog and under these glaring
arcs. And I'll pick out what will go into a quick montage.
Marais's still got his boil. Mila's got a temperature of
102.2. We'll have to call in the insurance company again.
Have finished off with a bird's eye shot of Josette's
double on Aramis taken from one of the trucks slung
between two cranes.
If Mila's illness stops her making a start on the sisters'

room tomorrow, I'll go on with the forest. And do some
close-ups which will come in handy when we come to
cut. Have an appointment with Ib6ria at 10.30 to choose
the Raray, Epinay and Saint-Maurice material. First class
projection. Alekan has got what I wanted. My boils ex
haust me. Insulin tomorrow.
Tuesday the l6th October.
I'm not in the least proud of the fact, but I wonder

who else would work as I work, suffering as I suffer?
What I mean is, I wonder if there is any professional in
this field in which I am an amateur who'd exert himself
at the cost of all his strength, preferring the work to his
Page 87
own health; who'd go on living in this topsy-turvy world
of make-up men in this cyclone of dust, moving furni
ture, with the back of his neck being bitten into as if
by a beast, rods of pain riveting the nerves of his skull
and shoulder. And all this time with a cold, an incurable
cold in the head which, though it always raises a laugh
102
or two on the music-halls like the mention of cuckolds

isn't so funny for all that. I wonder what would happen
to me if it weren't for Jean Marais's devotion and kind
ness? He looks after me though he's ill himself, and even
comes to Saint-Maurice to give me my insulin injections.
Did the sisters' room today. In one hour, whilst 1 was

choosing the takes with Iberia in the projection room,
Berard rearranged it and gave it elegance, comfort and
that peculiar disorder which any room has that's well-
lived in.
'If you can arrange to get through seven scenes,'

Paulve promised, 'I will leave your forest set intact.' And
I have. Even adding three extra shots. One of Cabriole;
the arrow landing in the room; the table being over
turned, panning up to Nane Germon crying 'My dress!'
For the third time Jacinthe refused to stay on the cushion.
She must have known what was coming.
Projection: Forest in the fog. Some of it's all right,

but I haven't got enough for the montage. The backers
will have to realize that it's sheer madness for them to
spend a fortune on building a set and then snatch it away
before one can use it properly.
Wednesday the ijth October, 11 p.m.

Page 88
Watch the work, stretched out on a bed with yellow

canopy in the sisters' room. Well, not exactly, for the
back of my neck's so bad I can't even stretch.
Do some fairly straightforward scenes as contrast to

the more bizarre stuff we've already done. Was through
103
by 6.30 which means I can take my time tomorrow and

go easier.
Saw Dr D. (specialist on boils) at eight o'clock. The

diet we'd been following amazed him. He told us to drop
it and take some injections to clean our blood up and act
as a tonic.
Thursday, 4 a.m.
Woke up with unbearable pain. As I can neither sleep,

nor even walk up and down, I pick up this notebook to
try and sooth myself by crying my pain to the unknown
friends who will read these lines. They exist. I know
them without knowing them. I visualize them in the
darkness. A ferocious beast (the Beast) has got its paw
on the nape of my neck and is torturing me. The car
buncle is just getting a root and legions of germs encircle
it, to protect me. A furious battle which I view against
the background of the night. An endless battle which
germs have waged for years, for generations, building
a positive Wall of China round pain. Have just had to take
some pyrethane. In spite of my resolutions I can't bear
any more. I am, I suppose, paying now for the pleasure of
directing a film which I'd dreamt about for months and
months. Pain forces me to complain. It is like a vicious
thorn on top of the already burning bush of my flayed
nerves. And now my ears are throbbing. How can I go on
Page 89
bearing this? What can I do? I must do something. And
now the light's gone off. I thought it might stay off all
night, but now it's back. I will try to draw my torture.
104
There are plumes of pain, smoke-clouds of pain,

flourishes, lightnings and illuminations of pain. Huisinan
and Cohen came to see me this evening about nine,
about their project of a documentary film on my work.
They saw the state I was in when I came back from the
doctor. And after staying about five minutes they went
off again.
I never thought I would have to comfort myself again

by doing these drawings, as I used to in the days when I
was under Doctors Derick and Solier. But then it was a
question of disintoxication. And perhaps it is now? Per
haps these carbuncles are the disintoxication of my system
as it throws off natural toxins in its disgust with life.
Dr Dumas can't give me the sulphate of copper in

jections because the nettle-rash has started again on my
eyes. The lesion on the nape of my neck is still very hard
and painful. Our work today was terribly difficult as the
electricity broke down every other hour. All the same I
managed to get the scene where Nane ties the velvet bows
on Mila's pointed wig, into the can. I had placed a bas
ket-work of wires before the arcs, so that they would
throw shadows on to the actresses' faces as though under
the shadow of the birdcages.
After lunch, tackled the hall scene where the sisters

come in from the stable, carrying the magic mirror.
Finished up at six by doing the monkey which Mila sees
in the mirror when she looks into it. He was a charming
Page 90
creature. I did this shot by putting an ordinary glass into

the mirror frame and placing the monkey behind it. We
made him wear a bonnet like the sisters wear, and put
a ruff round his neck, and sat him on an open book a la
Char din.
And tomorrow morning I'll do the old hag whom Nane

sees. After that we'll deal with the sequence of the Mer
chant coming home after seeing the Beast. (The scenes
where Marais is shown only in profile, or rather it's
a three-quarter shot.)
Friday evening, midnight.
If I wrote every evening: 'I have finished my seven

shots. I have finished such and such scene' it would be
tedious. The essential thing for me to do is to try and
make young people, who will one day read me, realize
heroism is the first attribute of a poet, that a poet is
only a servant of the power of the forces that drive him,
and, as a good servant, he must never abandon his master,
but follow him even to the scaffold. My pain was so
violent today that I was afraid, all the time, that I was
going to faint. But somehow managed to go on, managed
to direct, invent, and receive visitors as if I had an in
exhaustible supply of energy . But several times I felt the
symptoms of protoxjde azote: an utter nausea with
the commotion around me which seemed suddenly to be
all of a piece and incurably vulgar. And yet we were
rushing headlong into a multiple world where all was
wonder, delicate and secret and besides which all our
106
clutter looks like a farce in bad taste. I suppose it's

Page 91
a faint coming on. Our world certainly exists, we must be
modest about it. Up till now, I haven't stopped directing,
telling them where to place the camera, producing the
cast, running to fetch them from the directing-rooms,
seeing the rushes and trying to hurry Alekan and Aldo
who are both slowness itself. I have set myself against that
tribunal which condemns anything out of the ordinary to
torture. I'm determined to accomplish the exceptional.
It is the one thing France can still do.
Saturday morning, the 20th October.
Last night was so unbearable that I was almost happy.

It was the hair shirt, the ecstasy of a monk. In Le Sang
d'un Poete the statue says: 'You have written that you
walked through a mirror but you didn't believe it.' It
would be ridiculous to write 'a poet must be a saint' and
then complain just when there is a chance of proving it.
I look at myself in the mirror. It's awful. But doesn't
worry me in the slightest. The physical doesn't matter
any more. Only the work and its beauty counts. It would
be criminal to make the film suffer and reflect the drudg
ery of my suffering and ugliness. The screen can be a true
mirror and reflect the flesh and blood of my dreams alone.
As for the rest, that doesn't matter any more.
On top of everything, I have tracheitis. I keep coughing

and each cough makes the open wound hurt more. If I
107
were in good health perhaps it would be the film which

would then be ill. I am paying. Paying in full. Which is
the moral of Les Chevaliers de la Table Ronde, a play that no
body understood, because at that time nobody would
take anything seriously or make the slightest effort. A
work which devours its author isn't a fancy. It is a truth
that such work hates us and contrives by any foul means
Page 92
to cast us off.
Suadaj the 21st.
Things reach a crisis. It was as though my neck were

being sawn through with a blunt saw. After lunch, I was
drunk, completely sick with pain. I thought I was going
to faint. I could see from the way the technicians looked
at me that they were afraid of it too. Their kindness is
unending. Raymond Meresse, the chief electrician,
brought some fresh lard which one can't get anywhere. I
have to put it on my face every night. But all the same, I
was able to pull myself together enough to direct the
scene preceding Marais's slapping Mila's face and found
a good perch for the camera.
An endless stream of visitors from Switzerland and

Belgium (Formes et Couleurs ) etc. . . ) all interested in the
film, wanting photographs. One thing delighted me at
every projection and that is the realization that none of
us are making the mistake of looking at every shot as
though it were a still. That quality must be secondary to
the scenes and not dominate them. The danger with
cinema work is that if you try to set the effect of a Rem-
108
brandt you end up with a Roybet. It's much safer not to

worry about that quality then and find you've achieved a
Ver Meer after all.
Had my beard shaved yesterday which has already gone

a long way to relieve the terrible itch as each hair was an
antenna of pain. In 194^ it costs 200 francs to have a
shave. This morning Nane Germon took us to a little
restaurant that makes a speciality of oysters, as my new
doctor has recommended them. I don't like appearing in
public. The Parisian is tactless and cruel. Pain seems to
Page 93
amuse him. In the tube yesterday evening a young Cap
tain, realizing that I couldn't stand, offered me his seat.
I can't get over it. Generally my bandages only make
people laugh.
Sunday evening.
My eye is affected now and is swollen up as if it had

been whipped with nettles.
Monday the 22nd, evening.
The pain is now a torture, a torture so horrible that I

am ashamed of ever showing myself; and it is that which
might make me decide to stay at home. At eight o'clock,
Dr D. came and found my general condition a little
better but what can he do against this lace of nerves
which defend themselves by such revolt?
Have shot the famous face-slapping scene. I hope to

use only one take but Michel, put off by the slap,, forgot
his cries. Only five minutes before, poor Mila, who is
always in the wars, was hurrying out of her dressing-
room when she fell over her dress and now has a large
bruise on her right cheek. However, we took it all right;
Mila cried and Marais comforted her; the dressers rushed
round her and made up for lost time: they had had to
keep silent while we were recording the slap.
Tuesday the 23rd.
Lymphangitis. Phlegmon on the neck. Impetigo start

ing. Bronchitis. Did yesterday's scene again this morning.
Beauty's room. Decide with Paulve and Darbon to stop
Page 94
the film.
Wednesday midday.
Can't bear the agony of my face any more. This morn

ing Paul went to see Professor Martin to get me admitted
into the Pasteur Institute. Have an appointment there at
2 . 3 o . I am in such pain I even wonder if I can hold out till
then. I am terribly distressed at having to interrupt the
work. But I have stood all I can. I can't bear any more.
It's driving me mad.
1 10
Thursday the 25th.
I am reminded of what Thomas Mann wrote to me, a

long time ago when I was at Toulon with typhoid: 'Your
type dies in hospital. 5
I've been here in the Pasteur Institute since yesterday.

Professor Martin was kind enough to let me have a bed
straight away: (his flat's in the basement). Marais saw me
into my cell, then went home to get linen, butter, fruit,
cigarettes and the notebook and pencil I'm now using.
They started the penicillin treatment immediately. Peni
cillin and the atom bomb are now the height of fashion.
But like all fashions, they will pass. And the word 'peni
cillin' will, to those who read these notes one day, pro
duce the same effect as the word 'panorama' in Pere
Goriot. And the atom bomb will become just a squib.
But in i94, penicillin produces extraordinary cures.

I'm injected every three hours. And in the morning get a
very painful injection in the hard but sensitive core of the
carbuncle itself. They can't do anything for the impetigo
Page 95
and dermatitis on my face until my neck's cleared up.
A hospital is the only perfect nursing home : I am in a sort
of small surgical ward, where the doctors and the nurses
want nothing better than to nurse and get one well
quickly. If a visitor comes he can only see me through
a glass. I haven't any books. I shan't write anything here
but these notes. And I won't let myself think about the
film. This is a breathing spell, a parenthesis of calm. Shut
up at Saint-Maurice, blinded by pain, I didn't even
realize it was autumn. But from my iron bed I can see an
old brick wall through the french windows, and some
trees losing their yellow leaves as they're blown by the
wind.
in
5 o'clock.
Jeannot, Paul, Michel Auclair came to see me. They

were allowed into my ward; I'm afraid people may find
out who I am. The last thing I want is to have special
favours. I'm in hospital and would like it to remain a
hospital. An occasional visit to break this astonishing
solitude would then be something to look forward to.
When I saw Michel's face outside my window my heart
jumped with pleasure. Josette and Nane promised to
come tomorrow.
I thought Jeannot looked off colour and he's got a

cough so I made him promise to go and see Martin, and
get an appointment. He did so and has one for tomorrow
at eleven o'clock.
Have just eaten the bowl of soup and carrots that re

appear every day. It's perfect here. And you can imagine
how wonderful it is when anyone brings us any fruit or
champagne. It's rather like Beauty coming into the
wash-house dressed as a Princess.
Page 96
Friday the 26th October.
Have had terrible irritation this morning, particularly

on the lower part of my face. However, my neck and
shoulders don't trouble me so much. It seems that those
very painful injections of penicillin into the carbuncle
have stopped the inflammation which looked as if it
might turn septic.
112
Penicillin is only active for three hours. That's why

the patient has to be injected regularly. Once germs have
found a way to counteract its effect, they'll become im
pervious and once more triumph over the genius of man.
What makes one think of man in relation to germs is that
they both defend themselves by destroying the place
where they live.
The doctors came. Martin is stopping the general peni

cillin treatment, and I'm only to have the hateful in
jections. However, these do seem to get immediate
results.
Professor Aubin came to see me, he's an excellent fellow.

When Jean Marais had otitis, he used to come every day
to the Place de la Madeleine. And he'd never accept a
penny. (It was just the same with Martin, who was
Marais 's doctor at about the same time, and then certain
ly not as well off jas he is today.)
Marais became so friendly with both of them that, even

now, he's always talking about them. He used to say he
would like to have Aubin for a father. He would let
him puncture his ears again and again, and never flinch,
and he'd never have an anaesthetic.
Page 97
My secretary is being phoned all day long *Is it true
that Cocteau has a beard? Can we take a photograph?'
What stoicism the reporters show and perfect in
difference to other people's suffering.
The doctor has just given me a local injection. It

was terrible. I feel that he really doesn't like to inflict
such agony although he must be used to it by now.
I wonder what Jean-Pierre Aumont would think

if he could see me in this glass cage, being cured by
American penicillin and fed by the butter he sends from
Hollywood.
113
Saturday morning the 27th, 1O o'clock.
My face itched again during the night, and my right

hand, which had begun to clear up, now torments me
and has started to suppurate. The doctor came to ad
minister the penicillin torture whilst the insurance com
pany's doctor looked on. It has been decided that I shall
stay here till next Wednesday, and then take four or
five days off. I hope to start work again on the Tuesday
or Wednesday at Saint-Maurice.
The psychology of these nuns is interesting. They're

not supposed to show their own feelings ; with the result
they become the automata of collective kindness. It is
as impossible for them to reveal their own personality
as it is for many actors to make a movement on the stage
which they haven't rehearsed for instance, when some
body's hat accidentally falls off, they can't even pick it
up ... These excellent nuns nurse the patients' ward.
They do not nurse the patient. His case is too individual.
That would require initiative. And the slightest in
jection of initiative would upset all their routine and
amount to a crime of lese-majesty against the Medical
Superintendent. The patient is in pain during the night?
Page 98
He must wait the rounds. Then in comes an automaton,
draped in linen, who tidies the cell and disappears again.
Which doesn't prevent these nurses from being charming,
gay, and ready to laugh at any little thing they can.
The whole Pasteur Institute is organized round con

tagious diseases. And no exception can be made without
disastrous effects. The result is that patients like myself,
who are being treated with penicillin, but not themselves
contagious, have to follow the same rules as those who are.
We cannot open or shut the window. We cannot go out
114
of doors, or even drink or eat without having our plate

or mug whipped away by a sort of a murderer's glove, as if
it were stained with blood.
And this endless repetition of the Lady Macbeth,

ghosts draped in white linen with scarlet gloves come and
go through the corridors with arms extended, recalling
the image of Josette going through the wall to her father,
thanks to the magic glove only that one was blue.
2 o'clock.
Paul's just gone off with the Swiss publishers, and

Gaston Bonheur. They were allowed in without any
questions asked. I have signed the contract for my
complete work and they're going back to Geneva this
evening.
Sunday the 28th.
Page 99
Whilst I was pondering about the incredible number of
odd things still left for us to do such as synchronizing some
shots, adding some links here and polishing there, and in
general meditating on the enormous amount of patient
work which goes into any film, it occurred to me how-
pathetic it is that French audiences are, in general, so
grossly inattentive and indifferent both to the cinema and
the stage. They are seldom hypnotized by the screen,

and it's only in the cheapest flea-pits that you find an
audience who will listen and look attentively. But, apart
from these places, the audience just fidget, shuffle for
their cigarettes in the dark, can't find them, turn round
and ask somebody behind for a light. Such people
occasionally watch, and occasionally listen, recollect
some image which has already ceased to have any meaning ;
(but what do they care, they are only interested in
criticizing someone's profile and somebody's dress). It
seems to me that this crime of inattention, which no
one admits to, is the worst kind of insult that is chucked
at art. It's that which is largely responsible for the general
feebleness of our culture.
Egoism is the cause of such conduct. 'I reach the

theatre, then I look for my seat, disturbing the audience,
and distracting the actors. But what does that matter? I
hear it's a rotten play anyhow; and besides, other people
don't exist, or only in so far as they can satisfy my
pleasure.' And what pleasure! Every work of art is in
comprehensible if we skip a single line. And yet this
public, which dares to judge, habitually arrives at the end
of the first act.
I suppose that's why one generally ends up by just

serving up rubbish to this ill-mannered lot. It's all they
deserve. And even that, they taste absent-mindedly.
What a universe do such imbeciles miss. If they only

knew what waves of sustenance can flow to an eye and an
ear that is watching and listening, their lives would per
Page 100
haps cease to be such whirlpools of vacuity. Perhaps
there ought to be a Conservatoire for audiences. But if
they got as much benefit from such an institution as the
artists have done, they would learn nothing. And it
116
would merely reproduce an even wider rift between the

stage and its audiences.
France, it seems, is the only country in Europe where

such filthy manners are tolerated. In China, Indo-China
and Japan, the theatre is, of course, a cult; but I was
thinking of England and Germany, where I have been to
the theatre and noticed that any member of the audience
there who as much as crumples a cigarette-paper, soon
finds himself an object before a tribunal of disapproving
eyes.
In France, we start off by thinking kindness is a form

of stupidity and unkindness as something clever. And
nowadays politeness is considered a sheer waste of time.
One suffers proof of this every day.
I stood aside to allow a lady to get out of the metro.

