The Nun/La Religieuse


RivetteRivette (1 March 1928 – 29 January 2016) was one of the leading figures in French cinema for more than half a century. He was a key figure in the critical debates of the 50s and 60s, writing extensively for and editing Cahiers du Cinema.  He was the first of the New Wave directors to embark on feature film production but his debut feature was years in production and eventually appeared in 1961, some time after his fellow Cahiers critics Claude Chabrol, Eric Rohmer, Francois Truffau and Jean-Luc Godard had all released at least one feature.

Rivette’s second feature was first released as Suzanne Simonin, la Religieuse de Denis Diderot but has become known as La Religieuse/The Nun since it underwent a restoration and was re-presented at the Cannes Film Festival in 2017.

Rivette completed twenty-nine feature films, the last being Around a Small Mountain in 2009.

The following notes have been written for Cinema Reborn by Adrian Martin. They are published by kind permission of the author.


Jacques Rivette (1928-2016) almost missed out on benefitting from the entire, public phenomenon of the Nouvelle Vague – even though he was, as a core member of the Cahiers du cinéma crowd, such an integral part of it. His first feature, Paris Belongs to Us (Paris nous appartient) began production well before Claude Chabrol’s early films, François Truffaut’s The 400 Blows (1959) and finally Jean-Luc Godard’s À bout de souffle (1960) pounded this New Wave into the minds of audiences in France and well beyond. However, due to infernal complications, its completion and release were delayed until the end of 1961. Then his second feature, The Nun (or, more properly, Suzanne Simonin, la Religieuse de Denis Diderot), went through an even more protracted birth cycle: beginning as a 1960 play (adapted by prime Nouvelle Vague screenwriter Jean Gruault) from Diderot’s novel, Rivette directed it first on the stage in early 1963, and then began the long haul of getting the necessary resources together to make it as a film.

This time, alas, finishing the work in 1966 signalled only the start of the real problems faced by Rivette and his adventurous producer, Georges de Beauregard: in the face of well-organised protests from religious quarters, the ‘Commission of Cinematic Control’ (!) banned the film from both local and overseas exhibition not once but twice – a ban only overturned in 1967. Rivette was duly amazed to see that his rather discreet, chaste – albeit extremely powerful – film could ignite such a scandal in the mid 1960s.

All this is to say that Rivette – like his Nouvelle Vague travelling companion Éric Rohmer, and also like the innovative Jacques Rozier (whose masterpiece Adieu Philippine was shot in 1960 and released in 1962) – was a rather untimely figure within the French cinema of the early to mid 1960s. He had not only effectively missed the Wave but, when he finally got back on his surfboard, what he delivered to the world was a (to some) puzzlingly old-fashioned, classical film – more like the tragic historical melodramas of Otto Preminger or Kenji Mizoguchi (two directors he had praised as a critic during the 1950s) than anything Jean-Luc Godard was doing in his rambunctious prime. The Nun is untimely in another, properly Nietzschean sense, too: it is only now that the film is reborn in a carefully restored version, over fifty years after its sign-off date, that we are able to truly appreciate its greatness.

Rivette was always, in an intuitive and unself-conscious way, the most feminist member of the Nouvelle Vague’s all-male auteur crew; that much became patently clear with the release of Céline and Julie Go Boating in 1974. But The Nun hits with an anti-patriarchal wallop that was launched well before its time, and waiting for our time to really make direct contact: the tale of Suzanne Simenon, this “difficult soul” (as she is described) is one long, sustained wail of pain and frustration concerning an endless ordeal of abuse and manipulation. It is not ‘men’ who are so much the problem (some of the women here are A-grade sadists, too); rather, it is the various institutions (church, law, family, convent) that unfairly position some people with power (when they scarcely deserve it), and others forever without it. Suzanne is a victim of every system going, beginning with a largely unspoken moral-social code that deprives her of money, autonomy and freedom of choice; but she is also someone who never ceases crying out against injustice, revolting with her whole, soulful being against injury and indifference.

