"And God Created Woman," the movie that proved that men would see subtitled films if Brigitte Bardot was the star, is far from being a masterpiece, but it worked as cheap entertainment in the '50s, and still does today. Bardot's charms are on full display here: pouty mouth, tiny waist, and the "feet of a queen" despite her walking around barefoot all the time.
The plot is pretty standard-issue for a tawdry little melodrama. Juliette (Bardot) is an oversexed foster child in St-Tropez, flirting with a suave millionaire (Curd Jürgens) and yearning for handsome local-boy-made-good Antoine (Christian Marquand), who rejects her. In order to avoid being sent back to the orphanage, she marries Antoine's shy younger brother Michel (Jean-Louis Trintignant), and events proceed from there without many surprises.
The sexual and racial politics of the movie are terribly retrograde: Juliette's dancing to African mambo music signifies her descent into depravity, and the movie suggests that Michel needs to learn to "control" his wayward wife. The first half of the movie makes some efforts to establish Juliette as a sympathetic character--she loves music and animals, she won't deal with people who dislike her--but by the end, she is demonized as a woman who will drive men to their doom.
Bardot is charismatic and has at least one terrific scene where she defies her husband's family, but the other actors don't do much with their roles. The lovely cinematography captures St-Tropez before it became a fashionable resort, and the oh-so-'50s jazz soundtrack is fun. Moreover, despite the plot's datedness and predictability, it's enjoyable to spend 90 minutes with an audacious melodrama, and to see why it caused such a fuss 50 years ago.
The plot is pretty standard-issue for a tawdry little melodrama. Juliette (Bardot) is an oversexed foster child in St-Tropez, flirting with a suave millionaire (Curd Jürgens) and yearning for handsome local-boy-made-good Antoine (Christian Marquand), who rejects her. In order to avoid being sent back to the orphanage, she marries Antoine's shy younger brother Michel (Jean-Louis Trintignant), and events proceed from there without many surprises.
The sexual and racial politics of the movie are terribly retrograde: Juliette's dancing to African mambo music signifies her descent into depravity, and the movie suggests that Michel needs to learn to "control" his wayward wife. The first half of the movie makes some efforts to establish Juliette as a sympathetic character--she loves music and animals, she won't deal with people who dislike her--but by the end, she is demonized as a woman who will drive men to their doom.
Bardot is charismatic and has at least one terrific scene where she defies her husband's family, but the other actors don't do much with their roles. The lovely cinematography captures St-Tropez before it became a fashionable resort, and the oh-so-'50s jazz soundtrack is fun. Moreover, despite the plot's datedness and predictability, it's enjoyable to spend 90 minutes with an audacious melodrama, and to see why it caused such a fuss 50 years ago.