'You're blocking the door deliberately!' she screamed.
This lady was red with hatred.
I have a habit of saying: 'Thank you' to the women who

punch my ticket. Many think that I am making fun of
them and shrug their shoulders at me with disgust.
I'm beginning to see the sense of the nuns' admirable

routine, and realize that any individualistic deviation
would take the starch out of the coifs which frame their
faces. For it is this impersonal manner and timetable,
day in, day out, year in, year out, which sustains them
and keeps them to their work like a plough-horse in its
traces.
Page 101
It's extremely difficult for people outside such a
routine to put themselves in the place of one of these
cogs in a machine, these grains of sand. But to that, they
could reply 'You are also a cog'. And that is perfectly
true.
Martin's just come. He thinks the wounds are going on
117
all right. Though the carbuncle on my neck is still with

standing the siege. As for the rest, it's improving. He's
left off the martyrdom for Sunday. Even when I've left
the Pasteur Institute, cured, I shall have to start work
with bandages still on.
Sunday evening, J o'clock,
Now night is falling; nothing's so strange as a hospital

night with its huge silence after all the attendance and
visitors of the day. My cell is a high blue and white
cubicle, balanced like a projection room, shadows
flickering on the partitions. This play of shadows looks
exactly like watered silk or the marble ceilings of a sea
side hotel. And the pattern is very complex as the wards
each side, the windows, the corridor, and the apartment
house through the trees all project and superimpose one
shadow across another.
Waves of friends have left caviare, flowers and bottles

of champagne which doesn't exactly suit the style of my
cubicle, making it look like something out of an American
film.
It's raining. Nane tells me that the insurance companies

don't regard me as a good risk and are not keen on
covering me for another film. Oh well, in that case, I'll
write books. I'll produce plays. Anyhow, there'll be
Page 102
La Belle to stand alongside of Sang d'un Pobte.
Of course, if the insurance companies realized how

one burnt oneself out making films, they'd never dare in
sure any of our breed and would only cover productions
118
of extreme banality. Clement and Bella came to see me.

He says that Saint-Maurice looks sinister and empty.
Le Collier de la Reine has been interrupted again by one of
those crises with the backers. Our sets are ready. But
the studio hands are on strike. I hope to God that I can
get on my feet soon.
1O o'clock.
This is the time when he coughs. His cough sometimes

wakes me with a jolt. It's terrifying. It emerges, swells,
forms scrolls and excrescences till it's like a lacerated
orchid. This fabulous voice is as a monitor lost in the
labyrinth of corridors, and barks like the innumerable
explosions in a war-film. He's been in this hospital a year.
If it weren't for him it would be a rest cure here; but
with him it's hell. One just waits from cough to cough.
Monday the 2$th.
And now I must tell the truth. I have never been so

happy as I have since I've been ill. The pain's nothing.
And I've pulled through, thanks entirely to my unit's
kindness and affection which is my reward. The end
less responsibility and the effort of staying on my feet
exalted me. My suffering itself was a contribution to the
film and I'm sure it hasn't been for nothing. I gave in only
when I saw I was no longer giving it life but death.
Page 103
I suppose it's only right and just that my face should

swell, crack, be covered with sores and hair, and that
119
my hands should bleed and erupt, since, after all, haven't

I forced Marais to cover his face and hands with a shell of
make-up which is as painful in removing as the agony of
my own dressings. It is as it should be, and I would not
have it otherwise; if it were, I would be more than dis
tressed.
Emile Darbon came to see me in very good form and

was most reassuring. One gets the impression that Darbon
loves both the film and the unit, and is bored without us
I told him of the insurance company's attitude; he shrug
ged his shoulders.
Have seen Martin. He's convinced that the trouble on

my forehead and the sores between my fingers on my
right hand need further diagnosis. He advises me to see
the specialist at Saint-Louis.
When the doctor came this morning, the root of the

carbuncle came right out. Its size amazed me. As the
doctor said: 'You've a hole as big as a franc in the nape
of your neck. '
Doctor Dumas came. He's cross because I can't go and

recuperate up in the mountains before starting work
again. 'What a lot of flies in your ward. Pasteur hated
them', he remarked.
W p.m.
Several visitors. Am presented with champagne,

chicken, flowers and cigarettes. My little cubicle is too
Page 104
narrow to hold all the presents . Alekan informs me that we
are going to get 6,000 metres of Agfa stock. He's in
despair after seeing the day before yesterday's rushes, as
120
he now realizes that all the work we've done would be a

hundred times more effective if we had really sensitive,
film. Til keep this good stock for the Beast's Hall
sequence. Darbon didn't say anything this morning but I
hear he hopes to get a bit more.
Alekan tells me that the stuff I think good is considered

by some people at the studio as hopeless, badly lit and a
mess. But of course, he doesn't know that I have had
years and years of it, and every time anybody tries any
thing out of the ordinary, people just sneer. They can't
see over their own rut or recognize anything which they
haven't known before. It is now accepted that poetic
things must be soft, whereas, in my opinion poetry is
precisely the opposite, something almost mathematical.
And I'm pushing Alekan in precisely the opposite
direction away from what these fools think is poetic. He
is slightly bewildered he hasn't struggled as long as I have
andreached the serenity which one eventually attainsafter
being faced with the stupidities of this age all one's life.
Nothing's so dreary as that sort of uniformity which

the know-alls call style. A film must distract the eye with
its contrasts, with unrealistic effects. It has to find, as
Goethe said, a truth that is beyond truth, and in opposi
tion to reality. (In Rubens's engraving of the sheep,
which Goethe showed to Eckermann, the shadow's on
the same side as the sun.) And so in a film, sometimes
one has to light one face more than it might be in reality,
and give a candle the power of a lamp. In the Beast's
Park I used a sort of twilight which doesn't, incidentally,
correspond to the time when Beauty goes out. And if it
suits my purpose, I will drag this twilight along with the
moonlight, if I need it. And it's not just because Tin
Page 105
dealing with a fairy story that I treat realism in such a
Hi
high-handed way. Making a film is the same as writing,

only in pictures. And I try to get an atmosphere which
will bring out the feeling in the film rather than corres
pond to the facts.
Tuesday the 3Oth.
The doctor thinks I ought to stay over Thursday, and

perhaps Friday too.
I'm afraid these sulphanilamide dressings may bring

my face out in nettle-rash again, as the skin's so sensitive.
Perhaps it would be better if I came back to the Institute
every day and had my penicillin dressings here. But I
don't see how I can, as the studio times don't fit with
the Institute's.
Yesterday, somebody brought in my Gran d Ecart manu

script (though I don't know who owns it). I didn't
recognize it; the school exercise books had been stuck
onto numbered pages, and the whole sumptuously bound.
Turning it over, I came across the exercise book's pale
green cover still with its cock and scrawled with doodles ;
and suddenly I saw the hotel at Le Lavandou again, the
Pension Bessy at Pramousquiers and Radiguet rolling
his cigarettes and taking notes for the Bal du Comte
d'Orgel. I was overcome with nostalgia.
Tuesday evening.
Here I am alone, listening to the cough, and watching

shadows. The dressing has stuck to my neck and hurts;
Page 106
122
but I can't get anyone to come. For it Is a rule historic

here that if you want anybody, you tap a spoon against a
cup, which, of course, no one can hear; and besides,
there's practically no one there anyway between seven
and eleven of an evening Marcel Jouhandeau left about
seven. He'd been telling me some sort of fairy stories
about rams, cocks and chickens.
A very charming man has just been 'in and given me a

fresh dressing. Also brought me some new stills to choose,
and Budry brought the enlargements for Formes et
Couleurs for me to caption. He'll come for them to
morrow.
More people, more presents. My little cell is full of

things which I can't share with the other patients as
it's against the hospital rules. I can't bear to see it all
wasted, so have to wangle it so that they can enjoy some
of it too.
Wednesday morning.
Have been reading the book which Jouhandeau brought

me yesterday all night and all this morning. There are only
four copies. Essai sur moi-meme. As I closed the book last
night, I thought of the remark Roger Lannes quotes
from the Potomak: 'God made man in his own image;
and I, tempted by God as others are by the devil, press
myself to my own image with all my strength.'
Jouhandeau's book is a book of love. It should be

called Tristan and Tristan. It's already got a name for itself
and Marcel can afford to ignore the conspiracy of silence
with which they're trying to kill him.
Page 107
123
He tells me he's been much better ever since he's

taken to getting up at four o'clock to work. Nothing dis
turbs him then, everything's asleep. And so this way he
escapes from the whirlpool of men. When they stir he
has finished.
Wednesday evening, W o'clock.
How can I protect my privacy? How silence this noise

that bellows round my silence? How can I stop these
write-ups, photographs and all the fantastic rumours
which invade my silence and prevent me from getting
on calmly with my work? I have an unhappy and inexplic
able faculty of creating a detestable tumult round my own
head, which the journalists increase every day, thinking
in all good faith that they are doing me a peculiar favour.
Shall I always have to put up with either extreme fulsome
praise or personal insults? And be the centre of a legend
that devours me and cuts across my work?
Friday, November the 2nd.
Came back to the Palais-Royal yesterday evening.

Paul and Jeannot fetched me in a car. I thought I was
quite wrong. But as soon as I got outside I found I was
unsteady on my legs. There was an absolute mountain of
124
letters at my flat. They'll never get answered. I couldn't

write a line yesterday evening, but started this diary
again today, Friday, 2 p.m. The barber's just shaved me.
Page 108
He'll be back at six to wash and cut my hair. The in
surance company insist that I work tomorrow. They must
be crazy. I'll try and start filming again on Tuesday though
the doctors at the Institute ordered me a fortnight in the
country. Must hold out somehow.
Saturday, November the 3rd.
Telephone calls from agents, the company, and in

surance people. The doctor's been. He said: 'A month in
the mountains would cure you for certain. If that's im
possible, don't go at all, for two or three days or even a
week wouldn't do any good. You might just as well start
work straight away as you have arranged.' And there I
agree with him. So I will leave the unit to work alone
on Monday, and do some work with Marcel Andre and
Josette. (We can so some odd shots which will come in
useful for the montage.) Shall go back to Saint-Maurice
on Tuesday and start on Beauty's room.
Spent the morning answering the phone, walking in the

Palais-Royal, receiving innumerable visitors, and have
this way exhausted myself deliberately to see if I could
stand up to it. I held out until eight o'clock (and then
dined opposite). My face still itches but I dare say that's
only because the skin's healing and not due to any new
trouble. At any rate, I hope so ; but shall soon find out at
Joinville. However, I shall risk it, whatever the cost.
i xaj
It's one thing to fall back on the insurance, but quite

another to leave all these people in the lurch.
Iberia came this morning. She says she is going to look

after me: make me sit down and rest occasionally, which
will be very odd. But she needn't worry, the doctors
will watch me and I will keep strictly to my diet.
Page 109
Must be careful that worrying about a relapse doesn't

cause one. As I can't have the mountain air, shall have to
find some inner freshness.
Have just remembered something strange which

happened when we were going to Arcachon Bay. Fate
tried to stop us. Everything got in our way, impeded us
and tried to prevent our leaving. I grew impatient.
And accepted General Corniglion's offer of his aeroplane.
The pilot nearly killed us all at La Rochelle ; that was the
first obstacle fate put up. Then, after days of waiting, dis
couraged, in a swamp infested with mosquitoes and
diphtheria, the camp commandant found us the car in
which we proceeded to the port with one breakdown
after another. I thought we would be blown up by a mine
at any moment.
But it wasn't a mine that threatened us ; fate was trying

to keep us from the sunstroke and fatal mosquitoes of that
grey dish of a harbour which was surrounded by dustbins
the fishermen used to empty their filth just behind our
hut. I realized then that all the miseries that now over
whelm me were caught there.
Monday the 5tA, 11 a.m.
Far too many people yesterday. Went for a stroll in the

Palais-Royal. Tired out. At five o'clock my eyes began
126
to swell up the nettle-rash flared up on my face again.

Darbon telephoned from Joinville this morning, I have
made them start without me, and do Marcel Andre in the
fog and Josette's faint. Gave precise instructions to
Iberia, Clement and Lucile. Clement brought me the
negative of the stag. It isn't bad to the eye. Will see what
Page 110
it's like on the screen. Radio Monte-Carlo came to re
cord in my room here ten minutes ago.
Monday evening.
Clement phones me as they go along from shot to shot.

Aramis without his groom kicked and plunged and has
smashed the set. Josette won't ride him.
My nettle-rash isn't so bad today. Darbon is worried

because I'm starting work again but I'm determined to
start tomorrow. The car is to fetch me at 8.30
Tuesday the 6th, 8 a.m.
Colette, whom I dropped in on yesterday, is suffering

from lumbago. Told me of an article in an American
scientific magazine brought by the Polignacs. In it the
American scientists apologize for letting loose carbuncles
and skin diseases over the whole face of the globe as a
direct result of their atomic researches. Perhaps I am
a victim of this; as I was years ago, when I fell in the
127
rue d'Anjou at the exact moment when there was an

earthquake in Japan, as Claudel told me afterwards-
Started work again on the film. Am as excited as a

child at Christmas. I woke up too early, got up too early;
I couldn't keep still at all.
Tuesday, 1O p.m.
Page 111
Felt very happy and excited going to Saint-Maurice
again. There's nothing so good as the feeling of being
able to write a poem with people, faces, hands, lights,
and things that one can put exactly where one wants
them. The whole unit feted me. Brought me chairs, rugs,
etc. I worked easily and well. Soon found the right move
ments for the actors and positions for the camera with
out much difficulty. And they obeyed the slightest pres
sure from this invisible thread which I held between my
fingers. We were doing the sequel to Beauty's room. She
is timidly putting on her grand court dress again with her
crown and veil, as though to convince herself that it,
hadn't all been a dream. She admires herself in the
dressing-table glass and is bathed in a supernatural light,
which fades as she turns round, hearing the latch lift
on the door. Her sisters come in. They throw the silver
mirror on the bed, and go out. Beauty picks the mirror
up, pressing her cheek sensuously against it and then
props it up against the candlesticks, and lies down on the
bed gazing into the one proof of her adventures. Before
I did this sequence, I had previously done the scene where
the sisters, having just rubbed their eyes with onions,
sob and beg her not to go away again.
128
Saw the run through of the stag at midday. The shot

of the animal lying down, as though in still-life, dappled
like leaves, before it springs up and bounds away, has
come off marvellously.
At 6.30 I saw yesterday's rushes which Clement des

cribed to me over the phone when they were doing it.
Marcel Andre in the fog. And Josette's cry as she first
sees the Beast, and faints. I'm now able to compare the
two kinds of stock. There is a world of difference be
tween them.
My nettle-rash has almost cleared up. Am getting
Page 112
better.
Wednesday the Jth, J.30 a.m.
Marais left at 7.30 to make up for the scene of the

Beast weeping into the magic mirror. My eye, which was
swollen last night, has now gone down again. The car is
to fetch me at 8.30. Hope to finish Beauty's room. If I
do, then I'll go on to the Great Hall, and then on to the
Sisters' room.
Wednesday the Jth, 1O p.m.
I hadn't got nettle-rash after all. Apparently it's

eczema, a most tenacious and mysterious thing. The doc
tor tries new injections but unfortunately he's concluded
that because my whole system is so run-down, I'm now a
129
prey to every illness. Now my teeth are giving me trouble.

And I haven't a single minute to get to the dentist. It's
terrible to be so young and yet so old. It makes one so
unbalanced.
From nine o'clock this morning till seven this evening

have been working on the stunt shot in Beauty's room.
Doing the trick with the mirror, making it reflect two
people at once , and Jeanno t and Josette , one after the other .
And where it reveals her disappearance and re-appear
ance. The stage-hands worked furiously, constructing,
demolishing, driving nails in and pulling nails out. When
ever I'm in the projection room I can't help wondering
how such scenes, which look so brilliant and fresh, can
ever come out of a place like this, .where we work
covered in dust, and frozen to the marrow. Went to
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sleep on my feet at Saint-Maurice, then went home and
slept in bed. That's how I like to work. But I'm terrified
now of waking up with some new pain.
Thursday the 8th, 10 p.m.
Doctor D. came to the studio to watch us filming and

has now come to the conclusion that most of the trouble
on my face is due to artificial sunstroke caused by the
arcs. Which may be so, for I had just the same kind of
inflammation under my eye eight years ago, when I had
real sunstroke at Samois.
When studio-hands get the same trouble they ap

parently cure it by rubbing grated raw potato on their
faces. It's raining. Shoot the hall scene when the im-
130
portant guests are received by the merchant. Escoffier has

grouped them round the table very well, like 'The Anatomy
Lesson'. Shoot the father's entrance with the guests, as
seen by Beauty from the sisters 5 room. And the one which
precedes it taken from above the banisters, between the
landing and the staircase. This afternoon, I ran what
would have been five shots into one. It makes it difficult
for Tiquet but I like making the actors move with the
camera rushing from one to the other whenever it's
possible.
I'd hoped to be through by now but at 7.30 I'm still at

it and Marcel Andre has to run off to his theatre. Only
one shot left to do. Will have to leave it till tomorrow
morning. (It will be an awful day. The draper in the cup
board.)
Friday the $th, J a.m.

Page 114
My left eye has swollen up again during the night.