This role gave Anna Karina a special opportunity (her hubby of the time, Monsieur Godard, had financed the stage production which also starred her), and she made the absolute most of it. Karina was both blessed and cursed (then as now) with the tag of icon or emblem of the Nouvelle Vague; almost everyone who cast her (including Luchino Visconti, Tony Richardson, even Rivette himself in the wonderful musical Haut bas fragile[1995]) exploited that association, and rarely required of her to play an individual character of any depth. The Nunis the shining exception to that rule: in every respect, the role shows what she’s capable of as an actor.

The 25 year-old Jacques Aumont, writing the rave Cahiers du cinéma review for its October ’67 issue (no. 194), put the matter of The Nun’s aesthetic orientation firmly and correctly: far from opting for “non-modernity”, Rivette had detoured around received wisdom concerning what constitutes cinematic novelty in order to arrive at “one of the two or three most innovative films” of its time. Crucial to the film’s staggering formal coherence is Rivette’s approach to the soundtrack: with composer Jean-Claude Éloy and editor Denise de Casabianca, he went through the entire film and mapped its holistic “score” for music, direct sound recording of voices, and added noise effects (bells, birds, wind …). The result is a stunning example of what filmmakers now routinely call “sound design”, on par with what only a few truly “audiovisual” directors (such as Ritwik Ghatak) were doing at the time. The model of serial music (in the Karlheinz Stockhausen tradition), with its intricate interrelation and patterning of parts, informed the film at all its levels: Rivette joked that he conceived it as a “cellular” movie about people imprisoned in cells.

Rivette would again take up much of the iconography of The Nun, and its agonised dance of emotional and sexual relations, years later in Don’t Touch the Axe (2007), adapted this time from Balzac. But, in the immediate context of the film’s release in 1967, Rivette declared he had been “utterly bored” by the often tedious process of realising such a thoroughly pre-planned project, and had already made a bolder leap into the void: with the long-form, largely improvised, evidently contemporary film-and-theatre game launched in L’Amour fou (1967). That particular milestone, which would set the experimental parameters of Rivette’s art for the following 15 years, now awaits imminent digital restoration: therefore, it is another must-have for a future iteration of Cinema Reborn!

© Adrian Martin, January 2019


Restored in 4K from the original camera negative by L’Immagine Ritrovata, under the supervision of StudioCanal and Mrs. Véronique Manniez-Rivette, with the support of the Centre National du Cinéma, La Cinématheque Française, and the Franco-American Cultural Fund-DGA-MPA-SACEM-WGAW.


Dir: Jacques RIVETTE | France | 1966 | 135 mins | Colour | Sound | French with Eng. subtitles | 4kDCP (originally 35mm) | U/C15+.

Prod. Co: Rome Paris Films, Société Nouvelle de Cinématographie | Prod: Georges de Beauregard | Scr: Jean GRUAULT, JacquesRIVETTE, from the novel by Denis Diderot | Photo: Alain LEVANT | Edit: Denise DE CASABIANCA | Des/Art: Jean-Jacques FABRE, Guy LITTAYE | Sound: Urbain LOISEAU, Guy VILLETTE | Music: Jean-Claude ÉLOY| Costume: Gitt MAGRINI.

Cast: Anna KARINA (Suzanne), Liselotte PULVER (Mme De Chelles), Micheline PRESLE (Mme de Moni), Francisco RABAL (Dom Morel), Francine BERGÉ (Soeur Sainte-Christine).

Source: StudioCanal.

Cinema Reborn at the Queer Screen Mardi Gras Film Festival – A Special Presentation of Jacqueline Audry’s OLIVIA (France, 1951)

Jacqueline Audry

This review by Eloise Ross was originally published in Senses of Cinema’s Melbourne Cinematheque Annotations on Film. Grateful thanks to Eloise for permission to republish.

