Film makers love to show off the Rivera, and for good reason. It's one of the most spectacular venues in the world. However, it's interesting to compare Preminger's Rivera with those of Hitchcock in "To Catch a Thief" and Powell's in "The Red Shoes". In "The Red Shoes" the Riviera is merely a setting in which artists work obsessively to create their art while paying virtually no attention to it. For Hitchcock, the Riviera is a lush background for intrigue. In Preminger's "Bonjour Tristesse" the Riviera represents the lifestyle that the characters desire; luxurious, sensual, hedonistic and, ultimately, empty. "Bonjour Tristesse" is worth seeing for the Riviera, which looks fabulous, and Jean Seberg, who looks fabulous. However, the story is as shallow as the characters.
I do not think that it would be giving away the plot to say that the viewer is led to believe from the very beginning that he is seeing a tragedy. After all, the title translates as "Hello, Sorrow". Furthermore, the opening exposition, filmed in somber black-and-white, leads one to believe that the lives of the protagonists have been devastated by some great tragedy. However, from the very beginning it is also obvious that this impression is not true at all. The father and daughter are depicted as a pair of shallow, selfish, hedonists who care nothing for anything or anyone beyond each other and their own immediate gratification.
The story does not even mention exactly what, if anything, it is that the father does for a living. He is obviously extremely wealthy, but is never seen to do any sort of work or transact any business. It was apparently sufficient for the author that he should be nothing more than a rich, idle, middle-aged playboy who changes his cars as frequently as his daughter, who never wears the same outfit twice, changes her clothes.
In short, not only are the characters in this story not real people, they are not even sympathetic unreal people. It's bad enough having to put up with an hour and a half movie about mannequins without them having to be unlikable mannequins.
I do not think that it would be giving away the plot to say that the viewer is led to believe from the very beginning that he is seeing a tragedy. After all, the title translates as "Hello, Sorrow". Furthermore, the opening exposition, filmed in somber black-and-white, leads one to believe that the lives of the protagonists have been devastated by some great tragedy. However, from the very beginning it is also obvious that this impression is not true at all. The father and daughter are depicted as a pair of shallow, selfish, hedonists who care nothing for anything or anyone beyond each other and their own immediate gratification.
The story does not even mention exactly what, if anything, it is that the father does for a living. He is obviously extremely wealthy, but is never seen to do any sort of work or transact any business. It was apparently sufficient for the author that he should be nothing more than a rich, idle, middle-aged playboy who changes his cars as frequently as his daughter, who never wears the same outfit twice, changes her clothes.
In short, not only are the characters in this story not real people, they are not even sympathetic unreal people. It's bad enough having to put up with an hour and a half movie about mannequins without them having to be unlikable mannequins.