Faguet, Mila's doctor, took some tests yesterday from
the scabs on my hand and forehead, to examine them at
the Institute to see whether they aren't the kind of sore
which only iodine can cure.
Doctor Dumas and his wife were overwhelmed by

Saint-Maurice. People who have never been to a Studio
before are astonished at all its tumult ; where scaffoldings
are put up in five minutes, and at these ghostly sets
thrown up to suit camera angles (with the cast's over
coats sprawling in the wings) and where vast banks of
lights seem to cancel each other out, but end up on the
screen as ordinary sunlight or moonlight.
The more the dresses get crumpled and torn, the more
they seem to come alive. At first an actress hardly dare
move in them, but later, she finds she can move with
ease in the heaviest sleeve, the stiffened collar and the
largest train. It's all a matter of getting used to it. And
these details which worry the continuity girl so much
don't matter. I never hesitate to shift the furniture
around either. It's difficult enough in ordinary life to
rememher where a thing was precisely. Even more so on
the screen. Choose the shots of the forest. The whole
thing is most strange quite in the style of Perrault. It's
as well to give oneself a few days grace before selecting
the takes ; for if you do it immediately after shooting,
your mind is hypnotized by the most absurd details .
The best of films is that it's all a card trick done in

front of the audience without letting them see what's
up one's sleeve.
At the same time that nature has given us nerves to

suffer from, it has given us an intelligence with which we
can overcome our suffering. This struggle against suffer
ing interests me almost as much as the films.
Page 115
Saturday the lOth t p p.m.
I'm not saying the work's good who can? But

since yesterday morning I've been working hard. Every
thing came easily and fell into place. My eye didn't
worry me; I didn't even feel tired. Everybody actors,
cameramen, electricians, were all lifted by a single wing
which seemed to come from my heart. We were doing
132
the comic scene where Marais and Auclair imitate the

sisters in the Hall after they've shut the draper up in a
cupboard. First of all I did some shots of the draper in
side, lighting him by a mere slit so that his eye, nose and
mouth were only just visible. Tackled the Ludovic
Avenant farce this morning. Fixed a rail up from the
ground to the landing so that the camera follows them
up and down. After lunch (with Berard, Boris, Marie-
Louise, Bousquet and an American journalist) I took the
rail down and fixed another up so that when the camera
reached the top, it could turn and take the whole room
in one sweep. With this gadget I can shoot the boys'
sequence in one go when they take off their sisters,
snatching up a tapestry to use as a train, and this dodge
also allows me to use Mila's and Nane's actual voices to
double for the boys when the latter are supposed to be
imitating them. This way I telescoped what would have
been a dozen shots into four. I hadn't time for the last.
But, even so, have got eleven in the can. Will do the
twelfth on Monday morning before starting on the
sisters' room.
Monday the 12th, S a.m.
Spent Sunday going over the montage in my head

Page 116
right from the beginning. In my opinion the more one
plays around with time and space in films the better.
There is no need for the arrow shot to be realistic. I
will show the little dog on the cushion before the arrow
lands, as if the audience were in the room waiting for it
to arrive after they have just seen it leave the bow.
133
Ill focus on Jeannot's hand after he's pushed and will

give another second more of Nane climbing on the chair.
Claude's first montage is far too realistic too far from
creative writing. Example: in Hugo, Claude Frollo is
pushed from the top of Notre-Dame by Quasimodo.
Another chapter begins: 'Falls from such heights are
rarely perpendicular. The archdeacon . . .' Let's hope
we have some luck this afternoon! I'd like to make the
scene where Beauty and Avenant are seen for the first
time very beautiful. So far they've only been seen from
behind.
Monday evening, 1O o'clock.
Everything went well. Just as one imagined it; every

thing, including the lights, the linen in front of the
chimney, even the artists were in their right places.
Run through of the important guests' scene and the be
ginning of the draper farce. It was run direct without
filter. It's not bad but what faults there are come as re
lief. It was as if I were looking at Mozart's music of which
the slightest detail stands out well in isolation, and the
whole movement is entirely admirable. Visually it
resembles the Magic Flute overture.
Tuesday the 1 3th, 7.0 a.m.
Page 117
Tried to eat some fish and was taken ill immediately.
My eyes puffed up again and the irritation returned,
134
1 Thanks to Antergan you can eat whatever you fancy',

Doctor N. had said.
Money, of no consequence in itself, is the very anchor

of films. For only the fear of losing it drives the producers
to give us what we need with such alacrity and exactitude.
If it weren't for money, the car would be hours late
when it fetched us, and the stage-hands would fritter their
time away. Sets would remains half-built, and things
wanted would not, as they do now, fly of their own
volition into one's hands.
Am writing this waiting for the car. The current's

gone off. I light a candle. These cuts will put us behind.
The actor's won't be able to see well enough to makeup.
My schedule will be all behind by the time I get there.
And quite apart from that a cut like this could ruin it
entirely now a large part of the film's at the labs. I've
been driven into myself for the last five years, paralysed
by a hostile atmosphere ; and have found myself in that
dangerous state of being full of hate. My gift of being
able to improvise in front of an audience left me. But I
find gradually that I can relax again. When I have a problem
I still solve it only when I'm alone in my room, but one
day I may be able to work with an audience again. I
wonder if I shall?
Raising my eyes (I have my notebook on my knee),

I've just caught sight of one of those accidental effects
which one's always straining after in one's work. The
candle reflected in the glass covering the Antinoe mask
makes its left temple look hollowed out, and gives the
curl of the hair and the beard the appearance of a white
wound. The flame is very high and seems to come from
the very centre of its spirit. And the enamelled surface
Page 118
shines and reflects the flame which seems to burn be-
hind the mask itself. This optical phenomenon looks al

most supernatural.
I spent two hours yesterday going over the scene where

Josette sees her reflection in the floor she's polishing, as
Jeannot's hand comes into the picture to retrieve the
arrow.
To control chance. That's what our work entails.
Tuesday evening, 1O o'clock.
I'm absolutely disfigured and devoured hy these rashes

on my eyes and cheeks. It seems incredible to me that 1
go on working; and what's more, that people can put up
with me, and even seem to like me in spite of it. Tele
scoped another six shots into one, thanks very much to
Tiquet's suppleness and precision with his camera; any
body would think it had wings and could go up or down,
whenever he wished. (Jeannot, Josette and Michel's
scene in the sisters' room.) People who come to the
studio for the first time are astonished at its chaos, at all
the clutter littered over the set, and they wonder how
one can get in a scene only a few feet from a crowd of
technicians and cameras. But once projected, such scenes
can be viewed in quite a detached manner, and the
smallest fault appears monstrous. We shall film down
stairs this afternoon, and do the chest scene, the usurer
removing the furniture with the bailiffs. As soon as the
film gets off its main theme, and away from the leading
characters, the rhythm seems to go wrong and it re
quires an incredible effort to get back again. I arranged a
136
Page 119
scene from one angle and find that I am directing it

from a place that has nothing to do with the camera-
angle. From 2.30 to 6.30 I did nothing but stand on a
high gallery, similar to the one at the Hotel de Bour-
goyne, watching the Russian actor who's supposed to be
playing the usurer. He can't even move, let alone talk.
He looked the part all right; but for the rest, he's ab
solutely hopeless. If these shots of him turn out as bad as
they play, I'll double the part myself. I must hold on.
Couldn't write yesterday. Too exhausted, what with a

late run-through coming on top of a full day's shooting.
Alekan's improved enormously; especially on the close-
up work of the actors . As the stuff we shot first will come
last, he'll be at his best at the beginning of the film; and
perhaps the difference in quality which I notice won't
be conspicuous. The current went off seven times today.
Practically nothing was done. And nothing is quite so
demoralizing than Saint-Maurice when everything is
turned off and cold, with a few technicians crawling
over the sets holding candles.
Berard, with only the property man to help him and

entirely by candle-light, designed and cut out the statue
of Diana which shoots the arrow, killing Avenant, and
draped it over some young woman he's discovered.
Have finished the great hall. Have still got a shot to do
in the sisters' room, from another angle (Josette Day
is laid up with gastric 'flu and confined to her room for a
137
week, so I shall have to do something else.) Tomorrow

shall go on to the fanlight of Diana's Pavilion. It looks an
Page 120
absolute conservatory of ivy, under its covering of snow.
Saturday evening the IJth, 11 o'clock*
So many different things have turned up these last

two days that I've been too busy to record them.
Have done the shot of the boys arriving at the Pavilion

(taken it from below and above). Did the high shots first
from inside this square tower, which is covered with
white ivy outside, and dark ivy inside. Without doubt
this tricky set is Berard at his best.
The way I get this man, who flames with disorder yet
has the precision of a maniac, to work is by anticipating
him. I first show him a mediocre set, he looks des
pondently at it, then gets excited, alters it, and in a few
minutes produces exactly what I was looking for. The
exterior of the Pavilion surpasses my wildest hopes. It is
absolutely pure Gustave Dore as in Perrault's illustra
tions. (C.f. the Prince arriving at the Sleeping Beauty's
Castle.) When the boys climb the iron ladder and peep
through the roof, it looks exactly that style, with the
glasswork shining like diamonds and the ivy throwing
shadows on to them. The acanthus on the walls will link
up with the one at Raray. I am nearly half-way through
the film. Avenant has just been hit by the white arrow
in his back although it's not yet five o'clock. Marais
swings in space hanging on to Ludovic's hands. It's an
enormous effort to keep this pose. An archer up on the
138
boom aims at his back, which is protected by a mail shirt

and a cork pad underneath. The archer was shooting
straight at him as he refused to shoot up at an angle as
he thought that would be too dangerous. But Marais
insisted he should try. So he did. The arrow hit the mail
and glanced off, grazing the back of Marais' s neck. The
Page 121
archer was afraid he might even transfix him. I wanted to
stop the whole thing. But Marais then found a way of
sloping his back towards us and this time the arrow
planted itself in the exact position. At every attempt
those watching turned away, as they were all convinced
that they'd see Marais killed. In the previous shot he is
supposed just to break the glass with a kick, then finally
lose his temper and thrust his bow through the last pane.
He doesn't speak till the whole pane is smashed. The
first time we tried it, the glass didn't break enough. The
next time it flew at the camera and the third time
Marais forgot his lines. But the fourth was all right. But
between each attempt, Property had to put new glass in
the frame, and nail up the ivy again which delay for
such a short scene ends by our only doing four sequences.
I shall have to stop after we've done the close-up of the
hands changing into the Beast's, as Ludovic lets him fall.
Monday, 12 to 8 o'clock.
Berard will place the statue of Diana in the morning;

it will stand in the snow with the treasures lying around
its base. Diana's bow will not have a string. Though when
she draws the arrow back it will look as if the bow is
being bent. You won't see her actually shoot. But just
see the arrow piercing Avenant's back (which we've
already taken), which will be followed by his fall in the
snow (with the Beast's face and hands).
Have seen some rough cuts of the montage. This is an

awkward stage. For I am accustomed to seeing the same
takes four or five times consecutively as in the run
through, and now, in a cut copy, everything seems to be
happening far too quickly. I must get used to this stage
in the work and get a slowness into what seems so brief.
To do this I must wait till I can see more objectively,
when I've forgotten all the personal associations which
Page 122
are attached to each picture. When the film's shot,
Iberia, Jacques Lebreton and I will have all the work of
the mixings to do.
Haven't seen any rushes these last few days as the labs
have closed down completely because the electricity is so
frequently being cut off. Which is just as well for I
tremble to think what would happen if the negatives got
mixed there for we could never take any of it again.
Monday the igth, 11 p.m.
Was taken by force yesterday: driven off to see

Dejobert about the lithographs which I know I shall
never be able to finish (the Deux Travestis: Fantdme de
Marseille and the Numero Barbette). Got on so quickly that
I had finished my stone before D's son had done the
frames. I wanted to get home to go to bed. But out of
luck. Friends came in and it was the only day I could see
them.
140
Got to the studio at 10.30 this morning. Berard

working on the snow set and doing Doudou's make-up.
She is a Creole who loathes this cold and I don't blame
her. Decided to do the same thing in this scene as I did
in Sang d'un Poete. That is, dress the actors at the last
minute with anything that comes to hand. But un
fortunately, it's very difficult to do that with a film of
this scope. Alekan is very worried about the lighting in
this small box set which, though it has height enough,
has no space for the camera recoil. In order that Ara can
go on with the make-up I insist on doing a close-up of
Michel looking frightened to match up with the Beast's
transformation into Avenant.
They lead Doudou on to the set as she can't see: her

own eyes are covered by the statue's false ones. Carrier
Page 123
carries her. She is freezing cold: her skin like goose-
flesh. The lamps gradually warm her up. Alekan is try
ing to make the treasure shine. Doudou didn't get to bed
till seven this morning. She had no idea what routine
film work requires. I can see she's determined to hold out
although she's half asleep.
We get the gear into position using a stand-in draped

in linen. Finally, when we're ready to shoot, Doudou is
carried on to her pedestal again. Now the resistances
have all burnt out. Doudou refuses to get off her throne
again. We make her comfortable with cushions. I'm
afraid she's going to faint. Berard gets excited and starts
shouting.. We repair the resistances. I climb the ladder
fifty times. At last all's ready. We shoot. Now, as a last
straw, the down which we use for snow starts falling
into poor Diana's blind eyes.
'That's torn it/ I thought to myself, 'she won't work

any more, she'll just walk out on us.' But, strangely, it
K 141
seemed to make her more determined to go on. Brought

the camera down, and fixed its rail in the snow. We got
as far as doing where Diana raises her head and shoots the
arrow. It's a difficult thing for her to do because she
can't see and can only guess at the direction. Two takes
were, I thought, all right. But everything depends on
how the eyes and the material we used for the statue turn
out on the screen. However, to our surprise, Doudou has
offered to go through the whole of this devilish scene
again if the run through isn't a success.
Watching her exhausted me. Didn't recover till about

seven o'clock. It was too much to ask her to stand in
position until Avenant breaks through the glass. Shall
use a double for that. Shall manage somehow. If we show
just her shoulders, her legs and the bow, it will probably
pass.
Page 124
Shall do this tomorrow morning and also Jeannot falling

transfixed by the arrow.
After that will tackle the terrace at the Beast's Castle

which the carpenters and painters are now finishing. I'll
have to use the crane for that.
The problem was how to deal with Doudou 's hair.

Marais suggested that we should use his Pontet wig (the
one he wears as the Prince) as he's decided to dye his
own hair for the part. It fits her beautifully. We shall
only have to plaster it with Bavox.
Tuesday the 2Oth, J a.m.
If I'm ever well enough to make a colour film in

Prague as Paulv wants me to, I've found a first-class
subject.
142
Had awful trouble with my eyes the other night as the

arcs had strained them. I worked out the stunt of the
Beast's metamorphosis into Avenant. But shan't do it
yet because we haven't got two Pontet masks. It's going
to be difficult for Marais for he's got to keep his position
to a fraction of an inch yet, at the same time, register
terror. Shall do it by taking several short shots as the
hairs appear on his forehead. I suppose it's cheating. I'll
make one eye up then place the tusks in position. Then
I'll cut the mask into strips which I'll stick on one by one
as though each part were a stab of lightning. Then, when
we accelerate this jigsaw, it will look as if his whole face
is being changed into the Beast's by a rain of blows.
Page 125
Wednesday evening, 11 o'clock.
A mixed day yesterday. At midday saw a run-through of

the exteriors of Diana's Pavilion exactly as I'd hoped
they'd be. At six I saw another which had turned out
precisely as I feared it might. The inside of Diana's
Pavilion. The treasure doesn't shine. Diana aims badly
and her eyes look all wrong in the close-ups. These two
shots ruin the whole thing for me. Between the pro
jections I had shot Avenant' s fall with the Beast's head
and also the shot of his climbing through the smashed
window, with the back of Diana's head just in the picture.
An extra stood in for Doudou. She was a beautiful,
robust, simple girl.
Went to the doctor, He says I am much better in

spite of still being miserably thin and tired. Have been
143
off sugar. He says I can go back to it again. Go home,

sleep badly and think of a way of doing the montage so
that I can do without the shot of Diana aiming. It'll be
far more impressive if one sees only her head and the
beginning of her movement. Will cut just before the
close-up. As to the treasure, will have a talk with the
stunt girl and make her find some way of getting these
precious gems to twinkle. Which I did as soon as I got
to Saint-Maurice and then went and had a look at the
takes of Diana with Claude. Afterwards I tackled the
stalls scene to match up with the stuff I'd done at Roche-
corbon. That is, where the sister's rub their eyes with
onions before going up to cry to Beauty, and where
Avenant and Ludovic come in before they eventually ride
off on Magnificent. Working in these sets which are
reconstructions of places where we have actually been,
I find myself going instinctively towards a door as though
it will lead me into the manor. Then I wake up with a
bang.
Page 126
Telescope five shots into one. Looks as if I can just
do the rest (by running two shots into one). But un
fortunately, Marais stumbles over a line, and as often
happens with the best actor, he fluffs a dozen times on
the same phrase. And this disaster is bedevilled by the
chickens which Clement has to coax on to a certain
definite spot and there convince them with caresses to
stay still.
At last Marais gets over his obstacle. But now it's

