Les Enfants Terribles: Criterion Collection

Jean-Pierre Melville’s filmed version of Jean Cocteau’s strange and haunting novel Les Enfants Terribles positively reeks of the original author’s influence. In fact, if one didn’t look at the credits, one would swear it was a Cocteau film made very much in the dream-like, mythic style of his widely celebrated Orphée. Hypnotic in its dazzling use of close-ups and classical music which seems often at odds with the on-screen action, Les Enfants Terribles isn’t quite the masterpiece it should have been, but it’s still a unique psychological study of sibling rivalry gone amok.

Nicole Stéphane and Edouard Dermithe star as a sister and brother locked in an oddly needy love/hate relationship alternately consoling and bitching each other to distraction. Elisabeth (Stéphane) is clearly the stronger of the two both physically and psychologically, but Paul (Dermithe) seems to hold the trump card in the relationship with his sickly airs and the ability to withdraw into himself and do without anyone, something Elisabeth is incapable of. The film is a series of small adventures the duo experience along with some friends of theirs: Gérard (Jacques Bernard) and Agathe (Renée Cosima). The outings on a seaside trip and at a dress store hardly seem important at first glance, but they lead to highly dramatic complications later.

Being based on a Cocteau story, the homoeroticism present in the film is rampant from almost the opening scene as Paul gets the breath knocked out of him from a snowball hurled by his school’s BMOC Dargelos on whom he has most certainly an emotional fixation. Later on when Dargelos’ female doppelganger happens on the scene in the person of Agathe (both male and female played by the same actress), it’s no surprise that love blossoms. But even before then, we see the room that Paul and Elisabeth share covered with pictures of boxers and male film stars leaving little doubt that the brother and sister likewise share similar erotic interests. The ties that bind this sibling pair are unusual and, for the cinema of the time, very sophisticated.

Nichol Stéphane gives a superbly forceful performance as the sometimes greedy and always grasping Elisabeth. Her ability to switch moods with appropriate facial expressions and physical gestures is quite impressive. Edoward Dermithe, in only his second film and with no real training as an actor, does what he can with the complex character of Paul, but opposite the more skillful intensity of Stéphane, he seems more mechanical and hesitant. Jacques Bernard gives a quiet nobility to Gérard while Renée Cosima is much more successful as the lovesick female Agathe than as the swaggering Dargelos. The explosive chemistry between Stéphane and Dermithe, of course, makes all others seem inconsequential, something of a problem when these others must have a major influence on events in the story.

Melville’s direction has a fluidity that gives an other-worldly texture to the movie, and some shots like a forward walk dragging a blanket behind are echoed in the film to sometimes startling effect. Cocteau’s voiceover narration carries further allusions to his film The Blood of a Poet adding another instance of this being a Cocteau film without having his official credit as director. Certainly many of Melville’s later gangster pictures and neo-film noirs don’t have the same airy, surreal feel that this film has.



The film’s 1.33:1 theatrical aspect ratio is represented faithfully on this DVD. Though much of the film is clean and quite sharp, there are scenes where the image goes soft, and there are errant thin scratches from time to time. The black and white photography does feature some strong black levels, but detail in the shadows is only fair. Subtitles are quite easy to read. The film has been divided into 18 chapters.


The level of the Dolby Digital 1.0 soundtrack has been set properly (unlike some recent Criterion releases which were uncomfortably loud). There is some hiss, occasional soft flutter, and some distortion at the loudest moments. Often foreign films of this age have treble-heavy soundtracks, and this one is no different. There is little low end to the sound recording of this movie.



The running commentary on the disc is provided by film scholar Gilbert Adair. He speaks in a very languid style about the film and its participants, and there are sizable gaps between comments at certain intervals. I really enjoy a kind of commentary, however, which doesn’t slavishly follow what’s happening on-screen with a running narration. Adair's comments begin in a free form style and later become screen specific.

A rough looking and sounding theatrical trailer lasting about 2½ minutes is offered on the disc. First time viewers are warned that the ending of the film is given away in the trailer.

A featurette entitled About the Film features actor Jacques Bernard, assistant director Claude Pinoteau, and co-producer Carole Weisweiller all extolling the film as a Melville rather than a Cocteau masterpiece. The 4:3 feature lasts approximately 14 minutes and is properly subtitled in English.

In counterpoint to their arguments is a 16½ -minute piece entitled Around Jean Cocteau in which critics Dominique Paini and Jean Narboni contend that the film belongs much more to Cocteau’s oeuvre than Melville’s. The discussion with appropriate subtitles was filmed as the critics stroll around the Centre Pompidou in Paris which houses a Cocteau exhibition marking his genius in several artistic fields.

Actress Nicole Stéphane appearing on a French television program in 2003 likewise gives the lion’s share of the credit for the film’s merit and for her performance to Cocteau in her 12-minute interview subtitled in English.

A very interesting stills gallery shows quite a few behind-the-scenes shots on the sets of the picture, and Jean Cocteau is seen in many of them.

A 29-page booklet containing Cocteau drawings from his original novel, an analysis of the film by author Gary Indiana, some reminiscences by actress Nicole Stéphane, and comments on the film by director Jean-Pierre Melville excerpted from a 1971 book on his movies is also included in the set.



Les Enfants Terribles is a fascinating movie no matter which master craftsman was directly responsible for its unique artistry. Cocteau fans will know exactly what to expect with this movie, and those who enjoy Melville’s more noirish thrillers will see a side to his talent that they quite possibly never knew existed.


Matt Hough
Charlotte, NC