Actresses: Making the Most of Love

(10 of 10)

Since Malle conceives of his movie as a sort of burlesque boxing match—sexpot v. seductress—Moreau's attempt at philosophic rapport with Brigitte may not emerge on film. The one thing the two girls have in common, after all, is what all girls have in common—only in blinding, polar extremes. But Moreau begins drawing inward before her films begin shooting, and she did not concern herself with a possible collision of ideas. Instead, she settled into the palatial hacienda she had rented in the foothills above Cuernavaca, passing most of her time alone with Simone and Anna Pradella, her cook—two of her oldest friends. She shopped for flowers and fish and kept all her appointments, and when she swam in her cold azure pool, she swam like a boy, letting her hair trail back in the water. When the time came for work, she was ready.

Tribute of Silence. The cast and crew moved out to the badlands town of Texcoco, 25 miles from Mexico City. Because movies are made backward and inside out, the first scene shot was a eulogy after the death of the hero, Flores, played by George Hamilton. George, a 25-year-old Hollywood actor, is so absurdly good-looking, so sublimely innocent, that the very sight of him in Moreau's umber company induces a grin. Yet the script calls for him to win her heart in Spanish-accented French. Since he speaks neither language, he was working without a net, but he was dead in the first scene anyway, so there was no problem.

Moreau stood by on a balcony above a dusty square, hands on swaying hips, waiting for Malle to get the extras ready. An assistant chased a dozen hens into camera range, and another doused two sweltering pigs with cold water. Finally Malle was ready. "Silencio! On tourne! Moteur!" The camera began to roll, and the clapboard slapped. The crowd of onlookers fixed their attention on Moreau, paying her the tribute of utter silence. She walked to the balcony rail and turned to watch gravely as Hamilton's limp body was carried down the steps and into the square. And then she turned to face the camera, and in a throaty, broken voice, she began her 41st film: "Flores est mort."