Tiquet's turn: he's got his camera all tied up in the cable
and can't pan. Probably the best thing to do is to break
off and send the artists out for a walk. And after an inter
val, have another try at it. Marais manages to get over
his obstacle again, but it's six o'clock. Alekan starts
144
fixing up the lighting for the next episode. I break the

seance up.
Go into the auditorum where Clement is dubbing

Rail. A babble of German, The picture is projected over
and over again. The cast, following the lip movements,
give voice to the phantoms before them. The studio dust
has got into my eyes. Go home to the Palais-Royal.
Thursday evening, 10 o'clock.
Did the scene this morning where Marais goes to the

stable door and sticks his head out. When he did this
at Rochecorbon, the interior was far too dark and didn't
match up. Still start with the Rochecorbon close-up. We
saddled Aramis after lunch and sprinkled 'Angel's hair'
over his mane and tail. Tackled the scene which links
up the one where Marais turns the horse in the court
yard and backs into the stable. Do the bit where he
mounts. Could not do any more as we had a breakdown.
Page 127
Which is just as well because I've just thought of an idea
that will simplify the scene where Ludovic takes the bows
down. In fact I'll have Felicie take the bows down and
bring them, to him. She'll then be ready for the mirror
scene. And Adelaide will only have to enter from the
right as Ludovic goes behind Avenant. Which will show
the sisters' heads and shoulders and the boys' hands and
legs, (as already seen). Ib&ria has shown me the Touraine
take of Aramis rearing. Unfortunately it's no use. It's
too short and badly placed. We'll have to make him rear
tomorrow and have someone handy at his rump in case
he refuses. Prospect of endless difficulties. But somehow

or other each shot gets snatched from the void. None are
easy. It's all patience and effort and it's all dust, plaster
and straw.
I found it impossible to shave myself this morning as

the current's off from seven to eight. So I took my
electric razor to the studio and I'll shave when I get a
chance.
Clement, who is still dubbing Rail, sleeps in Josette's

dressing room at Saint- Maurice. I will join him there to
morrow.
The rushes of Diana's Pavilion are magnificent. I can

now cut the sequence except for the Avenant-Beast stunt
which I shan't do until the last.
Friday the 2 3rd, 9 o'clock.
This morning the current went off at the Palais-Royal

and I had to dress by candle light, and I dare say we shall
get several cuts at the studio. Aramis is very nervous. He
spent the night in his box at Joinville. Thanks to yester
day's breakdown I now manage to do the mirror and bow
scene as planned. Nane's very frightened of the horse.
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Lunch. S. and another Gaumont director came to see a
run-through of several scenes. This was all very import
ant as we've gone over our estimates and Paulve has to
arrange for Gaumont to share a higher percentage of our
costs. Everything went very well. Darbon's relief shows
in his extraordinary kindness. Berard doesn't like the way
the great door at the castle has been shot. So Darbon
146
actually offers to do them again (which is a unique , ges

ture in the history of film producers). Berard hurries to
rearrange the set and the shots will be done tomorrow
morning. Do the stable scene. With the camera fixed
up on a high crane behind the horse focusing on the
boys' backs and on Mila as she opens the door. Will keep
Josette on Aramis up my sleeve until we get a breakdown
and can't do anything else. The unit breaks up. Some curl
up in troughs in the stable, others wander in the court
yard. Find Berard with Carre. He's dealing with the
candelabras for the great hall.
Escoffier brings the boys out to the dressing-room door

one by one as he manages to dress them with whatever
he can lay his hands on. Berard joins us and touches them
up. It's absolutely incredible watching him create Le
Nains and Peter de Hoochs in a few minutes without a
single basic costume to go on. It's a mystery which the
audience won't appreciate because they're used to hired
costumes with their studied, false likenesses. Go back to
the set. It doesn't seem so real as it was when lit by
candles and now we have the job of getting that quality
again, with the arcs. Alekan gets busy on it. Josette's very
brave. She's frightened of Aramis because of Mila's ac
cident in, Touraine and a fall she had herself some time
ago. But I must have a shot of her on the horse and, what's
more, pressing her face to its mane so that I can get away
with the rest with a double. Had to do this four times be
fore we could get the moon on their profiles, Aramis's
mane sparkling like threads of silver and Josette^coming
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in from the left whispering the fairy words 'Go where I
go, Magnificent, Go ! go ! go ! 'Lucile will do the doubling
tomorrow and will complete Josette's movement of
straightening up on the horse as it trots off.
147
If Marais makes Aramis rear tomorrow we shall then

find we are shooting at the studio roof so I order beams,
planks and straw to make a loft. Michel can't be looking
forward to this scene after what happened to him in
Touraine, Marais assures me it will be all right. Certainly,
Michel is so level-headed, charming and gay it won't be
easy to upset him.
Everybody who comes here is utterly amazed at our

unit's freshness. They tell me that this sort of thing is
extraordinarily rare. I wonder why. It must be hell
working surrounded by bad temper, rows and martyr
dom. It was the same when we made V Eternal Retour.
The only thing that worries us is that we shan't be able
to go on working together when the film's finished. I
shall miss everybody including the stage-hands. I don't
know how I shall face the boredom when it's all over,
when nobody says 'Good morning, General' as they do
now when I reach the studio.
Saturday the 24th, 9 o'clock.
A bad day. Did a retake of the Chateau door. But the

decor wasn't ready till eleven owing to yesterday's
breakdown. Which delay threw my whole schedule out;
nevertheless, hope to finish the stable. Made the script
girl double for Josette. The horse left the stable without
any go, any fire in it so I dressed Aramis's groom up as
Josette and then managed to pull off what Corneille calls
'caracole'. The time's getting on. Alekan's nervous.
Persuade Darbon to order Aramis again for Monday
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morning.
In between shots, I took Bresson and Elina to see the

decor of the great hall where Berard is dealing with the
stunt where the real human faces are framed in the
carvings round the chimney piece.
Went to the labs in the evening and saw the silent

pictures of the stable. They're all right. Alekan has man
aged to get a sort of supernatural quality within the
limits of realism ; which is the reality of childhood. The
fairyland without fairies. Fairyland in the kitchen.
Monday the 26th , 10 o'clock.
Have already admitted that I thought it was only just

chat since I've made Marais cover his face and hands with
glue and hair I should suffer similar miseries. I suppose
this is an example of the writer's responsibility which
Sartre talks about. He's quite right. At any rate, I can
claim to be a race apart from those writers who hide
behind their desks. And just as Marais is shot at the end
of the film with an arrow so am I wounded by these cruel
shafts from the arcs which burn my eyes and bring my
forehead and cheeks out in this painful rash. It's unbear
able this evening.
Shot Josette's double on the horse this morning and

then to finish the scene tried to make the horse rear. To
make sure of getting it, I had two cameras shooting from
two different angles. The horse refused three times in
succession. So being superstitious, I left the set where
upon Marais suddenly remembers how to do the trick
pressing with his knees and gently pulling the bit. The
horse stops clear and then, as he can't go backwards any
149
Page 131
further, rears up. Waited outside till the red light went
out and then returned to find they'd got the shot in the
can.
Have a run through of the stuff I saw yesterday with the

sound now added. Lebreton's done a good job and got
both gentleness and strength into the voices.
Berard is dressing or rather I should say disguising the

tavern people. After lunch, grouped them on the set in
one corner on the steps behind the table. Light the
gambier pipes (clay pipes). Distribute Chinese cards.
Alekan lights it. Hang bunches of onions on the wall, and
then show the players their business. Rehearsal. Shoot it.
Pan the camera one man smoking, another in a great
coat, then on to a little girl with her hands folded over
her tummy and finally focus on the table where they're
playing cards. All the people in the scenes know each
other and not one of them looks like a walk-on. It's most
convincing. More convincing than reality. Truer than
truth. Finish up with the usurers' scene with Avenant and
Ludovic. Time on our heels. Actors fluff their lines. Now
we're over the time. Everybody immediately relaxes.
The scene falls together and even a cat wanders through
as if it were at home.
Tuesday the 2Jth, 11 o'clock.
Terrible eye-ache. My eyes are all red and swollen

again. Can hardly open them. An effort to work. A stage
hand's brought me a pair of glasses, which ease my eyes
but don't protect them from the arcs. Tiquet is going to
bring his tomorrow which will do this.
Shot the tavern with all the lascars whom B6rard had
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disguised. It's like a group by Le Nain.
The trouble with me is I'm naive. What I ought to do

is to cut the scenes up into innumerable shots and then
take several in one go. The script girl would then make
a note that, say, twelve shots had been taken. And this
way the producers would be more than satisfied.
Have done the draper's final scene (the one which ends
with the watch in the Beast's mirror) in one take. Run
through of stable sequence. It's quiet with plenty of con
trast to it and quite striking. The shot of Beauty leaning
on Magnificent's neck looks like a drawing of me!
Wednesday the 28th, 8 a.m.
Awful night. My skin seems like hairy leather. My

dreams are becoming confused with my pain. The itch
becomes matted with the horse's mane. Try to part it.
Scratch myself. Wake up tortured.
Am waiting in the car. The great black hall set isn't

ready. So will do the Beauty-Avenant scene which we
missed in Touraine and the one of Josette doing Mila's
hair.
Wednesday, 9 p.m.
Thanks to Tiquet and the stage-hand's glasses with bits

of black cardboard shoved in at the sides, my eyes are no
longer inflamed. As the hall won't be ready until to-
morrow (and then won't have the amis, for Berard is

having the linen that drapes them all remodelled). I've
only got two shots to do.
Page 133
Started a retake of the Touraine shot which I didn't
like of Josette-Jeannot which follows the scene where
Beauty leaves the sisters at dinner.
The new arc crackles. Had to take the scene seven

times. (Overtime from 12.30 midday.) Jourdan, Kique,
Sologne came to see us. Busied myself after lunch pre
paring the Mila-Josette scene with the black decor which
Berard is now working on. For the former it was a
question of taking the glass out of the coral mirror which
we hired from Serge Roche and placing a camera behind
it so that we could shoot Mila when she looks into it as
though it were a mirror. After which, the cameras rise
to Josette who says *I no longer dare'. This mirror cost
a fortune. I unscrewed it and found a sheet of wood be
hind. I cut this on a circular saw in the carpenter's.
When we put the mirror together again, there'll be no
reflection. Awfully difficult shot. Hang the mirror up
with invisible thread. Fix the block. Finally Mila gets in
to position behind the frame and Alekan deals with the
lights. Which trapeze act takes so long that once again
I am near the time limit. Have only nine minutes left.
Aeroplanes. Load the cameras again. Now I've five min
utes. Terrified of another breakdown to interrupt us. At
last we're through. Have asked Lebreton and Bouboule
to record Felicie's voice behind glass so as to give the
audience the impression that they are the mirror. And
at the same time get Beauty in a corresponding position.
Showed the beginning of the film to Sologne, Schlos-

berg, Loulou. But it wasn't their excessive kindness, nor
the praise from the Metro-Goldwyn people which gave
me the most pleasure, but one of the theatre cleaners

who said to Bouboule: 'That's what I call a film/
V Eternal Retour has just won the prize at the International
Congress in Belgium.
Good run through of the stable stuff, the retakes of

the doors and the beginning of the mirror scene (with
Page 134
the usurer and the card game). Shall tackle the great
hall set tomorrow.
Friday the 3Oth, 1O p.m.
Was just going to write these notes in bed when the

current went off again for the fifth time since this morn
ing.
The same thing and tiredness prevented me from keep

ing this diary yesterday. It has been an exhausting and
uninteresting day. Couldn't shoot at all. It had taken too
long to get under way with the black set. What with
getting the boys' heads to stand behind the sculpture and
painting them with Bavox. On top of all this the scaffold
ing and microphones had to be fixed up. At six o'clock
took two tests. One on Kodak and the other on Agfa.
Marcel Andre had been made up ever since the morning
but didn't complain as he's so passionately interested in
everything.
The labs developed them last night and we saw the

results this morning at nine. From which it's plain the
Agfa's black is more supple and its white more crisp.
The set will look magnificent provided we don't light
the angles and leave the shape of the hall undefined, only
making the sculpture stand out in relief (This proves

that Clement, Alekan and Tiquet were, pessimists.)
Having seen this test well now make a start on this huge
set; that is, if the Power Station will permit it. Just as 1
wrote that word, the lights have come on again.
And with that one, they've gone off again. We're

working surrounded by a crowd of American visitors
who, perched on a most precarious lot of steps, seem
fascinated by the stunts.
Page 135
The kids who play the stone heads are incredibly
patient. For they've got most uncomfortable positions,
having to kneel behind the set with their shoulders
fixed in a sort of armour of plastic and resting their hair
which is all gummed and bepowdered against the pillar
with the arc lamps full in their faces. The effect is so
intensely magical that I wonder if the camera can possibly
get it. These heads are alive, they look, they breathe
smoke from their nostrils, they turn following the artists
who are unaware they are being watched. Perhaps as
objects which surround us behave, taking advantage of
the fact that we believe them to be immobile.
Shoot the merchant's arrival (except for the candelabra

which I'll do tomorrow). The fire flames up. The clock
strikes. The table's laid, covered with plates, jugs and
glasses all in the style of Gustave Dore. The whole
bordering on the macabre (like the Gare de Lyon).
From a centre-piece heaped with ivy, pat6 and fruit a
living arm appears to grasp the candlestick. Do close-ups
of the statue watching this scene. And the one where the
arm puts the candlestick down and picks the jug up.
Do a shot of it pouring. (Which I will cut to a close-up
of Marcel looking terrified.) Time's up. Disperse.
Darbon is worried that the film isn't going to be long
i4
enough. I'll take advantage of this and make it longer, by

emphasizing strange details which will underline the un
easy atmosphere. Aldo and some reporters want me to
take my glasses off so that they can photograph me beside
these living statues. The arcs seize the opportunity and
stab me in the eyes. They swell up immediately.
After doing several takes of the heads, I run off for

a few minutes as I often do, leaving Clement to carry on
alone. He and his wife, Bella, are wonderful people.
Whilst Clement directs the head movements, Iberia takes
me off to choose the first shots of Diana's Pavilion.
Page 136
At seven we were shown the end of the film. Thanks

to Alekan, Tiquet, Berard, Michel, Marais (who's ab
solutely first-rate in the scene near the^ table) and to
everyone else, this sequence has turned out enchanting.
Roger Hubert has received a fat bonus from Paulve as

our prize from Belgium. Sologne and Marais may
possibly go to Brussels tomorrow morning.
Saturday evening, December the 1st, 1945.
How ever much I may shut myself up in my own

private world, it's impossible for me not to be interested
in the Nuremburg trial. One can't help hearing Goering's
mad laugh as he slaps his thighs . . . and then suddenly
everything is dark except for the accused who are picked
out with ghostly spots focused on their faces as they're
shown the film of the German atrocities. And now
those who allowed or ordered these horrors from afar
*$$
are made to see it all; and, as they do, they themselves

become decomposed. After the film, Goering looked like
a very old, sick woman.
Worked with Berard on the black decor from 9 a.m.

till 6 p.m. without a break. I'm deliberately allowing
myself the luxury of lingering over details for I've
noticed from the rushes that the film moves almost as
quickly as Les Enjants Tembks and Thomas Vlmposteur. I
must make the sequence in the Beast's castle more re
laxed and isolated so as to give some relief to the rest.
Have come to the conclusion that Alekan's lighting

on the statue heads was too bright and it's that which
makes them look too human. Have started to do it again,
Page 137
having first plastered their heads with dark paint to make
them appear lit by the fire. And this also makes their
eyes shine and makes them look more in keeping with
their surroundings. A magnifying glass on a test shot
proves it's now all right.
Tiquet says it would be a mistake not to have a shot

of the arms holding the candlesticks when Marcel Andre
gets up from the table. I think he's right. So have askecl
him to get on with it. But the trouble is they are not
rigid as in reality they are held by invisible threads.
Carre is faking up some black supports which the stage
hands are making. These won't be visible with the black
wall behind them, and after an hour's delay we again
proceed. This forest of lights looks very strange. Clement
has made the candles burn brightly thanks to a gadget
which somebody blows in the wings. And at last I take
the shot which I'd thought I'd never get. At 6.i I did
another shot which I thought of when looking at the
lion's head carved on the chair arm. I noticed that the
merchant's hand was, as it were, sleeping on the lion's
ir6
head. When the beast's roar is heard in the distance, it

seemed as if the hand woke up and ran away. On Monday
I'll do a shot of the candle stumps in the candelabra from
which I'll cut to Marcel's fear and do his flight.
The arcs have burnt my eyelids again. Burns on top of

burns. I'm paying dearly for this film.
Monday-Tuesday 3 o'clock.
Two frantic days at full pressure. I wonder who would

get as worked up over a film as I do? But it's the only
way as is proved by the violent whirlwind of activity,
dust and lights which I manage to produce. And it's some
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consolation for the interminable waiting, what with
candles refusing to go out even under the tempest of the
wind machine, and with the extras' restrictive Trade
Unionism blocking me at every turn.
We'd been over and over the same scene all the morn
ing. And were just on the point of getting the right
rhythm for the human arms to move their candlesticks
and hold them at the correct angle; when, suddenly,
everybody left their positions merely because they
thought that the take might run over their time by one
minute.
The run-through consoles me. It's both rich and sensi

tive.
Lady Diana and Miss Churchill came and lunched with

us. Showed them the first part of the film. They were
disappointed that they couldn't see it all. (I could see
nothing but my own mistakes.)
Nuremburg trial. The two-and-two-make^four's are

judging the two-and~two-make-five's or even twenty-two.^
These sickening retakes, with all the paraphernalia of

fixing the gear back into position and getting the gadget
to blow the candles out again, are tedious in their detail
but the effect will be I shall project this sequence back-
wards as though the candles were being lit one by one
by an unseen hand. The only reason why I record all
this arrangement and re-arrangement is to show Alekan's,
Tiquet's and Clement's patience and the effort everyone
in this unit is making.
To sit perched up on a pair of steps as I am, and be

able to reconcile so many wills and direct so many de
tails; quelling disorder and dust; calling for action then,
merely because a thread breaks, making everybody do it
all over again, shows our unit has a cohesion and an atti
tude which is becoming very rare in France.
Page 139
My face is red and swollen again this evening. My fore

head sweats and looks as if it's been varnished. Gr&nillon
told Jeannot at Brussels that he'd had the same trouble
for months but it suddenly disappeared overnight.
Wednesday evening.
Another day snatched from pain, spent in this huge

black room from which we emerge looking like chimney
sweeps. Charles Trenet, the Marquise, Rosine and her
son lunched with us. Did a shot in slow motion this morn
ing of Josette coming into the hall under the candelabra.
And from lunch onwards did another slow motion of her
going up the grand staircase. We mounted the camera on

the big crane and followed her up .
Exhaust ourselves putting finishing touches to the

set at the last minute. The dust which the rapid motion
(to make it appear slow on the screen) throws up may
have its own advantages of atmosphere. As Josette goes
along the corridor, one of the female figures carved in
the top of the stairs turns its head to the right, and its
plastered arm lifts the curtain. We made an eighty frame
slow motion shot of this. Tomorrow will tackle the
scene of Beauty and the Beast round the table. And will do
the ensemble before the set's broken up. A run through
(backwards) of the candles being lit as though by magic.
It looks exactly as though it had been taken straight.
Reminds me of M61ies, Robert Houdin or Le Sang d'un
Poete. There's plenty of harshness and strangeness in it,
and a touch of violence too. I like it better than what I
really intended.
Thought of a new sequence tonight which I'll put in.