Tickets to this session and other info about the festival can be found at

Published pseudonymously in 1949 under the author name ‘Olivia’, Dorothy Bussy’s novel Olivia was likely written thanks to the influence of the 1931 German film Mädchen in Uniform (Girls in Uniform, Leontine Sagan). The film version, Olivia (Jacqueline Audry, 1951), was made from an adapted screenplay by the director’s sister, Colette Audry, and this trifecta of female authors is meaningful as their feeling resonates through the text. Olivia traces a similar track to the German film, taking place at a girls’ finishing school outside of Paris run by two headmistresses, Julie (Edwige Feuillère) and Cara (Simone Simon), who are each favoured by factions amongst the students. Jacqueline Audry worked with Max Ophuls in her early career in the film industry, and an influence from the older director can be sensed in her attention to the fascinations of a young woman, and her film’s fascination with the windows, staircase, and hidden spaces of a house. Apparently, Ophuls had wanted to make Audry’s earlier adaptation Gigi (1949), which also focuses on the passionate yearning of an adolescent girl.

Audry’s films are part of a sophisticated period of filmmaking in France, one that saw a wealth of literary adaptations and period films, with intricate characters and camerawork supported by dialogue. This may be a reason for her lack of recognition amongst critics and historians; her work was considered too traditional, lacking creativity and vision, and was disrupted by the irreverence of the French New Wave. But she is set apart by “her consistent interest in transgressive women figures”, something for which she should be praised, with note taken of her relationships with women in her life such as her mother and sister – who was close with Simone de Beauvoir – and also her connection with the professional work of the great early 20th century writer Colette. (As Carrie Tarr notes, Audry’s works are often shown in homage to Colette rather than as part of a focus on the director herself, as shown for instance with Il Cinema Ritrovato’s retrospective in 2017.) In some ways, perhaps Audry was as transgressive as many of her heroines, and tragically held back by a variation on this same conventional narrative – a woman forced to struggle for her own recognition.


While Julie and Cara vie for the students’ affections – Julie by taking advantage of her physical proximity to them, and Cara from the confines of her bedroom, afflicted by a real or imagined illness – they also vie for each other’s. Theirs seems like a relationship that may have existed prior to the film’s temporal spotlight, but was discontinued due to societal restrictions or the complications of desire – and in this space of doubt, Audry and her actors insert a great intensity. The staircase becomes a central element of the school and its entanglements, a place from which girls would observe others, or on which they would perform for others at the school. It is circular, snaking around the walls of the school’s antechamber, a link between the classrooms and the bedrooms of the girls, and leading, too, to Julie and Cara’s boudoirs. The camera, which often circles or moves freely through the building’s spaces and amongst its residents, has a sensual openness that aligns with the freedom given to the girls at the school.

When Olivia (Marie-Claire Olivia) first arrives at the school, she is greeted by Mademoiselle Julie; both characters are placed within the doorframe, the interior behind them bustling with schoolgirl activity. Thus, from this early moment, Olivia is separated from her peers, and her individual fascination with the school is differentiated from her alliance with the headmistresses. Later, Olivia flushes over the symptoms of desperate love and adoration to a friend, as though not recognising what they are signs of. Julie tells Olivia that she is too passionate, and yet cannot entirely hide that she is drawn to the student. Her intentions remain restrained, mysterious, and both women may be manipulative, but neither she nor Cara’s actions are seen as outright perverse; their behavior, instead, is tinged with sadness as they each abandon what they love. These are all moments that betray a confusion in the characters, suggesting that something so simple as a need for comfort is out of reach in their society.

Gwendolyn Audrey Foster includes Olivia in a genre she refers to as “lesbian soft-core, girls’-school films”, within which she also includes Mädchen in Uniform and The Wild Party (Dorothy Arzner, 1929) as films that deal with the very specific scenario of female bonding. Given that Audry was often criticised, or at least, like Arzner, left out of the spotlight for her adherence to conventional narrative and storytelling practices, it may be hard for some historians to consider her feminist. Yet perhaps it should emphasised that, as she was introducing non-traditional perspectives – including, for instance, those of cooks and service women in the school – into an otherwise classical format, she was in fact being more subversive than she’s given credit for. As Tarr writes, “Olivia’s discovery of love and desire is thus never experienced through feelings of guilt and shame, though it is accompanied by a realisation that such knowledge cannot be trusted to outsiders.” Her private moments shared with Julie are thus framed as extensions of the first moment they met, alone against a backdrop of students whose interests, although also directed towards the headmistresses, are much less intense.

