102 Boulevard Haussmann
Alan Bennett and Alan Bates
have set themselves an almost impossible task:
an exploration of the roots of creativity, based on
Marcel Proust's sexual frustration and love of music.
from Time Out's Television & Broadcast guide,
by Elaine Paterson
writers inevitably poses problems. What writers do is not cinematic,
and even if there are 100 ways to film them writing, film-makers
can't hope to visualise inspriation; the germination of thought.
Which makes Alan Bennett's decision to base "102 Boulevard
Haussmann" on an episode from Marcel Proust's later years
(1916, to be exact) seem all the more perverse. After 1907 Proust
did little else but think and write; an asthmatic invalid in
a sound-proofed room, tucked up in bed -- alone.
Paris and Vulnerable Heart
from the Los Angeles Times, 26 November 1991
by Kevin Thomas
Luckily for Proust -- and for the drama -- he had
a maid, Celeste, played by Janet McTeer with exquisite hauteur),
and it's their cloistered relationship which forms the backbone
of "Boulevard Haussmann." Theirs is an insular and
seemingly inviolable pond. Proust's demands deny Celeste's poor
husband, on short leave from the front, time alone with his wife
-- the writer is not above knowingly and needlessly interrupting
their love-making. Celeste, in turn, will intervene to protect
Proust from the young viola players he finds so attractive, and
whom he lures in quartets to his apartment to perform the phrase
by Franck which recurs in "A la Recherche du Temps Perdu."
In their mutual possessiveness they are, says director Udayan
Prasad, "like an old married couple" and the suggestion
is that Celeste created the environment which enabled Proust
This is very much Bennett territory; a static world
of repressed intimacy in which incidentals -- the arch of an
eyebrow, a thought spoken aloud, the plumping of pillows -- seems
meaningful, and he handles it with economy and wit. He applied
a similar reductive process to his celebrated TV film about Guy
Burgess, "An Englishman Abroad," and some of that team
help to bring "Haussmann" alive. Innes Lloyd produces
and Bates stars. But while "102 Boulevard Haussmann"
can work as a drama about relationships, there's more to it than
Says Prasad: "The script has its own reality.
It doesn't pretend to be a documentary about what Proust did
in that short period of time. On set, Alan Bennett made the point
about wanting to show people who are artistically engaged in
the process of creativity as being barely human."
respect the drama is only partly successful. Bates, employing
what Prasad describes as "sinister charm," creates
a Proust who is both dislocated from the outside world and in
control of his own. But the drama's failing is inevitably in
communicating creativity -- an activity centred for Bennett's
Proust in the inner reverie that music induces. As the quartet
performs, Bates's face becomes twitchingly expressive in close-up
and Prasad attempts to "use the camera as if it was Proust's
eye". What these overlong passages will communicate to viewers
not aware of the significance of the refrain in Proust's novel
is anyone's guess. Still, the music's beautiful.
As a Bennett "fictional reality,""102
Boulevard Haussmann" is absorbing and affecting. Its underlying
musing on the nature of genius may be a meander up an intellectual
cul-de-sac, but the cul-de-sac is beautifully shot, set in a
space and time entirely of its own, and governed by two extraordinary
102 Boulevard Haussmann was the address of the great French
novelist Marcel Proust (1871-1922) who, wracked with asthma,
spent much of his life writing through the night in the famous
cork-lined bedroom of his ornate Paris townhouse. Directed by
Udayan Prasad, this masterful, subtle, 70-minute film takes us
inside this residence and into its owner's vulnerable heart.
At first, the depiction here of Proust (Alan Bates)
and his devoted housekeeper Celeste (Janet McTeer) recalls the
characters' portrayal in Percy Adlon's memorable 1983 "Celeste."
Theirs was a traditional master-and-servant relationship but
suffused with a transcending mutual appreciation.
Yet writer Alan Bennett.
[shown here on the set of "102 Boulevard Haussmann"
with Alan Bates] who wrote the superb 1985 "An Englishman
Abroad," in which Bates played notorious spy Guy Burgess,
tells of an incident in Proust's life that allows us to see the
Proust-Celeste relationship from a different - and disturbing
The time is early in World War I; by now Proust went
out rarely and only at night. At a concert by a string quartet,
the novelist, who was gay, is taken with the young viola player
(Paul Rhys). Soon, Proust has persuaded the young man that he
and his quartet should play a concert for him in his bedroom
very late at night, for which he pays them handsomely. Ever so
indirectly, Proust begins his courting of the young man.
What develops next is totally unexpected, leaving
us to ponder the motivations of Celeste but especially of Proust's
physician (Philip McGough). Are they interested merely in protecting
Proust's health? Or do they feel that Proust, as a homosexual,
somehow has to be protected from himself? In any event, their
actions are outrageous, and all the more so for not actually
sparing Proust any pain.
©1991, Times Mirror Company