It will come before the scene where Beauty sees the
Beast drinking. One needs a slow quiet scene there, to
Page 140
emphasize her courage and, at the same time, stress her
simplicity. Place her by the side of the female figure at
the top of the stairs and then make her stand behind the
bust in her chamber. Here the Beast gives her the pearl
necklace which she wears at Epinay and which she hides
in the hunting dogs terrace scene.
Thursday evening.
Things went well. Did the whole of Beauty's first

dinner in the great hall. And the odd shots round the
table in front of the chimney piece, with one of the

living statues and a tracking shot of the Beast standing
behind Josette's chair as he turns to go. He goes through
the arch, turns and closes the iron gate and through it
we see him disappearing down the corridor.
B6rard was there. He did Josette's head-dress (jet

sequins and ostrich feathers) and arranged Jeannot's
cloak. Now Jeannot's made up as the Beast again, he's
back in the same old mood and refuses to lunch. We in
sist and bring him a little minced meat and mashed
potatoes. Had a look at the corridor with B6rard and
marked out where to put the statues. Also we checked
over Beauty's room. Jeannot suggests that we play
Les Parents Terribles instead of Renaud et Armlde at Brussels as
the latter takes so long to rehearse. He phoned de Bray and
Dorziat but there's some difficulty over dates. The boils
are doing their best to return. Endless.
Saturday the ptfo.
Yesterday did the second table scene. Came very close

to my first cut. But did the whole scene in two takes.
Will put the close-ups in this morning. Josette was so
Page 141
tired on Thursday, Alekan was afraid that it would
notice. The rushes betray a suspicious diffusion. The labs
talk about 'intermediary prints' or some other excuse.
In the car, Josette confessed that she was frightened of
being photographed too sharp,
160
Her face looked better yesterday so I asked Alekan to

return to the hard style which I like. Added a peacock
with its feathers to the table. Josette paces up and down
in front of the chimney, her movement followed by the
Statue's eyes. The camera pans across to the clock, then
to the mirror in which you see the Beast's reflection
as he comes down the staircase at the back.
Monday morning, J o'clock.
Shot by shot I know my way through. Am determined

not to give in until I've done what I want to do. I de
cided yesterday that Marais should play Les Parents
Terribles in Brussels and that Reggiani should continue
in Paris while Marais produced Renaud et Armide in Bel
gium and Switzerland. Madame Rolle, director of the
Theatre du Gymnase phoned to say that Reggiani had
signed up for three films and won't be free. Which
means a great financial loss for Marais and me. For I
don't expect there'll be any other free dates. Feuillere
would like to put on Azrael in October after Les Parents.
We can work today, tomorrow, and the day after from

7.30 to .30 as the current cuts have been restored.
After which we shall have to go back to night work which
I prefer. Cold. Twenty-two degrees of frost. Which is a
bit worrying as Josette has to wear the Paquin deshabille
Berard's coming at midday to do her hair and finish the
corridor set.
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Wednesday i 1 1 a.m.
Two days of chaos, as I decided to change the decor,

and going from one set to another creates such havoc with
moving all the gear, that it looks like a cataclysm. To
see a set in ruins is like leaving one's home as a child.
Memories of the old set overwhelm us when we're in
the new one. And so it goes on. It'll be a very sinister
day for us when the film ends.
Started this sequence today which I thought of on

the night of December jth. Berard has put two busts in
the corridor. They are of two Louis XIV Turks in marble.
I shall make Beauty hide behind one. of these when she
sees the Beast walking in the corridor at night as though
in a trance. His hands are smoking and she looks at them
for the first time with horror. The Beast has just made
a kill.
We got the moonlight we were after and the candles

look supernatural enough; but unfortunately the run-
through shows that our film stock must be stale and
needs even more light. I suppose we must resign our
selves to losing a lot of the details which we see when we
shoot: perhaps something beautiful will come out,
though it'll be in a more sombre Style.
Took half a day to get Marais's hands ready. Reminds

one of the ritual the Chinese actors go through,
I shall go on with the corridor tomorrow. And do

Beauty's arrival as she comes up the corridor without
moving her feet thanks to a platform which we pull
on a string. It was the first rushes from this scene which
made Paulve decide to finance us. Marais's birthday.
Carpenters, electricians and dressers brought him a bas
ket of roses with a card 'To our good Beast'.
162
Page 143
Thursday the 13th, 6 p.m.
We're not yet as bad as those princes of Java who, I

hear, rehearsed a dance for five years, but we've been
five hours already making up Marais 's head and hands.
Am writing this in the make-up room. It's six o'clock.

We are shooting at nine. Shooting at night doesn't worry
me very much. It's in line with my dislike for conven
tions. I'm living at the Hotel du Louvre so my sleep
would not be interrupted with phone calls and visitors
as it is at the Palais-Royal. We breakfast at six o'clock in
the evening and keep to that rhythm for the rest of
the night. I came with Marais because I wanted to see
if Carre had broken down the statues which stand at the
top of the stairs. For you can hardly pick them out on the
screen. Which is now taking shape with its net walls, its
decor of rocks a la Mantegna, round which brambles and
thorns protrude, with its bed shaped like a ship with a
boar's head at the prow, with its stone window and iron
door, and grass covering its floor all of which gives me
plenty of scope.
Hope to finish the corridor tonight. And do the magic

mirror scene and the one where the Beast carries Beauty
in his arms into her room which precedes the scene
'What are you doing in my room at such an hour?'
Whilst writing this on the marble-topped table,

Marais with Alekan to help him starts on his head and
tears the shirt with the padded shoulders (for when he's
got his make-up on, his shoulders are out of proportion).
Intend to abandon old stock when we do Beauty's

room. As it loses detail, it was excellent for the hall
scene which we had to keep dark so as to get an oppresive
atmoshpere; but when we come to Beauty's room, we
163
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must give plenty of light as contrast to the rest of the

castle; and this will all help to underline the Beast's
effort to make her comfortable.
Night work reminds me of Christmas as a child when

I was allowed to stay up late, and of the vigil for the
presents and the deep snow with its myriad little lights
surrounding the quiet house. Unfortunately the unit find
it merely exhausting and a nuisance.
I like this factory at Saint-Maurice almost as much

as I liked the nursing home at Saint-Cloud where I wrote
Opium and Les Enfants Terribles. Green's brought me the
proofs of Leviathan. Again I explore the ancient palmarium
of Pozzo di Borgo in the moonlight. And saw Elizabeth
weaving her linen there.
Tonight at Saint-Maurice I wandered alone through

uie corridors and sets, some being built, others de-
nolished. I was as though in a dream. This snow reminds
,ne of Christmas as a child: this light, phosphorescent
.mow carries me far away. It laid a table in my heart.
Saturday the l$th December.
I've never seen a set either in the theatre or in films

to appeal as much to me as this one of Beauty's room
where I'm working now. The studio-hands like it too.
Even the waitresses from the restaurant come and see it
and are thrilled to pieces.
Td like to hear this room described by Edgar Allen

Poe; for it is, as it were, isolated in space with the rem
nants of the forest set on one side, and the beginnings
of the stream set on the other. With the result that
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Page 145
bushes can be seen through its walls of net, suggesting

a whole incomprehensible landscape behind it. Its car
pet is of grass and its furniture in the magnificent bad taste
of Gustave Dore.
Have placed the living statues in niches on both sides

of the door and given them a little box hedge and hung
the candelabra which were held by plastered arms out
side behind the transparent walls. It looks magnificent
in the pale beams of the arc even though they do hurt
my eyes.
We've worked from nine o'clock yesterday evening

to six this morning. And I was at the studio at seven.
I myself arranged the ivy round the bed and set the furni
ture and the things on the dressing table.
It takes such a time getting a set like this ready. It

was three in the morning before I was able to make a
start by doing a panning shot round the room with the
lights following the camera round. In the end, I cut this
shot. Then we did the first part of Josette's entrance
(when the mirror speaks to her). In between these shots
I had a run-through of the moving platform in the cor
ridor and one close-up of Marais which I'll use as a cut
in the scene where he looks at his hand. They're all
right; and one wonders how Josette glides along the
ground without moving her feet.
Slept at the Hotel du Louvre. They were moving

furniture about on the floor above. So I didn't sleep very
well. Went to the Palais-Royal for breakfast at five and
am now writing these notes in the make-up room at
Saint-Maurice.
'Flu. Eczema, caused by the beams from the arc. Don't

know how I shall hold out. There are still three weeks
to go.
Page 146
Sunday.
Worked till seven in the morning. Came home at

eight. In bed by nine. Woken up by Julien Green and
his sister, Anne, who took me out to lunch. Got back
to bed at four. Shall go to the studio tomorrow at seven.
We go back to day work. This alternation between day and
night work makes everything so difficult. Marais has had
to keep his make-up on for fifteen hours at a stretch, with
the result that I daren't ask him to do a single retake. Some
night visitors come and have a look at us working in
Beauty's set, but they soon get tired. They didn't realize
that film work was so hard. They watch for a few min
utes and off they go, exhausted. And we remain to en
dure the martyrdom of the blazing arcs or to freeze
when they're turned off. But it was necessary for a poet
to try and tell a story through the medium of the camera.
It had to be done once. I'm well aware that people
think I'm wasting my tinle, exhausting myself like this
over a film. They are quite wrong.
Tuesday the 18th, 7.30 a.m.
Awful night. This inflammation which invades my

body and devours my armpits causes me the most in
tense suffering. But when I'm working at Saint-Maurice
I manage not to think of it. It's at home that pain
triumphs. The last two days I've been getting worked up
with all sorts of difficulties with Beauty's room. I'm
1 66
wondering how things are turning out and am anxious for

a run-through. But the labs are all behind. And when they
do produce any rushes, they're generally not the ones
you wanted to see. The stock is so hard that it doesn't
seem to be able to get the peculiar, delicate trans
parency of this ethereal room. I used Diot, the assistant
stand-in for the Beast yesterday. He could easily pass for
Page 147
Marais. The mask gives him just the same animal look,
even the same gestures (the way he puts his hands up to
his mask and eyes). Just before the scene 'What are you
doing in my room?' I did a shot of him moving behind
the veils. I was obliged to cut this shot. On the screen
he didn't look like him at all. Beauty, doing her hair,
feels his presence there. After which I did the scene with
Josette to balance up with the one of Jeannot outside
the door. Have already seen this stuff on the screen. It's
magnificent in a way; but for all that, it still worries
me. This morning I must retake a close-up of the Beast
roaring. As it is now, in half length, one doesn't get
the full impact of his eyes. Have yet to do Josette going
out backwards, and I have the scene of Jeannot in her
room to do (the one when he comes in after she dis
appeared by magic and goes to her empty bed and sniffs
the fur coverlet).
Am too run down, and with alternate night and day

work I simply can't see the film objectively as a whole;
though I can see that some of the shots have a kind of
violent beauty to them.
Somehow I must become more serene more like a

flowing river. Must take myself in hand.
It's absolutely hopeless to attempt to answer all the

letters and phone calls from friends. Paul has bought me
a car. And he's looking for a chauffeur. Have just been
167
out in it to get a breath of fresh air away from this filth

that envelops us until it impregnates us.
There's absolutely nothing so terrible as a film which

is shot from beginning to end without a break. We all
expect to collapse before the finish.
Page 148
Thursday the 2Oth December.
Haven't kept these notes regularly because, as we're

near the end of the film, the work is now even more
frantic what with this and the weight of all that has
gone before, it really is an effort to keep going. But I
have tried to get the maximum intensity into even in
cidental shots. Some other company has rented the
studios and is waiting to move in. Joinvillc says that 1 am
going over the electricity quota. In other words, I have
to struggle with difficulties that shouldn't enter my
calculations. But in Beauty's room yesterday I got over
several of these problems. Darbon wants me to finish to
night so, between 9 p.m. and 8 a.m. I will deal with the
whole golden key scene (on the overhanging balcony).
Have done Beauty's disappearance and reappearance.
Had thought of using a double with a deep voice for

Marais's part of the Beast. But I see now that it wouldn't
work. His voice has a peculiar quality that can't be
imitated. As soon as one uses a double for him even
a good one the spell is broken. Jacques Lebreton is
making a filter which will cut out the top and increase
the bass.
We shall finish the actual shooting in a fortnight's

time and that's when, in a sense, my real work will be-
168
gin. For then I've got to cut, do the mixes and synchro
nize Georges 's music. And get both his and my rhythm
into some counterpoint.
I saw the winged horse yesterday in the courtyard

at Saint-Maurice which Berard wants to add to the stream
set. Shall shoot the two sets (each one scene) Monday
afternoon and that will finish Marcel Andre's part.
Page 149
Saturday the 22nd December.
This tedious torture continues. Have an abscess coming

up under a neglected tooth which is driving me complete
ly mad. Got back from work at eight o'clock this morn
ing. Didn't get to bed till nine and at ten woke up in
such a state that I had to throw on some clothes and rush
to a dentist. I suffered so much from my inflammation
and my toothache on the night before last that I couldn't
control myself any more, and went all to pieces and was
quite unable to direct properly. The living statues
fainted in their plaster shells. They were carried into the
air where they came to and insisted on being made up
again; whereupon they returned and fainted a second
time. I got back to the Hotel du Louvre in the morning
only to find I'd been shifted to a miserable room next
to a telephone booth where people shout all the time.
Can't sleep a wink. But thanks to this, have thought of a
way of combining several shots and giving a good finish
to the end of the sequence. Yesterday I cut all the work
we'd done the day before and did this new stuff. Marais
was excellent. The run-through had some beautiful work
169
in it. Went over the designs for the sets for the end of the
film with Brard this afternoon, and he's now given orders
for them to be made up.
It's raining; freezing cold. Am miserable. On Monday

I'll shoot the bailiff and harbour scene.
Christmas Day 1945.
There's never been a proper Christmas since I was a

child. We never get that deep warm snow any more and
I loathe the parody of it. And never again will I sit up
Page 150
all night as I used to. Dined at B's last night, then came
home to bed. Had worked the whole day doing the
lawyer's office and the harbour scene. Finished with
Marcel at five o'clock. Dressed Carrier as the bailiffs'
clerk and turned the stage carpenters into fishermen for
the office scene which, of course, the unions don't allow ;
but they were good enough to waive the matter and the
union officials themselves turned a blind eye to it. All
of which was excellent and these simple people were
perfect in their parts. Berard and Escoffier made cos
tumes for them out of nothing but a few rags. The camera
mounted on a small crane covered Marcel's exit as he
slams the door. In another shot: the meeting on the
square with the bailiff going out of the other door.
Marcel passes him on his horse. The bailiff cries ironic
ally 'Bon voyage'. The horse goes on up the street at the
end of which we can see some ships and houses by the
harbour and then it turns off to the right behind the
fish market. A little boy with a crutch crosses the empty
170
street. Fishermen squatting on the ground arc repairing a

brown net near a woman who sits by her stall heaped with
oysters and fish (Volpere had brought a car full). Every
thing was most relaxed, running as smoothly as a watch.
A run-through at .30 to see the stuff which I took

the night when I made a mess of everything, when the
living statues all fainted and I had to use stand-ins
after Tiquet and Alekan had told me that the best thing
was to scrap the whole night's work. It has turned out
perfect. The statues couldn't be better. Shall keep this
stuff up my sleeve in case the retake which we did isn't
as good. I'm always having to cut bits of intense poetry.
But what else can one do? One mustn't, at any cost, he
seduced by an attractive idea if it hasn't got its right
place.
Whatever happens I must keep the shot of the living

Page 151
statues and will put it in after we pan round Beauty's
room. It is the final shot of the room, looking towards
the door where Beauty is standing. Her eyes move to
the left and I will take over with the camera and thus
balance up with the panning shot.
After the run-through, Berard and I climbed over the

props in the room to get the stream set ready. It's the
last one. I feel most depressed. All this exhausting work
evaporates and leaves us nothing but its memory. These
stages where we have sweated, struggled and suffered
will soon be inhabited by new tenants who will treat us
as intruders.
But here we are at the spring with its dirty water,

rocks, grotto, and dripping wall, with its winged horse
looking across to the swans. And here I suppose I will
once more get worked up, suffer and then forget all
about it.
171
Christmas Day, 11 p.m.
Have just come back from dining at the British Em

bassy where we had a Christmas tree, Georges Auric was
at my table and we talked about the music he's to write.
He'll start next week.
The curiosity that any film arouses can't account for

the astonishing publicity we're getting; it must be due
to the fact that our object wakes some memory in the
public mind. Perhaps they haven't quite forgotten their
childhood and aren't so blase after all? If only we can get
at this essential childishness we shall be all right. What
we're up against is the incredulous reserve that adults
have.
Page 152
Friday the 28th December, 8.30 Saint-Maurice.
What with night work, sleeping all day at the Hotel

du Louvre, and other torments, I haven't been able to
keep these notes for a few days. Will now tackle the
stunt of the Beast turning into Prince Charming. Will
begin by doing the very last bit of it. And tomorrow I'll
cut up the Beast's mask as a start. In case I can't do it this
way, Alekan tried last night to see if it could be done
simply by reflection. Otherwise it will take three hours;
and during that time, Marais mustn't move a fraction of
an inch. Last night I shot the scene where the Beast dies.
We tried to keep the swans in the picture by putting
collars round their necks and tethering them. But they
soon managed to free themselves. And their angry
172
struggles made them look like arabesque figures in a coat-

of-amis. And this chance accident made me see its
possibilities had I thought of it myself, I would have
dismissed the idea as being too difficult. For here the
swans are attacking the beast whose mane and paws hang
limp in the water. With their wings spread, they come on
hissing with fury. And Marais, with his usual courage,
doesn't flinch, but lets them come on; the sight of these
swans attacking their sick master lying helpless and de
prived of all his power, added a terrible pathos to the
scene. I like this set with the winged horse reflected in
the spring's flowing water and the moon lighting a lake
of ink.
Marais gave a striking performance last night of the

Beast drinking. He drank and then spat it out. He actually
drank this disgusting water. No other artist I know would
have done that.
Saturday the 2$th, 8 p.m.

