The Moon in the Gutter
1983, directed by Jean-Jacques Beineix
It might seem obvious that the title of The Moon in the Gutter refers to Gérard’s sister Catherine, who killed herself after being raped in the seedy port district of Marseille, because it’s her blood in a gutter that reflects the moon. The title is a poetic metaphor for the contrast between a heavenly object and the filthy underworld where its radiance is so out of place. This metaphor however applies equally well to Loretta Channing, Nastassja Kinski’s character, a glamorous woman who descends from a wealthy neighborhood in the hills to the unsavory port district, slumming with masculine stevedore Gérard Delmas.
The key to The Moon in the Gutter is to identify the link between Catherine and Loretta, the two “moons” in this dark world. Without this connection the movie is lost – which partly explains its dismal critical reception.
Catherine and Loretta look alike. They have the same build, same skin tone, and flowing dark hair. Above all, both women are first identified as someone’s sister. Catherine was the sister of Gérard and Frank, each of whom suspects the other of the rape. The suspicion of incest seems to be warranted in Gérard’s case, as a flashback reveals him caressing his sister’s body in the morgue from her feet to her breasts. Frank describes his déja-vu watching Loretta in the bar, referring of course to her similarity to Catherine. Gérard’s attraction to Loretta is psychologically suspect, as the two women are so alike, and when Gérard goes into his dead sister’s bedroom and recalls their childhood together, Loretta’s theme plays on the soundtrack. Loretta is introduced as Newton’s sister, with whom he shares a close bond. Newton too has a history of incest – a flashback shows his mother kissing him inappropriately in the car right before the crash that kills her – but more to the point, it’s Newton’s mention of Loretta as his “sister” that piques Gérard’s interest in her before they even meet.
Gérard’s illicit attraction to Loretta, the woman who so clearly reminds him of his sister, is expressed cinematically in two extraordinary scenes. The first is her initial appearance. When Newton mentions his sister a second time there’s a roll of thunder. A moment later she arrives to pick up her drunken brother, and the headlights of her Ferrari bathe the dark barroom in warm colors. The revving engine heralds her arrival, her eyes appear above the etched glass, the door handle turns slowly, and Loretta’s musical theme surges as the doorway frames her like a painting and a fan tousles her wavy hair. It’s hard to think of a more dramatic entrance in any movie. It’s a consummate picture of glamor.
The second scene comes eighteen minutes later when Loretta picks Gérard up at his house. Her Ferrari stops in front of a billboard for Stromboli Beer, and the tagline “Try Another World” says exactly what Gérard must read in her eyes as she leans back seductively in the driver’s seat. It’s as if she were a model emerging from the advertisement behind her. As she rises slowly, a low-angle shot frames her like a goddess. Again she’s glamor personified.
Here exactly is the movie’s point. It means to link two words that are not normally joined together: “glamor” and “incest”. The movie connects these words not in fiction or in theory, but in real life, demonstrating that the desire to possess a glamorous object is rooted in incest. Here it’s necessary to understand that glamor is not the same thing as beauty or sexiness or attractiveness. Gérard’s girlfriend Bella has all those qualities, but he wants Loretta because unlike Bella she also has glamor. Glamor is a surplus quality that idealizes its object, elevating it above ordinary life. It transforms a woman, in her worshipper’s eyes, into the equivalent of a princess or a goddess or any other impossible ideal. When The Moon in the Gutter equates glamor with incest, it reminds us that glamor is psychologically regressive, taking the beholder back to an infantile state when he formed an unrealistically ideal image of someone, usually a close family member.
The Stromboli billboard defines glamor the same way. “Try another world” is an invitation to reject the everyday world for something unattainable. The sign forms a backdrop not only to this memorable scene, but also to the closing credits, making it hard to avoid reckoning with those three words and their deceptive allure.
The implicit contrast between a moon and a gutter runs through the movie, heightening the difference between what’s glamorous and what’s not. The Channing mansion could hardly be more different from Gérard’s “crummiest house around”. In Loretta’s presence Gérard’s whole world turns into a fantasy, even the port of Marseille. Her Ferrari glides along the dock as if it’s being pulled through a field of man-made stars, while flocks of seagulls skim over the water. The wedding church sits dramatically on a seaside cliff like a fairy tale illustration, as if Gérard has slipped back into childhood, unable to tell between dream and reality. After the wedding he dresses up, slicks back his hair like a social climber, and plays a hero when Bella sends thugs after him. Loretta is seeking her own version of glamor in the gutter, where she believes men are stronger and more heroic. When she photographs Gérard at work, even after he hits her, she looks at him with a perverse desire.
As Alfred Hitchcock’s movies tell us in so many ways, a man who regresses into pre-adolescent sexuality, including a man seduced by glamor like Gérard, is dangerous to himself and others, especially to the women who cross his path. There’s nothing innocent about a return to childhood. Rather than bringing out the playfulness and sweetness of a young boy, it tends to bring out selfishness, impetuousness, and entitlement.
The opening scene pans to reveal Catherine’s body lying in the street, ending incongruously with a close-up of her Pluto wristwatch, and Gérard will wear this watch through much of the movie. The watch reads 10:15, so that Pluto’s minute hand points straight out as if accusing someone. The cartoon dog shares its name, appropriately enough, with the Roman god of the underworld, but Disney’s Pluto comes from Hollywood, which has seduced the modern world with its cult of glamor, teaching men to desire it and women to try to attain it.
The Moon in the Gutter is far from a Hollywood movie, and its story undermines the dramatic effect of its most glamorous and most exciting scenes. Its failure at the box office probably stems as much as anything from its refusal to indulge audiences with the mystery of Catherine’s rapist. The man is never caught, and he’s only perfunctorily identified when a pair of red shoes stepping off a bus tells us that he’s a dock worker. More important is Gérard’s psychological guilt. He’s not the rapist, but his sexual interest in his sister leads him to betray Bella, and it opens the question of what circumstances led to his sister’s suicide. Was she thinking of how her brother would react to her rape?
The movie forgoes audience satisfaction to define the psychological reality and effects of glamor, and to trace the road to maturity of a man who, like so many others, has learned to desire glamor in women. At the end, after nearly killing his brother on a false suspicion, he stands in the spot where Catherine had died, wearing the same watch and holding the same razor, vowing once again to find her rapist. Suddenly Loretta drives up as if he had conjured her, looking more like Catherine than ever. Now it’s clear that his wish to be his sister’s hero is inseparable from his wish to be Loretta’s lover. Confronted with the similarity of his two wishes, he finally understands that his attraction to Loretta is tainted and could never be called love. At the end he returns to Bella, who may not be an ideal of purity or glamor, but at least she belongs to the real world.
CONNECTIONS:
Mildred Pierce – Link between incest and glamor; implication of Hollywood’s guilt
Vertigo – Insights into the psychology and social consequences of adult incest
Devi – Critique of glamor as a desire rooted in incest
Mulholland Drive – Hollywood singled out as a force of deception, seducing people with glamor
Dry Season – Protagonist’s wish for revenge disguises a lingering incestuous drive