Cleo in Cleo from 5 to 7
Various aspects of the movie had me hooked. The
decision to make it black and white in the age of colour cinema put emphasis on
Cleo’s internal and external emotions. The camera movements made me feel like I
was walking down the streets either as her or with her, at all times—creating a
bond with her as I silently empathised with her struggles. I loved the nods to
modernist artists in the café like the paintings by Paul Klee and an overheard
discussion about art not necessarily having a meaning. I recognised the score
composer in the film who is a renowned jazz pianist but took a bold departure
from his signature style to try something new. It was fascinating to see so
much novelty in so little time.
Apart from the modernist visuals and music, Cleo’s
character greatly interested me because of her exponential growth in the span
of two hours. In the beginning of the film, when the tarot cards predict
sickness, we watch as the colour literally drains from her life. I believe the
reading is the last straw as it signifies the fact that she has absolutely no
autonomy or control over her life. In her personal life, her lover does not
make time for her and he only praises her appearance. She has an assistant, but
she is dismissive of Cleo’s feelings. In the professional sphere, her talent
and desires are constantly mocked by the songwriter and composer duo she works
with. She feels trapped, alone and like no one understands her. She wants to
see that someone cares, that she matters.
We see her as an anxious and self-absorbed mess in the
first few chapters. She throws tantrums, flits into the local café to play her
own music on the jukebox, believes she can make anything look good and is
overdramatic but she does all this with air of confidence. However, when the
curtain is drawn, we also see that this is a façade. She leads an empty life
because she is moulded into being the perfect product to push for public
consumption. We see a shift in the movie as she realises this, snaps out of her
pre-occupation with herself and she begins to observe other people.
She notices the eyes watching her, gazes that lingered
a little too long—some of admiration and some of disdain. When Cleo plays her
music in the café, no one pays attention to it and the only comment made about
it was that it was hard to talk over. When she visits at a studio where her
friend poses as a nude model, initially, she is mortified at the thought of
someone finding a flaw on her body. But then we see her opening up to the idea of
self-worth being separated from the approval of others
As time passes, Cleo starts to get overwhelmed by her
surroundings and her thoughts and she decides to go to the park. Here, in the
comfort of nature and the company of a talkative soldier interested in her
purely for her, she feels seen and begins to relax. This is reflected in the
shots that follow which only show her, the soldier and the trees. The Parisian
landscape fades as we see them exchanging glances, smiling nervously as they
make their way to the hospital to get her test results. When she finally, in an
almost anticlimactic way, hears that she has cancer, she is relieved. She turns
to the soldier and tells him that she feels happy for the first time in a long
time.
The ending seemed so pure to me because of how she
transitioned from being anxious about the future, dissatisfied and angry to
coming to terms with her diagnosis and being at peace with her present
situation and company. The theme of death and despair was evident in most
movies made around this time. But Cleo from 5 to 7 portrays these ideas
in a clever way from a rarely seen before perspective—which is modernism’s
greatest strength.