Page 153
Woke at six at the Hotel du Louvre. Had breakfast at

seven at the Palais- Royal and the car's coming to fetch
me at 8.30.
Alekan and Tiquet have had the last twenty-four hours

clear to get the stunt shot ready where Avenant turns in
to the Beast. Marais as Avenant and Diot as the Beast had
each to stay absolutely motionless, one each side of a
glass and superimpose their reflections one on another;
as those of Pasteur were in the Berville shop window of
my childhood.
M 173
Besides that, I shot the model of Diana's Pavilion and

the magic mirror which Beauty holds in her hand. Have
seen a run-through of the bailiff and harbour stuff. Ex
cellent. Have chosen the corridor takes.
Amongst all the chaos of doing the stunt sequence I

suffered as usual from these wretched germs. Tonight
shall try my way of doing it. As I say, Marais will have to
stand completely immobile for three hours whilst he's
made up bit by bit. If he moves even one-eighth of an
inch he'll ruin a take. That's why I've left Alckan to get
on with it. If my idea doesn't work, I'll fall back on his.
Shall try and finish with Josette and just do the retake
of her listening to Marais and the shot where the pearl
necklace forms by magic on the Beast's hand (which will
project backwards in slow motion).
On Wednesday, after the Christmas holiday, made a

start on Prince Charming using Rochester stock which
is softer and yet more precise than the other two kinds.
Clement hopes to shoot the fake clouds out in a court

yard in Saint-Maurice if it doesn't rain.
Page 154
Sun day, $ a.m.
Have just returned from Saint-Maurice. I loathe work

which keeps to a factory schedule. I like improvising with
bits and pieces which stimulate my imagination. Have
spent the whole of last night fighting a slow-motion
camera, a sort of antique sewing machine which has to be
slung upside down and turned backwards and then always
comes off the rails and scratches the film. The wall stunt
174
went off all right except that to start off with, the paper
stuck too quickly and then, being too short, showed the
shape of the door behind it. As a result it was just a night
of tests. Shall have to do the sleight of hand of the pearls
forming on the Beast all over again as the film got
scratched. But I have done Josette's missing shot.
The big crane worked very well in giving the illusion

of a trap door. Josette slowly and gently disappears into
the wall. But what hitches we've had were made up for
by the run-through of the stream sequence which is really
splendid. I think I'll keep Alekan's effort of changing
Avenant into the Beast. Especially the one where the
fangs grow, as the face blurrs and the eyes fill with
shadows and hair. It'll be absolutely first class when cut.
And this will mean I shan't have to do the terrible work
which the way I wanted to do it would have entailed. Am
in a hurry to finish the stream on Wednesday or Thurs
day ; so that I can get on with the rest which is no more
than the optical stunts. Out in the courtyard, whilst I was
struggling with planks and cables, Clement was taking
his clouds which he made with German smoke. If the
negative's scratched, they'll have to do it all over again.
Page 155
Monday.
Here we are at the very last day of 1945". And what

ever happens, whatever squabbles we in France may have
amongst ourselves, we ought to remember that it's
better than the Occupation.
There's nothing I don't know about that. For I'm

occupied now by germs and the new inflammation from
which I now suffer reminds me of the grey canker which
has only just disappeared. God, how grateful Td be if
anybody could liberate me from my occupants. Praise
be to those who cured France of hers. The rest is nothing
but discomfort.
Have been thinking about the credits. What I'll do

is to have a false clapper board made with the credits
painted on it and take a shot of Berard and Auric. Am
trying to find something that will do for the flying cloak.
Misia says there is a kind of rayon satin which hangs well.
If Sert were living, he'd have opened his Ali Baba

coffers for me and I'd have drawn forth all the splendour
I want. But Sert is dead and his door's sealed up.
Wednesday the 2nd January > 1946 , J / p.m.
First days of 1946. I'm eaten alive. Woke up feeling

even worse but have decided to finish my work.
Have only one day and one night left at the studio
to do scenes which really require at least ten. I know how
these schedules work out. It's all right on paper but
quite another thing in practice. Then, a thousand un
foreseen difficulties suddenly arrive, and the end of a film
creates a sort of fever of clumsiness. Everybody falls over
everybody else. And 8.30 in the morning becomes eleven
o'clock. The artists have to be made up one at a time:
Page 156
their hair has to be set; then they go to put their new
costumes on to find they need breaking down. And a stunt
which seems so simple once you've decided how you're
going to do it, produces insurmountable technical prob

lems immediately you attempt it. Will try the impossible
but it seems to me we shall have to have one day's grace
at the studios or else take ourselves elsewhere. Marais
looks supremely elegant as Prince Charming. He made a
sensation when he went into the canteen which was full
of the Collier de la Reine crowd. Have done the first bit of
the scene where Beauty finds her Beast changed into
Prince Charming. Shall do the stunt where he gets up
tomorrow by shooting it backwards.
Thursday the 3rd January.
Am in my little red room at the Palais-Royal looking

at the Gustave Dore piece which I've just had cast in
bronze. It's this group which made me do this film. In
deed it is the film. It's incredible how much a work of art
can influence you. And I'm actually using it as an ornament
in Beauty's room in the Castle.
Holding a steel lance which prises the monster's

jaws, Perseus stands in Bellerophon's stirrups between
the horses' wings with the scales of the monster, which
is part woman, coiled beneath him. The base, in the style
of 1900, is like a great wave and each time I walk into
my room, the steel lance vibrates and the horse and hero
quiver. I want to end the film in this style and shall find
a way of using the clouds which we filmed in the court
yard they are quite fantastic.
Clement and I will perhaps mix the clouds behind the

shot of the couple as they fly to the Prince's Kingdom.
177
Page 157
Friday the 4th January, 7 p.m.
Night work. The last night. I know of nothing so sacl

as a unit that has worked well together breaking up at
the end of a film. Even a stage-hand feels this little death.
The work that we've got left is all very difficult. The
Prince and Beauty going up into the clouds. Beauty
coming through the wall into her father's room. All
stunts. But straightforward ones. Which are the only
kind I like. I invent them as I go along and go all out.
Finished the scene of Prince Charming by the spring

yesterday. Marais as Prince was charming. Ending up with
a shot of him falling backwards which we'll project by
reversing in slow motion so that it will look as though he
rises in a single bound with the grace of another world .
But in spite of all the work they've contributed,. Alckan,
Tiquet and Clement seem to have their minds elsewhere
now though they're still helping me. Clement has to
choose the exteriors for the Noel-Noel film. Alekan is
working on a film with Stroheim. And Tiquet is to work
with him too. We are no longer held within the same
dream. Each of us is beginning to wake up.
In saying that I finish the schedule by tomorrow morn

ing, I still have all the optical work to do. The room for
this work isn't yet free at the labs. And so we have to
hang on and wait until it is ; and on some Sunday, get
Beauty and the Beast together again for the flight shot;
and meanwhile go on cutting the film, knowing that the
finale is missing and has yet to be got into the can.
Will start cutting next week. That is the key to my

work. My handwriting. No one else can do it for me.
Iberia knows what I want and tries to help me but

with this, no one can help. For no one can write my
178
Page 158
signature. But what she does is of enormous help. If it

weren't for her I'd get lost in a coil of films. And she also
lends calmness, grace and discretion.
My germs tortured me less yesterday but now they're

worse again. As soon as I've finished the studio work, I'll
go and see the doctor again. I have done exactly what
he told me to do.
Saturday the 5*A January, 8 o'clock, Saint-Maurice.
Back at Joinville once more. One could feel we were

at the end. Everybody a bit on edge, fidgeting. Several
visitors. The young woman doubling for Josette was too
tall and clumsy the first time she jumped. I thought she
was going to twist her ankle. And on her third attempt
she hurt her toes and fell, dragging Jeannot down with
her. Will have to have all the takes printed and try to use
the stuff we've taken in slow motion after the jump.
In order to make a link, I did a shot of Marais carrying

Josette in his arms. He puts her down. We take a half
shot of them, down to the waist, as they come towards
the camera. This stuff will of course be projected back
wards so that it looks as if they were moving away. Not
much left now, except the transparency shot with the
glass, and the shot through the clouds showing the earth
receding; neither of which can be dealt with at the
moment. Shall start cutting the film, though this final
scene has yet to be done.
Darbon has given us one more night and here we are

again in the make-up room at Saint-Maurice. Will do a
shot of Josette in the wall to cut in between the one we
179
Page 159
did last night of her passing through it. Will also do one
from the wall as she goes across the room to her father.
Will use the little camera with the reverse mechanism and
mount it on the big crane for the final shot of Beauty
and Prince Charming. If I can get a close-up without any
background, at all, I can then superimpose the clouds and
receding earth behind it.
But even so, it's worrying to have to leave things not

quite finished, not all in the can.
Sunday, 4.30 a.m.
Have just finished off the night sequence with a shot

of the glove's shadow on Beauty's face for which we used
both cranes ; and a bird's eye view shot of Beauty and the
Prince flying up, with the stream seen beneath them,
Duverger has had a magnificent new movieola put in

the cutting room for me, which is excellent as I was
worrying about the old one. A movieola is a miniature
projector which you can stop at any one frame and make
it go backwards or forwards .
Will take the shots of B6rard, Auric and myself on

Tuesday (for the credits). And on Monday, will arrange
with Orin when to do the optical work.
Sunday, $ p.m*
Have just woken up after a medley of the most absurd

but entirely coherent dreams. They constitute another
180
Page 160
life which I have to live even to the most trivial details.
I'm no longer upset this morning at the thought of coming
to the end of the film, as I was yesterday at Joinville. The
instinct I have for writing an act of a play to a proper
length without timing it has come to my rescue again.
I feel I've now done what I had to do.
And all that's left of that terrible factory of exciting

toys which have for so long absorbed all our nervous
strength is the magical movieola which reminds me of the
miniature theatre in Monsieur h Vent et Madame la Pluie.
And now, by looking into a little piece of ground glass,
no bigger than a cigarette case, I shall be able to see
all my sets and characters live again. I can start them off
whenever I like and interrupt them whenever I will, as I
can make them go forwards or backwards.
Thanks to the Parisian worker, we are no longer held

up for material. Their genius replaces it. And I use the
word genius in the Stendhalian sense.
I'm always asking stage-hands to do the impossibl e.

'Just a minute' is their reply. Whereupon they disappear
and in a few seconds come back with nails, planks and all
their paraphernalia. They then stare at the job for a few
seconds, muttering to themselves, and then just build it.
They're so interested in their own work, they're often
oblivious of the sound unit's efforts to keep them quiet.
But no sooner has the recording finished than they grab
their hammers and saws and are at it again. I oft en wonder
how seriously they take the actors. I remember a fat
woman in the bus going to Joinville one day was talking
about Le Collier de la Reine. Somebody asked her if she
were an actress. 'Oh, no!' she replied, 'I am an assistant
make-up girl'.
A sort of bivouac has sprung up around a charcoal
181
Page 161
brazier stars and .stage-hands stand around warming
themselves together. And like old campaigners, we tell
of wars won and lost. That is, gossip about the latest
films.
Friday the 1 ith January.
Have finished. In other words, I'm beginning. Now

that I've got all my material, it only remains for me to
merge the sequences with one another, and try and get
a subtle slow rhythm running through it. I must get this
essential quality of a fairy story and avoid ordinary drama
tic tempos. One can't do a stunt here. You can't draw
tears out of a hat. You either move or you don't move.
You either please or you displease. That's all there is to it.
Last Monday I did some work in the optical labs since

we've been crowded out. We did the close-ups which
I'll use as cuts in the final Prince Charming scene. And
also the black velvet stunt. My final shots will be a dis
solve of Beauty running in front of trees and the fall back
wards which will add so much to their flight at the end
of the picture.
Have shot B6rard, Auric and myself for the credits.

At Joinville yesterday I saw a rough cutting copy which
Ib&ria has done. It's difficult to get an impression of the
whole without music, but I can see I shall have to change
some scenes round and break others up: the Beast's
castle, the Merchant's house, the stream and Diana's
Pavilion. But it's terribly difficult for me to decide now
about this film which is so much a part of me. I'm far too
close to the work. Every frame bristles with too many
associations for me to see it objectively.
182
Monday's the day. Let's hope I can see it all clearer

then when I come to tackle the cutting. After which
Page 162
will time it scene by scene, synchronize the dialogue,
attend to the mixings and the music. When it's got some
sort of shape about it, I'll run through to Georges Auric.
Friday the 1 8th January.
Here I am once more in my little red room struck

down by 'flu. It came on me with the suddenness of a tor
nado. Can't get on with the cutting that I was trying to do
in between running to the Theatre du Gymnase for re
hearsals. Now I have to cut, add a re-cut all by telephone.
A temperature of 104 has left me horribly weak, outside
and inside my head tiredness falls like flakes of snow in
those glass balls which one had as a child. Auric's to see
the film at two. Darbon and Clement are going to take
him to Joinville, whilst I have to stay at the Palais-Royal,
impatient and fretting, waiting for them to come back.
Last Sunday, Gaston P. asked Berard and me to dine
with him at the Ministry of War. We were surprised
to find the place actually enjoying the comforts of central
heating. And with so much furniture that it looked like a
^depository.
P. wanted to know why the French film industry's

in such a mess. I told him. I could see he had no idea
things were so bad. It's strange how little those in res
ponsible positions know of actual conditions. Perhaps
this chance visit of ours may do something. One can
never tell in this strange world. P. alarmed me very much
183
by asking me to prepare a confidential report. I told him

Page 163
that it wasn't in nay line but promised to get the various
heads of the studios to do it. They have been complaining
for years and nobody's listened to them. Shall ask Orin
(President of the Technical Commission), Duverger
(Director of Sound at Saint-Maurice) and that perfect
sound technician Jacques Lcbreton all to make a report.
But in my opinion, the situation's hopeless. The only

thing is to bum the existing studios down and scrap all
the industry's existing equipment. Certainly, if France
is to hold her place when colour films get established,
the companies will have to abandon these wretched barns
where we now have to work.
P. spoke of The creation of an artistic tradition* but

one can't do that by just pumping stuff out of a furniture
store. Before they can create an artistic tradition they
must stop taxing artists to death and allow them to live.
What painter in 1946 can even dream of taking a little
country cottage like the Impressionists did? The situation
now is that it doesn't pay us to earn.
M. asked Paul * Why is Jean making a film ? They never

last.' What piffle. What in the world does?
I am not a person who writes to regular hours. I only

write when I have to. And just writing dialogue bores me.
But to grapple with this giant dream machine wrestling
with the light, the equipment, and rescuing time from
the tyranny of space is a job after my own heart. I'm not
saying I achieve anything or that what I do is well done.
But at least Fm proving in a small way that France can
still tackle immense odds. No, what I mean is, we cannot
fight unless we have such enormous difficulties to over
come. We have to remember that in France, and be true
to our tradition. If we don't and start despising what we
184
are, it will be the end. And there'll be nothing left but

Page 164
our epitaph,
* Cinema is not an art. J What confounded nonsense!

If it isn't at the moment, it is only because our sulky
financiers think they're silk- worms and put their clumsy
hoofs through the director's web.
Saturday the lC)th January.
I toss and turn with my face, worrying how I can cut

the last sequence so as to avoid Alekan's weaknesses.
They're not really his fault we're all to blame. The
trouble was that we had to finish up in such a panic of
haste; what with our sets being demolished and other
people waiting to come into the studios. We only see
our mistakes when we stop. For when you're actually
shooting the film, you must not hesitate. If you do, the
rhythm gets lost or you lose the feeling.
I make the most of my insomnia now by going over the

mistakes we've made and thinking up ways so that they
won't be so noticeable when the film's cut.
Tonight I thought of a way of making the Prince's ap

pearance more arresting.
Shall cut after Avenant falls in the snow to Beauty

drawing back crying 'Where is the Beast?' After which
will show the Prince getting up in one shot. Shall have to
suppress the shot of the glove, the hand, and the first one
we did of the Prince which lacks vivacity.
I may finish the whole film on a shot of the snow falling

on Avenant as he lies on the pavilion turned into the
Beast. Will see.
Sunday the 20th January.
Page 165
Feel a little better despite slight pain in the left eye,
but I dare say some other part of me will go wrong sooner
or later. Perhaps the germs are quitting what they've al
ready destroyed. Yes, I suppose that is a possibility.
Darbon phoned me this morning. We are to lunch at

Joinville on Tuesday and synchronize the sisters ' scene.
On Wednesday I'll go and recut the end of the film. I can
hardly live knowing that this bit isn't quite right yet.
France is a nation of individuals and completely unfit

ted for any mobocracy. It is a place that only exceptional
beings can tolerate even if they're only exceptional
scoundrels. Poets can live in France so long as they don't
get embalmed by position and honour.
I have the luck of being one of those people who can

help to prevent that dance of death. And I hope I shall go
on being so (I myself would joyfully die for real liberty).
And perhaps I serve France more closely than those who
talk so much about it.
Tuesday the 22nd, 8 a.m.
Went to Saint-Maurice yesterday 'with Mila, Nane,

Michel and Jeannot. Had an injection of Solucamphor in
the morning. After which I didn't feel the slightest bit
tired. I like Saint-Maurice and feel quite at home there.
Went into the auditorium after lunch and immediately

started work. It was a question of dubbing the girls'
voices to the boys who are imitating them. Ran through
186
the sequence again and again, once with sound and the
rest silent. The girls' lines were projected under the pic
ture. It was easy for them, for the boys were imitating
Page 166
them and they only had to be themselves. I stayed in the
monitoring box, looking at the film through a glass and
listening to it through a loud speaker. It was extremely
funny hearing Nane's voice coming from Michel.
After the draper sequence I corrected some of Mila's

and Nane's fluffs. We were through at five.
Have been to see Raimu working on VEternel Mari.