There are almost no male characters in the film, and when on screen they are not privileged in the frame; seen only from behind, or in profile at some distance, they appear to enforce law from the outside world, with no interest in the minutiae of life inside the school. Their disinterest in the experience of the school, of the feelings and statements of women and girls as individuals and as a group, is symbolic of much of women’s suffering in a world in which women are treated as lesser than men and a hindrance to patriarchal order. This final appearance of a structure of male sensibility, presented without the male gaze, highlights further the misunderstanding amongst men and women; there are occurrences at the school that these men do not comprehend, and their attempts to present some solution render them all but useless.


In the United States, Olivia was released as The Pit of Loneliness, attributing to it some greater sense of melodrama than was contained in the film, and thus aligning it with a number of other Hollywood pictures about isolated women, like The Snake Pit (Anatole Litvak, 1948). But Olivia has a lasting power and uniqueness, as much due to its classical French origins as in spite of them. That the actress playing the title role was prompted to change her name to Marie-Claire Olivia was perhaps due to the powerful sensuality of the script and of her interactions with Feuillère and Simon on screen. Whether or not you interpret Olivia as condemning lesbian desire, Audry’s film manages to explore complexities and subtleties in how women act in their relationships and in their professional spaces, precisely by allowing them an unresolvable ambiguity.



Cinema Reborn 2020 – First Announcement


Ernst Lubitsch2A
Ernst Lubitsch


Cinema Reborn 2020

The Organising Committee of Cinema Reborn announced today that the 2020 season will take place at the Randwick Ritz cinema from Thursday 30 April to Sunday 3 May.

Cinema Reborn began in 2018 and is dedicated to presenting digital restorations of classic cinema from around the world. The festival has now become part of an ever-growing circuit of film events devoted to showcasing the restoration work of the world’s major production companies and international film archives.

IdaLupino jpg
Ida Lupino


Highlights of the previous Cinema Reborn programs included Memories of Underdevelopment(Tomás Gutiérrez Alea), Yol–The Full Version (Yilmaz Güney), Wanda(Barbara Loden), Sons of Matthew(Charles Chauvel), A Matter of Life and Death(Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger), In a Lonely Place (Nicholas Ray), Sans Lendemain (Max Ophuls), The Crime of M. Lange (Jean Renoir), One From the Heart(Francis Ford Coppola), Woman on the Run(Norman Foster), People of the Australian Western Desert(Ian Dunlop), Between Wars(Michael Thornhill), In a Year of 13 Moons (Rainer Werner Fassbinder) and The Night of Counting the Years(Shadi Abdel Salam) .

Cinema Reborn 2020 will present a program of eleven films over four days.  The full program will be announced in February 2020.

Luis Bunuel

Venue – The Randwick Ritz

Cinema Reborn is especially pleased that for a second year the event will take place at Randwick’s iconic art deco Ritz Cinema, a venue with state of the art projection equipment and one of the few remaining theatres in Sydney able to screen both digital copies and 35mm.

Cinema Reborn once again appreciates the support of the dedicated staff of the Ritz.

Eddie Tamir, the proprietor of The Ritz and of Melbourne’s Classic, Lido and Cameo cinemas has indicated his continuing enthusiasm for the project and commented: “We love having the greatest films of the past playing alongside the best films of today.”

Federico Fellini

Subscription Ticketing

To assist our patrons and supporters to enjoy the event to the maximum, in Cinema Reborn 2020 will offer the opportunity to purchase a dedicated budget-priced subscription ticket which will admit to all screenings.

