"The Green Ray": Floating Delphine Spoilers

In "The Green Ray" by Éric Rohmer, when a man offers Delphine a plate of flowers at the dining table, she absentmindedly grabs a white flower (missing it the first time and catching it on the second), but she doesn't stop her motion, causing the flower to fall. She then picks up a pink petal, plays with it for a moment, and discards it again. Only when the man is about to move the plate away does she glance at it and reclaims the white flower she initially chose. She holds the flower between her fingers, combs its petals, and caresses it in her palm.

Throughout this sequence, she repeats her futile justifications, much like how she repeatedly picks up and drops the flowers - until finally, as if realizing the presence of the flower, she shifts her gaze away from her conversation partner, brings the small flower to her nose, and takes a whiff: the editing point suddenly appears, cutting off her lengthy and biased self-justification.

We often think that dialogue dominates Rohmer's films; however, in this moment, we realize that it is Delphine's body language that initiates the visual changes. Many fans of Rohmer's work share the feeling that it's difficult to pinpoint the charm of his images - he seemingly simply presents everyday moments, yet we know that these moments are anything but ordinary. Apart from the captivating conversations of the characters, all we can do is list the inadvertently passing images in the film: the shimmering southern French beach, dazzlingly green trees, radiant girls in their enchanting dresses...

The poetry hidden in these images is not abstract in any form as it is attached to specific material; however, it is far from concrete - even though scattered throughout all the specific materials in the film. To elucidate this invisible poetics, we will refer to Rohmer's imagery as a "body."

In Rohmer's films, the camera pays close attention to capturing the intricate body movements of the characters. The girls' body language is so rich and unique that many times something surprising happens: when they eat, sometimes their eating gestures surpass the act of eating itself (they break biscuits into pieces or persistently bite a small piece of fruit residue left on the stem after finishing the entire fruit).

The truth is, under the gentle and patient waiting of the camera, the boundaries of the female body disappear: on one hand, the body constantly extends towards the surrounding objects; on the other hand, the surrounding objects are endowed with a certain "corporeality," as if they were included in the perceptual range of a sensitive physical body. There is an intriguing scene in the film where Delphine, after returning to Paris, sits at an outdoor café with a chance encounter friend and chats about her search for her next place. The friend criticizes the weather in Paris: she looks up at the sky and makes a corresponding gesture, "La..." - interestingly, this is just a casual response lacking clear intention in the conversation, so insignificant in dialogue, yet the camera, which has been steadfastly following her hand and eye, immediately obeys and shifts to the cloudy sky above Paris at this moment.

That's why we refer to it as a kind of "body": Rohmer's camera and characters share an intimate connection, with no distance between them. Daily images constitute the characters themselves, creating a "body." In "The Green Ray," this ultimately forms a state of "searching" and "wandering." In the film, it's not just the character Delphine who wanders; the flow of images also searches and wanders like a body. The material flow in the film becomes another Delphine, constantly searching.

We all know how Rohmer treats his characters. In his beloved "moral stories," characters are never judged morally. In "The Green Ray," Rohmer undoubtedly creates a somewhat pitiful girl in reality. Delphine is so lonely, but no one loves her, and much of this is due to her own sentimental disposition. However, through the use of imagery, Rohmer transforms this "pitiful" condition into the countless subtle emotions and empathetic intentions flowing through her heart, restoring it to a "body."

At this level, Rohmer is a true humanist. It seems to echo the moral philosophy he admires so much from Kant: "The Good Will is the only good without any attributes or qualifications." He skillfully releases the authenticity of his characters from certain "immoral" constraints through the immediacy of his images.