He's got a terrific presence.
Watching him on the set, I realized just how much

physical beauty can handicap an actor and how a face
full of expression and character can help him. The 'mugs'.
Katherine Hepburn, whom I saw in a film yesterday
evening, is more than beautiful for she has a 'mug'. A
'mug' that catches modulation of the light from outside
and reveals all the subtlety of the light from inside. It is
as though her face had been carved out with a pruning
hook or an axe, yet carved with fantastic delicacy.
Thursday evening, 11 o'clock.
The last twenty-four hours have had a strange foreign

language, perhaps of a Slav origin, going backwards
through my mind. For I>e been watching my characters
living their scenes backwards and have been listening to
them speaking their fantastic language which seems real
enough because, fundamentally, it has the same range
as our own. It's rough, raucous, aggressive and heavy
187
language with all its phrases turned up at the ends. And

it seems so odd coming from the mouths I know with
such amazing fluency. I just had to reverse a handle and
the jabbering roar stops abruptly and is instantly trans
lated into French dialogue.
Page 167
Cutting a film is one of the most interesting jobs there

is. With a pair of scissors and some glue one can, as it
were, correct the life one's lived. One can add, delete,
and alter. One can make one face say something and
another listen to it. You can accelerate a speech or slow
down a gesture.
Friday evening , 1 1 o'clock.
My cold seems worse again. Am coughing and blowing

my nose all the time and can't sleep. Spent the day at
Saint-Maurice. I do like this place. It's an absolute
village on its own and I might say that I have suffered and
lived here in triplicate. Corrected the first three reels in
the morning. Georges Auric came at 2.30. Showed them
to him after lunch and he timed each with a stop watch.
Drive back to Paris with him, where we shut ourselves
up in Madame Rolle's office in the TheStre du Gymnase to
talk over the work. I'd like a choir, a normal orchestra
and a very strange instrumentation for the Beast's Castle.
Having settled on these three styles, we went on to

the stage where they're rehearsing my play, Yvonne de
Bray is admirable even when she's talking quite quietly
and casually.
188
Saturday the 2nd February, 1946.
For several days I have given Saint-Maurice and the

film a miss. For one gets so muddled with the cutting
that I just couldn't see what I was doing. Everything
seemed dull and pointless. Auric J s timing his music.
I'm now haunted by the film, and that is always dis

agreeable. I cough at nights. And then dream that my
Page 168
cough is a mistake in the cutting, and then that all I
have to do to sleep quietly is to cut the cough and gum it
into some other place. I woke up, coughed, and the
dream continued as though I were still asleep. Found
myself cutting my cough but then couldn't manage to get
it into its proper place. Dreams like this and the im
possibility of working on my poem or even answering my
letters have made me decide to break with this man-in-
the-moon existance. I must get this film out of my system
by attending the rehearsals of Les Parents Terribles.
Madame Rolle and the cast are a little cross with me any
how. They call me the Prisoner of Joinville.
This morning I am going to the Discina to see Orin

about the Credits and talk to Alekan about some of the
continuity.
Wednesday the 13th February.
Have got jaundice. Yes, that was about all that was
missing! I am so run down, I suppose, I catch any disease
that's going round. I felt very ill yesterday and I forced
myself to go to Saint-Maurice and try to do some cutting
there. One thing I did was to suppress the long panning

shot of Beauty's room as it was redundant. And I deleted
several others as well.
Les Parents TerriHes which has opened at the Gymnasc

is having a greater success than we expected. But Marais
has a touch of tracheitis and Gabrielle Dorziat has com
pletely lost her voice. Her understudy is on.
The work's going well. So I'm going to get out of

Paris for a change of air. Darbon is taking me to Haute-
Savoie.
If other nations asked France what her armaments were

Page 169
she could reply, that she had none but one secret weapon,
and if they asked her what that was, she could, of course
say that one does not divulge a secret. Yet if they in
sisted, she'd lose nothing by showing her secret because
it is inimitable. The secret of France's secret is her
traditional anarchy.
Time and time again people have tried to organize

France and to lace the country up into one tyranny or
another only to find that the people have slipped through
the wheels of their clumsy mechanism. Although they
often let the sharks gain temporary triumph, they have a
secret spirit which is one of contradiction (the basis
of a creative spirit). And it is this which is always running
counter to official elites, forming a centre of conscious
ness of its own. For centuries France has shown this
hidden resilience, yet we talk about France as being
decadent.
France is always disparaging herself. I possess a copy

of an article written by Musset during a most fertile
period where he bemoans the facts that there are no
poets, novelists or playwrights, and complains that
Madame Malibran can only sing in London because the
190
Paris Opera Is incapable of singing in tune; and the

Comcdie-Franfaise is collapsing under the dust. Old
Corneille used to hire Racine's theatre so that he could
put on his own plays to an empty house ; and at that time
Racine's plays were compared unfavourably with the in
numerable tragedies then produced. The king employed
Moliere as a satirist only in order to irritate his Court
especially his doctors. Except for the Encyclopaedists who
were, so to speak, the first professional men of letters,
France has always let its more virile genius perish of poverty .
Who made this artistic grandeur of France which one talks
so much about? Villon, Nerval, Baudelaire, Rimbaud,
Verlaine. And we know what happened to those gentle
Page 170
men. France could find no place for them. Some died in
the workhouses, others in the gutters.
I'm glad that France doesn't appreciate herself and

runs herself down. For those who think they are poets
have a tendency to live poetically; and those who
think they are princes try to live historically. Both of
which delusions reduce one to ridicule and are expensive
poses to maintain. As Erik Satie used to say: 'Those who
have talent have no time nor need to put on airs.' And he
added the phrase which Fm always quoting: 'It is not
enough to refuse the Legion d'Honneur, the thing is not
to have deserved it ! '
The film evidently is the very opposite to improvisa

tion, it opposes an unscaleable wall to anarchy. Pascal
saw my film last week. * France is the only country where
you could possibly make a film like this,' he said.
Whether it pleases or displeases is another matter, but I
have been able to do it, thanks entirely to a single
backer, and to my unit- not to mention the ingenuity of
the studio-hands, all of which is in line with that tradition
191
of anarchy which enables us to do the exceptional in

spite of the difficulties.
April, 1946.
A film is never finished. There's always something to

do and though a unit breaks up like mercury, it can't re
form in the same manner; which makes it very difficult
to do the tidying up. Now one lias, as it were, to gather
one's unit from the kingdom of shadows as each one
comes back to work on the film, one sees that it is only
a memory to them.
Page 171
Now to a sad studio in Montmartre occupying one
floor of a block of dressing rooms, labs and offices, my
technicians come one after another as if returning to a
dream.
But after a few minutes, our old spirit is back again and
it seems quite natural to us that Marais should come in
dressed as Prince Charming. He's accompanied by a
stand-in for Josette Day. She's to help in one of the stunts
and reinforces the element of dream.
Marais has to jump with this young girl from a stage

twelve feet high down to a piece of grass. We shall
shoot this backwards in slow motion from the top of the
stage ; thus when we project their fall it will appear as the
missing flight which I want for the last shot of the film.
Marais has to jump backwards which is , of course extreme
ly difficult, but he doesn't seem in the least bit afraid.
Though he confessed afterwards that he was worried of
frightening his partner. And at the last minute she funked
192
the jump, whilst we went on shooting nothing at top

speed. Finally she screwed up her courage but fell clumsi
ly on her leg and didn't want to try again. Marais managed
to persuade her. They tried it three times impossible to
shoot a fourth take. Anyhow it doesn't matter; I've got
all I need.
One final shot: the rose illumined.
Next day at Saint-Maurice for the sound effects.
Nothing so fascinating as watching a job well done.

Rauzenat, the effects man, enjoys his work and gets much
amusement out of it. Some of these sound men produce
their effects by snapping three fingers or breaking twigs
and matches into the microphone. But Rauzenat does it
all with his hands, feet and mouth. For a galloping horse,
he strikes his chest and stomach. Shut up in a sound cabin
Page 172
I can hear him at it, and through the little window can
see him executing a sort of ritual dance before the micro
phone.
After which I went to the stunt lab at Mont-Voisin

and gave precise directions for the innumerable optical
effects required in Marais 's metamorphosis into the
Beast. The one I've already done isn't satisfactory.
Now for the music. I have refused to hear any of the

stuff whilst Georges Auric was composing it. I wanted
the full effect to be a surprise. After years of working
together I have absolute confidence in what he'll turn out.
Will record from 8 a.m. until five at Maison de la

Chimie. This is the most moving moment of all for me.
For in my opinion, however, a film like mine will not
depend all that much upon the music. Desormikres is to
conduct. Jacques Lebreton to arrange the players and the
choirs. The microphone is on a long arm in the centre of
the hall. The screen on to which we will project the film
193
hangs behind the orchestra. No doubt it will look very

muddy as the supply is at half-voltage and the projector
isn't much good. But no matter. All is silent now, and
here are the three white flicks which come before the
film. And here it is with this quite fantastic synchroniza
tion by which, at my request, Georges Auric has not kept
to the rhythm of the film but cut across it, so that when
film and music come together it seems as though by the
grace of God.
At first this new element worried me. Then bewilder

ed me, and finally convinced me. I had, without realiz
ing, made a kind of music myself and it seemed to me that
the orchestra was always running counter to it. But
gradually Auric triumphs over my ridiculous embarrass
ment. My music makes way for his and is wedded to the
Page 173
film; it impregnates it, consummates it. The Beast en
chants us till we sleep and this music is the dream within
our sleep.
I watch. I listen as though standing in my sleep in the

cabin where Jacques Lebreton stands beside me turning
his controls to direct the ship. The choirs are badly
placed. Lebreton will find them right positions to
morrow. He mixes them in with the orchestra. In a fort
night's time, I will record this first attempt again.
What's so astonishing for me as I watch from my diving

bell is the accidental synchronization which does oc
casionally occur. If the conductor is out half a second, the
spell is broken. Sometimes when they are matched, it
seems to light the picture. At other times, it gives the
effect of flattening it. What I must do is to make notes of
this and reproduce the accident by design. Sometimes a
burst from the choir envelops a close-up, isolates it and
cancels its effects. At other times it focuses for me; and
194
the orchestra seems to quicken the tempo of a sequence.
In Le Sang cf an Poete I changed the musical sequence

where it became too closely related to the picture. This
time I shall respect the sequence but I shall direct its use
more precisely. The result will be a counterpoint. That
is to say, they will not run together both saying the same
thing at the same time, neutralizing each other.
Indeed, I will deal with this resolutely and shall not

hesitate to suppress the music in certain passages where
it makes the imagination stick. By doing this it will be
even more noticeable when it is heard and the silent
sequences will not form a void since they contain a music
of their own. (Which would have been another matter if
Page 174
Auric had to decide the cuts.)
Saturday the 1st June,
Am writing these last lines of this diary in a country-

house, where I am hiding from bells of all kinds. Door
bells, phone bells and the Rouge est mis.
Decided to quit as soon as the film was finished. And

it was yesterday that I showed it for the first time to the
studio technicians at Joinville.
Its announcement, written on a blackboard, caused

quite a stir at Saint-Maurice. They had filled up quite a
theatre with benches and chairs. Lacombe had even post
poned his shooting so that his unit and artists could attend.
At 6.30 Marlene Dietrich was seated beside me. I tried

to get up to say a few words, but the accumulation of all
those minutes which had led to this one moment quite
195
paralysed me and I was almost incapable of speech. I sat

watching the film, holding Marlcne's hand, crushing it
without noticing what I was doing. The film unwound
and sparkled like a far-off star something apart and in
sensible to me. For it had killed me. It now rejected me
and lived its own life. And the only thing I could see in it
were the memories of the suffering which were attached
to every foot. I couldn't believe that others would even
be able to follow its story. I felt they too would become
involved in these activities of my imagination.
But the reception of this audience of technicians was

quite unforgettable. And that was my reward. Whatever
happens, I shall never get such a touching reception as I
did from this little village whose industry is the canning
Page 175
of dreams.
After it, I dined at the Palais-Royal with Berard, Boris,

Auric, Jean Marais and Claude Iberia, And we swore
always to work together. Let's hope we may.
196
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
By MME LEPRINCE DE BEAUMONT*
ONCE upon a time, there lived a very rich mer

chant who had six children, three hoys and three
girls . And as he was a wise man he spared his children nothing
for their education, and provided them with several
tutors. The elder daughters were very beautiful; but the
youngest was more beautiful still. As a child she was al
ways called 'Little Beauty' ; and her sisters were very
jealous because this name stuck to her. Not only was the
youngest more beautiful, but also kinder and more mod
est. Her sisters were both very proud merely because
they were rich; they put on airs, behaving like ladies of
fashion, fawning after people of high society, and spurn
ing to know girls of their own class. They spent their
time promenading about, going to balls and plays, and
looked down on their young sister who spent most of her
time reading at home. As the whole town knew that
these two girls were very rich, several important mer
chants asked for their hand in marriage; but they re
fused such offers because they were looking for a Duke,
or at least a Count. Whereas Beauty (for as I said, that
Page 176
was what the youngest was called) would thank those
* Born at Rouen in 1711. Died near Annecy 1780,
199
who wished to marry her, but always refused ; saying that

she wanted to look after her father for a few more years.
Then suddenly the merchant lost all his wealth and

nothing remained of his estate but a little country house
a good way from the town. Weeping he told his children
that there was nothing left but to go and live there, add
ing that if they all worked like peasants they might man
age to survive. To which the two eldest daughters replied
that they did not wish to leave the town, and that any
how, fortune or no fortune, they both had several suitors
who were only too anxious to marry them; but in this,
of course, they were mistaken; for their wealth had been
their only attraction. As they had always been so proud,
people said: 'They don't deserve to be pitied. It's just
as well that they've been taken down a peg. Perhaps the
sheep which they now have to tend will appreciate their
fine airs!' But on the other hand, everybody pitied
Beauty's misfortune, saying how sorry they were that
this should happen to such a good girl who had always
been so charitable and kind to the poor.
And though Beauty was as penniless as the others, even

so, several gentlemen still continued to court her; but
she discouraged their attentions saying she could not
possibly leave her father now he was so worried and that
she intended to go and look after him in the country.
At first she, too, had been very upset at losing her for
tune. But she soon realized that weeping would not re
deem it, and resolved to try and be happy without money.
When they were settled in their little country house,

the merchant and his three sons spent all their time
working the fields. Beauty used to get up at four o'clock
in the morning, clean the home and prepare the family
Page 177
dinner. At first she found it very hard, for she was not
used to working like a servant ; but after a time she be
came stronger and the work even made her healthier.
Of an evening, when her work was finished, she would
200
read, play the harpsichord, or sing at the spinning wheel.

But her sisters were bored to death ; they rose at ten in
the morning, strolled about all day, and passed their
time bemoaning the loss of their beautiful clothes and
gay companions. And they used to try and undermine
Beauty's contentment by saying 'It's only because you're
so stupid that you are content to live as a peasant.' But
the merchant did not agree with them. For he knew that
Beauty was far more intelligent than her sisters and he
admired the patience of his youngest daughter, who not
only did the chores of the house but tolerated her sisters'
taunts and insults.
The merchant and his family had been living like this
for a year, when one day he received a letter informing
him that one of his boats, which he had believed lost, had
reached port loaded with merchandise. This news went
straight to the heads of the two oldest daughters, who
immediately saw themselves being able to leave the little
house where they were so bored. As their father started
off for the harbour, they anticipated their new fortune
by asking him to bring them back dresses, fur tippets and
baubles of every kind. But Beauty didn't ask for anything,
for she could see that the merchant would have no money
left once he had carried out her sisters' commissions.
'But don't you want anything?' her father asked her.
She hesitated and then said: 'I beg of you to bring me

a rose for none grow here.'
Page 178
She didn't really want a rose and had only asked for
one rather than ask for nothing, for she felt that if she
had done that, her sisters would have turned on her for
being indifferent and for making an example of them.
The good man rode off; but when he arrived he found
that all his goods had been distrained by his creditors ;
and after all his efforts had failed, he set off as poor as
when he had arrived. When he had still thirty miles to
go to reach his house, he began to rejoice at the thought
201
of seeing his children again ; when he came to a great

wood in which he lost his way. It was snowing heavily
and the blizzard was so strong that twice he was almost
blown from his horse. As night began to fall, he thought
he would either perish from exposure or be eaten by the
wolves he could hear baying around him. Suddenly,
through the trees, he saw a bright light shining in the dis
tance. He turned and led his horse towards it, and dis
covered that the light came from a great castle. The mer
chant uttered a prayer for his delivery and hurried to
wards it ; but to his surprise he found no one in the court
yard. But his horse found a great open stable full of hay
and straw, and as the poor animal was nearly dead with
exhaustion, its head was soon buried in the fodder. The
merchant tied it up in the stable and then entered the
castle, where he could find nobody; then he came to a
great hall where a log fire burned in the hearth, and a
table stood loaded with food, but laid only for one. As
the poor man was soaked to the skin, he went to dry him
self by the fire, thinking that the master of the house
would surely forgive him the liberty he was taking, and
would, no doubt, soon appear. He waited for a consider
able time, but when eleven o'clock struck and he had
still seen nobody, and being unable to resist the pangs
of hunger any longer, he took a chicken from the table,
which he ate in two mouthfuls, trembling as he did so.
He also drank several glasses of wine, and then, becoming
bolder, left the hall and explored several great rooms,
Page 179
which he found magnificently furnished. Finally he came
to a room which contained a wonderful bed, and, as it
was past midnight, and he was so tired, he took the
liberty of closing the door and lying down there.
It was ten o'clock in the morning before he awoke,

and to his surprise, he found a clean coat in the place of
his old one. * Assuredly', he said to himself, *this castle
must belong to some good fairy who has had pity on me.'
202
Looking out of the window, he found that all the snow

had[ disappeared, revealing beds of flowersjfto enchant his
sight. He returned to the great hall where he had supped
on the previous night, to find a little table laid with
a cup of hot chocolate. 'Thank you, Madame Fairy/ he
said aloud, 'for being so kind to think of my breakfast.'
When the good man had drunk his chocolate, he went
out to see to his horse ; and passing beneath a bower of
roses he suddenly remembered Beauty's request. He
stopped to pluck one, for there were so many. At that
moment he heard a terrible roar, and looking up saw a
hideous beast, so horrible that the merchant nearly
fainted at the sight. 'How ungrateful you are/ said the
Beast, in a terrible voice. 'I saved your life by taking you
into my castle, and in return for my hospitality, I find
you stealing my roses, which I love better than anything
in the whole world ; you must therefore die to expiate
this crime and I shall give you only a quarter of an. hour
to make your peace with God. ' The poor merchant threw
himself on his knees, wringing his hands: "My lord/ he
pleaded, 'I did not think I would offend so gravely by
plucking a rose for my daughter who had asked me to
bring her one.'
'I am not a lord/ replied the monster, 'I am a Beast.

I do not like compliments. I prefer people who say what
they think, and you do not move me with your flattery.
But since you tell me you have some daughters I will for
Page 180
give you on condition that one of them comes here
willingly to die in your place. Do not argue with me; go
immediately but before you do, swear that you will re
turn in three months if one of your daughters does not
come meanwhile to die in your place/
The good man had no intention of sarcificing one of his

precious children to this ugly monster, but thinking that
this would at least give him the pleasure of embracing
them once more, he swore that he would return; upon
which the Beast told him he could leave when he wished.