Charitable Donations

Cinema Reborn is greatly assisted by charitable donations and a dedicated fund will again be set up to accept tax-deductible gifts from donors. Donations are accepted throughout the year from those not seeking tax deductibility and parties interested in donating, supporting screenings or offering sponsorship of any kind should contact the festival directly at the contact points below.

Billy Wilder
Billy Wilder

Interstate Venues

Negotiations are underway to present Cinema Reborn 2020 at interstate venues and there will be further announcements when these details have been settled.

For further information:


Geoff Gardner

Chair, Organising Committee



Ph: 0416 912 567

The Presentations (7) – Jason Di Rosso introduces LUCKY TO BE A WOMAN/LA FORTUNE DI ESSERE DONNA (Alessandro Blasetti, Italy, 1956)

Jason Di Rosso

Lucky to be a Woman/ La Fortuna di Essere Donna is one of the earliest films to feature the iconic always electric pairing of Marcello Mastroianni and Sophia Loren. It is directed by Alessandro Blasetti, who had in fact first put the two together in his film Too Bad She’s Bad/Peccato che sia una canaglia), which came out two years earlier in 1954, and also saw Loren playing a quick witted schemer.

This is a film from a very versatile director who skipped across genres, and in fact was already a veteran in the 1950s, having established himself during the fascist ventennio, or two-decade long dictatorship.

It’s depiction of the cynical world of tabloid journalism is strikingly ambivalent. And this ambivalence is demonstrated through Loren’s very modern character, who, as a poor but ambitious and beautiful young woman in a country still struggling, given that it was barely 10 years since the end of a devastating war, is both the subject of exploitation but also quite capable of taking advantage of those who seek to exploit her.


By the mid 1950s neo-realism was morphing into more populist films like this one, a trend or genre dubbed “pink neorealism or neorealismo rosa”, a precursor to the commedia all’italiana.

The critic Andrea Bini in his book, Male Anxiety and Psychopathology in Film: Comedy Italian Style, points out the difference between pink neorealism and the commedia all’italiana using this film as an example, saying that as a pink neorealism it tends towards a redemptive arc, a celebration and re-assertion of domesticity, humble values, while the com media all’italiana would reflect a more jaded vision, with characters whose desires know no limitations.

That said, this film is of course an interesting precursor to Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, given Mastroianni plays a paparazzo in this film who hangs around the Roman social set and peddles scandal, gossip and soft porn. The screenplay is written by a woman and two men, giants of Italian screenwriting, Suso Cecchi d’Amico, along with Sandro Continenza and Ennio Flaiano ( who co-wrote La Dolce Vita)…

And a final connection with Fellini’s film Lucky to be a Woman was shot by La Dolce Vita‘s cinematographer Otello Martelli…

Lucky to be a Woman is not a film of grand or showy cinematic gestures, it’s underpinned by a solid level of craft across the board – from the grips operating the dollies to the screenwriters – this is a very good example of what the Cinecitta hit machine could produce in the post war years. Films like this are the lifeblood of a national cinema at its most populist and engaging. An effervescent, bold and socially critical comedy, with breathtaking on screen chemistry between two leads who would go on to be major international stars.

Friday 3 May 2019

Jason Di Rosso is ABC Radio National’s film and TV critic and reviewer across a range of RN shows. He was previously the host of the weekly film show The Final Cut. Before becoming RN’s chief film specialist, Jason spent six years as associate producer and reviewer on RN’s Movietime.

His background in film goes back to the 90s, when he completed a degree in communications at Perth’s Curtin University. He tried his hand as a production runner but then began to slowly drift from film to radio, and started making features for RN. Since returning to film, by way of radio, he has interviewed some of cinema’s most important talents, from Isabelle Huppert to Mike Leigh.

Outside the ABC, his writing on film and popular culture has appeared in GQ magazine and The Australian. He has participated in public discussions and delivered presentations in a wide variety of forums, including films festivals and universities across Australia. He is currently a doctoral candidate in film at the University of Technology Sydney.

Alongside presenting ABC RN’s The Screen Hub since 2018 he has hosted Screen Sounds on ABC Classic FM.