'But/ he added, 'I do not wish you to return empty
handed. Go back to the room where you slept ; there you
will find a great empty chest. You may fill it with any
thing you see, and I will have it carried to your house.'
At this, the Beast withdrew, leaving the poor man saying
to himself 'If I am to die I shall at least now have the con
solation of leaving my children provided for/
He returned to the chamber where he had slept and

filled the great chest with a huge quantity of gold and
closed it down. Then he saddled his horse in the stable,
and rode from the castle feeling as sad as he had been
happy when he found it the previous evening. His horse
now found its way through the forest paths, and within
a few hours, the good man reached his home again. His
children gathered round him excitedly; but instead of
responding to their kisses, the merchant began to weep
as he looked down on them. Holding out the rose which
he had brought for Beauty, he gave it to her and said;
'Here you are, Beauty, take this rose. It has cost your
father very dear/ Whereupon he told his family of his
mysterious adventure. After this recital, his two elder
daughters turned on Beauty and heaped all the blame up
on her. 'See/ they cried, What this little missy's pride
has brought us to! Why couldn't she ask for sensible
things as we did! But oh no, Miss Beauty must always
be different. And now that she has been the means
of condemning our father to death, she doesn't even
Page 181
weep.'
'What good would that do?' Beauty replied, 'and be

sides, why should I weep for my father's death since he
need not perish ; for the monster is willing to accept one
of his daughters in his place and I intend to deliver myself
to his fury, and am thankful for the opportunity ; since,
in dying to save him, I shall prove I love him/ But her
brothers would have none of this.
204
'You shall not go,* they cried, 'we will go, and find
this monster and if we cannot kill him we will perish
in the attempt/
'It is useless to try,' said the merchant, 'for this

Beast's power is so great you have no chance of destroy
ing him. I am deeply touched by Beauty's willingness to
go, but I will not permit it. I am already old and have
only a short time to live ; at the worst I shall be losing only
a few years of my life, which I shall not regret as it is
for your sakes, my dear children.'
'You shall not go back to the castle without me,' said

Beauty. 'And you cannot prevent me from following you.
I am not attached to life although I am young ; and I would
rather be devoured by this monster than die of the grief
your death would cause me. '
In spite of her father's refusal, Beauty insisted that she

would go to the mysterious castle, and her sisters were
delighted at her decision ; because her virtue always ag
gravated them, and made them furious with jealousy.
The merchant was so occupied with his grief at the
thought of losing his daughter that he forgot all about
the chest he had filled with gold ; but when he went to
bed that night, he was astonished to find it there in the
room. He decided not to tell his children of his new
wealth, because he knew that his two elder daughters
Page 182
would immediately wish to return to the town, and he
had resolved to die in the country; but he confided in
Beauty, who told him that several gentlemen had called
at the house during his absence, two of whom had been
to pay suit to her sisters. She begged her father to en-
dower them ; for she was so good, she loved them with
all her heart in spite of the evil they had done her.
These two wicked girls then rubbed their eyes with
onions so that they could feign tears when Beauty
set out with her father; but her brothers wept as
genuinely as the merchant. Beauty, alone, did not weep,
because she did not wish to add her grief to theirs.
The horse took the same road back to the castle, and
by evening they saw it ahead of them, illuminated as it
was the first time. Again the horse went of its own accord
to the stable, and the good man entered the great hall
with his daughter where they found a table, magnificent
ly dressed and laid with two places. The merchant hadn't
the heart to eat; but Beauty, rretending to be at ease, sat
down at the table and served her father; then she said
to herself 'I suppose the Beast gives me such good food
because he wants to fatten me up before eating me. '
When they had supped, they heard a great roar and the
merchant, knowing it was the Beast, wept and began to
say farewell to his daughter. When Beauty saw the
Beast's hideous face she could not stop herself from
trembling; but she tried to control her fear, and when
the monster asked her if she had come willingly, she re
plied that that was so.
'That is good of you,' said the Beast, 'and I am much

obliged.' Then, turning to her father, he said: 'You must
leave tomorrow morning and never try to return/
Then he wished Beauty good night and immediately
withdrew.
1 Oh my daughter,' cried the merchant, embracing

Page 183
Beauty, l l am already half dead with fear. I beg of you
to go and leave me here.'
'No, Father,' said Beauty, with all firmness, c you must

leave tomorrow morning, and perhaps heaven will have
pity on me.'
They went to bed, thinking that they would not sleep

at all, but hardly had their heads touched the pillows,
than they sank into a deep slumber. During her dream,
Beauty saw a lady who said to her: *I am pleased with
your virtue, Beauty; your sacrifice in giving up your life
to save your father's will not go without reward.' When
she awoke, Beauty told her father of this dream, and
206
though she was consoled by it, he uttered a groan of

remorse, as he came to separate himself from his beloved
daughter.
When he had gone, Beauty sat down in the great hall,

and began to weep too ; but as she had a great deal of
courage, she gave herself up to God, resolving not to
grieve during the little time she had left to live. For she
was now resigned to the fact that the Beast would devour
her that evening. Whilst waiting she decided to go for a
walk, and explore this beautiful castle. Even in her dis
tress she could not help admiring its grandeur ; then, to
her surprise, she saw a door, on which was written,
Beauty s Apartment. She immediately opened it and was
dazzled by its elegance. But what pleased her most was a
huge bookcase, a harpsichord, and her favourite volumes
of music. 'I can see no one wants me to be bored/ she
said to herself, and then wondered why such pains had
been taken to make her comfortable if she had only that
day to live. This thought revived her courage. She opened
the bookcase and saw a book in which, in letters of gold,
were written these words : Desire, command ; here, you are
the Queen; jou are the mistress. 'Alas/ she whispered to
Page 184
herself, *the only thing I wish is to see my father and
to know how he is at the moment.' And as she said this,
she glanced into a great mirror, and to her amazement,
saw her home in it, with the father just arriving there,
looking extremely sad. She watched and saw her sisters
run to meet him ; and in spite of all the grimaces they
made to appear distressed, the joy they felt at the loss of
their sister was plainly written on their faces. After a
moment, the mirror cleared. Beauty began to think that
the Beast was not so cruel after all, and perhaps she might
not have anything to fear. At midday she found the table
laid, and whilst she ate the meal, she listened to an ex
quisite concert, although she could not see any players.
But in the evening, as she was about to sit at the table she
207
again heard the Beast's roar, and in spite of herself, she

shivered with terror.
'Beauty,' said the monster, 'will you be gracious

enough to let me watch you sup?'
'You are the master here/ she cried, trembling.
'No/ replied the Beast, 'I am your servant. If I weary

you, you have only to tell me to go away, and I shall do so
at once. I suppose you find me very ugly, don't you?'
That is true/ said Beauty, 'for I do not know how to

lie; hut I think that you are very kind/
'You are right/ said the Beast; 'but not only am I ex

tremely ugly, I am also simple. And I know very well I am
only a Beast/
'You can't be so simple/ Beauty replied, *if you say

you are, for fools never recognize their stupidity. '
Then eat, Beauty/ said the monster, 'and try not to

Page 185
be sad in your house; for everything here is yours, and I
shall grieve if you are not happy/
'You are very hospitable/ said Beauty. 'I must confess

that your kindness pleases me ; and when I come to think
of it, you no longer seem so ugly/
'Yes, Beauty, I have a good heart, but for all that, I am

a Beast/
'Many men are more bestial than you/ Beauty re

plied. 'And I like you with your head better than those
who, beneath a man's face, hide a false, evil and inhuman
heart/
If I were not so stupid/ he replied, 'I would compli

ment you, but as I am, all I can say is, thank you/
Beauty enjoyed her supper, for she no longer feared

the monster so much ; but she nearly died with terror
when he suddenly said to her: 'Beauty, will you be my
wife?' For a long time she made no answer, for she was
afraid that her refusal might arouse his wratk But finally
she summoned up the courage to whisper 'No, Beast/
And the poor monster's sigh echoed round the castle;
208
but Beauty had no need to fear, for the Beast turned to

her sadly and bade her farewell, then slowly walked out
of the room, turning back at the door to look pathetic
ally at her. Once Beauty was alone, she was overwhelmed
with sympathy for this poor Beast. 'What a pity,' she
said to herself, 'that he is so ugly, for he is very kind ! '
Beauty passed three peaceful months in the castle.

Every evening the Beast came to watch her eat her supper,
Page 186
and though he would talk good enough sense, he never
displayed what the world would call wit. And each day,
Beauty discovered fresh signs of the monster's kindness;
from seeing him every day, she had grown accustomed to
his ugliness and she no longer feared his visits ; and, in
deed, she began to look forward to them: constantly
looking at her watch to see when it would be nine o'clock
for the Beast never failed to appear at that time. The only
thing that caused Beauty any distress was that before the
monster disappeared every evening, he always asked her
if she would be his wife ; and when she refused, he looked
as though in pain with grief. One day she said to him:
'You cause me much distress. I would like to marry you,
Beast, but I have too much respect for you to make you
believe that that could ever happen. But I shall always be
your friend ; you must try to content yourself with that.'
'Yes, I must/ replied the Beast, 'for in truth, I know I

am most horrible to look at, though I love you so very
much; nevertheless, I shall be happy so long as you re
main here. Promise me that you will never leave me.'
Beauty blushed at these words; for in the mirror in

her room, she had seen that her father was ill and pining
away at losing her; and consequently, at that moment
she was wishing to leave the castle and return to him.
*I could/ she said, eventually, 'promise never to leave
you altogether; but I am so homesick to see my father
that I shall die if you refuse me that pleasure.'
<j wou ld rather die myself/ said the Beast 'than cause
209
you any unhappiness ; I shall send you home to your father,

where you will stay and It will then be your poor Beast
who will pine away at your loss.'
Then Beauty began to weep, and weeping, said *I like

you too much to make you suffer so, and I promise to
Page 187
return in a week. You have let me see in your mirror
that my sisters are now married, and that my brothers have
gone away with the army; so my father is all alone. Do
allow me to remain with him for just one week/
'Tomorrow morning you will be there 1 said the Beast,

'but remember your promise. You have only to lay your
ring on the table when you go to bed, and you will re
turn. Farewell, Beauty/
With these words he sighed, as he often did, and

Beauty went to bed very sad, at having saddened him.
When she woke up in the morning, she found herself
in her father's house, and, ringing a bell which was be
side her bed, a maid entered, who cried out in surprise
at seeing her. At this the good merchant ran up to her
room and was overwhelmed with joy at the sight of his
daughter, and for more than a quarter of an hour they
embraced each other. Then Beauty realized that she had
no clothes ; but the maid told her that she had just found
a huge chest in the next room full of dresses embroidered
with gold and studded with diamonds. Beauty thanked
her good Beast for his forethought, and taking the most
modest dress for herself, she told the maid she wished
to give the others to her sisters; whereupon the chest
immediately disappeared.
Her father warned her that this was a sign that the
Beast wished her to keep the dresses for herself, and no
sooner had he said this, than they appeared again. Whilst
Beauty dressed herself, she sent a message to her sis
ters who, with their husbands, came hurrying to the
house. The eldest had married a man who was as beauti
ful as Adonis, but as he was so much in love with his own
210
face, busy admiring it from morning till night, he had no

Page 188
time to admire his wife. The second had married a man
who had considerable wit, with which he used to tease
and annoy everyone, beginning with his wife. Beauty's
sisters were nearly consumed with jealousy when they
saw her dressed like a princess and more radiant than the
day. And though she welcomed them with such tender
ness, they could not stifle their spite, which became more
venomous as she told them of the happiness she had found.
Then these two jealous sisters took themselves into the
garden to give full vent to their bitterness. 'Why should
that little hussy be happier than we, when we are so much
more lovable than she?' said one.
'Sister, J said the other, 'an idea has occurred to me.

Let us try and keep her here beyond the week. If we
can do that, her stupid Beast will become so angry with
her for breaking her promise, he will probably devour
her.'
'That's a good idea,' replied the other. 'To do that,

we had best make a great fuss of her.'
With this scheme in mind they immediately went up

stairs again and feigned so much affection towards their
sister, that Beauty wept at the pleasure they gave her.
And when the week was nearly over, these crafty sisters
tore their hair, pretending to be so distraught at her go
ing that she promised to stay for one more week.
Nevertheless, Beauty reproached herself for the un-

happiness she was causing her poor Beast whom she now
loved with all her heart, and whom she longed to see
again. On the tenth night at her father's home, she
dreamt that she was back in the castle garden, and that
she saw the Beast lying prostrate on the grass about to die,
and reproaching her for her ingratitude. Beauty woke and
wept.
4 How wicked I am,' she said to herself, 'to make a

Beast suffer so when he has been so kind to me. It is not
Page 189
211
his fault that he is so ugly or so simple. He is kind, which,

of itself, is worth all the rest. Why did I refuse to marry
him? I should be happier with him than my sisters are
with their husbands, for it is neither beauty nor wit in a
husband which makes his wife content ; it is their good
ness of character, their kindness and their care ; and the
Beast has just these three qualities. Though I am not in
love with him, yet I respect him and feel love towards
him. I must not make him unhappy. If I do, I shall re
proach myself all my life.'
With this, she got up and placed the ring on the table
and got back to bed, and very soon was asleep. When she
woke in the mornjng it was with joy that she found her
self back in the Beast's castle. She dressed herself magnifi
cently to please him, and then waited impatiently through
the day for nine o'clock ; but when the clock struck that
hour, the Beast failed to appear. The thought then oc
curred to her that perhaps she had already caused his
death. Frantically, she ran through the castle, loudly
calling his name. After searching everywhere, she sudden
ly remembered her dream, and ran down the garden to
the moat where she had seen him lying. There she found
the poor Beast lying unconscious on his back. And be
lieving him to be dead, she threw herself on his body, no
longer feeling any revulsion at his appearance. And as she
lay there she felt his heart still beating, so taking some
water from the moat, she revived him by sprinkling it on
his forehead. Then the Beast opened his eyes, 'You for
got your promise/ he said, 'and my remorse at losing
you made me no longer want to live ; but I shall now die
content since you have given me the pleasure of seeing
you once again.'
'Oh my dear Beast, you must not die/ cried Beauty,

*but live to marry me ; for I now give you my hand and
swear that I will be yours alone. I thought that it was only
Page 190
friendship that I felt for you, but the grief I felt when I
212
thought you were dead made me see that I cannot live

without you.'
No sooner had Beauty said these words than the whole

castle lit up; with fireworks and music. But Beauty paid
little attention to them, she turned her eyes back to her
Beast, for whose health she still trembled, and to her
amazement, the Beast had disappeared and she saw a
Prince more beautiful than Love himself, lying at her
feet. The Prince began to thank her for breaking the spell
under which he had laid for so many years. And though
he deserved all her attentions she could not help herself
from interrupting him to ask where her poor Beast was.
'You see him at your feet/ replied the Prince, 'a

wicked fairy had cast a spell on me that I had to remain
disguised as a simple beast until a beautiful girl consented
to marry me. No one in the world but you had virtue
enough to see what goodness there was in me, and though
I offer you my crown I cannot repay the debt I owe you. '
Beauty, delightfully surprised, gave her hand to lift

this beautiful Prince from the ground. Together they went
inside the castle, and to her joy, she found her father and
all her family there in the great hall, where they had
been transported by the beautiful fairy who had first
appeared to Beauty in her dream. 'Beauty/ said the fairy,
*come and receive the reward for the choice you have
made ; you have preferred virtue to beauty and wit, and
you now deserve to find all these qualities in the one you
love. You will become a great queen; may your throne
not destroy your virtue. '
'But as for you/ said the fairy, turning to Beauty's

elder sisters, *I know your little hearts and all the malice
they contain. You will become two statues, yet keep
Page 191
your reason within the stone that shall embalm you.
You will stand for ever at the gate of your sister's castle
and I impose no other punishment on you but this: that
you must watch and witness her happiness. But you can
213
break the spell the moment you recognize your own faults
and I'm very much afraid you will always remain as
statues. For though you may correct your pride, your
bad temper, greediness and sloth, only a miracle can
take envy from your heart.'
At that moment the fairy waved her wand and all the
others in the hall were transported to the Prince's
kingdom where his subjects welcomed him with joy,
where he married Beauty, where they lived a very long
time, in perfect happiness because their love was founded
on virtue.
Page 192

Jean Cocteau Diary of A Film

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Jean Cocteau Diary of A Film

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JEAN COCTEAU DIARY OF A FILM

JEAN COCTEAU DIARY OF A FILM"

ONCE upon a time, in a land none other than that

Amongst all their bickerings and troubles, Beauty

That's where the story begins. The sisters laugh at her

He turns and stands before the Beast, who looks like

It is very probable that this rose is one of the jaws of a

The father is given a horse called Magnificent to ride

The sisters are fiirious. Beauty offers to go to the Beast,

But once in the Beast's castle, Beauty finds a different

Gradually Beauty will also be moved by it, but her

'I know your heart,' he says to Beauty, 'and this key

Once home, Beauty's jewels excite the jealousy of her

promise, and then no longer dares to return. Felicie and

Looking into the magic mirror Beauty sees the Beast

Meanwhile Ludovic and Avenant have reached the

Ludovic is afraid. Avenant breaks one of the panes of

Beauty is kneeling by the lake beside the Beast. She

Back at the Pavilion Avenant is about to let himself

contorted witii agony as it turns into the Beast's. He falls.

It was at that very moment that the Beast became

This Prince Charming looks extraordinarily like

I have decided to write a diary of La Belle et la Bete as

Everybody knows the story of Madame Leprince de

The story requires faith, the faith of childhood. I mean

which can depict the impossible may convince even

It is up to us, (that is, to me and my unit, in fact,

My method is simple ; not to aim at poetry. That must

Sunday, August 26th, 1945.

At last, after a year of every sort of difficulty I am go

To add to the confusion of the endless meetings over

But this exhausting existence hasn't tired me in the

Watching Christian Berard at work is an extra

By a miracle, he has succeeded in merging the style of

What impresses me in these big dressmaking houses,

I saw the dresses this morning in the farmyard at

Rochecorbon where I am shooting. They were hanging

We reached Tours at five o'clock yesterday. Paris

Monday morning, J '.JO,

This morning I must begin to solidify something that

The artists: Mila Parely, Nane Germon, Marais,

Monday evening, 7.30.

A tough beginning in wonderful weather which became

The d6cor was one of those that I had to make with

To the firm it's an everyday occurrence, but to me

Will we have any sun tomorrow? Will the camera work

Kindness is often double-edged. The technicians like

Tuesday morning, J o'clock.

First thing, I look at the sky. It is overcast! Now we

I wonder if it is not all to the good that it is cloudy

I've got the same unit that we used in Baron Fantome,

worse than ours. In his last picture he had to make a shot

Mila and Jean Marais brought my lunch to my room.

Tuesday evening, 1 1 o'clock.

Very grey and overcast this morning. The clouds

Before C16ment arrives he is finishing his film on the

posures. (One can't imagine what it is like in 194^ to

These alleys and wings of sheets which weren't right