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Phaedra

A Greek tragedy, but a triumph of shot composition.

Jules Dassin brings the destructive tumult of Greek tragedy straight into 1962 into the stylish Phaedra, but the picture ultimately founders on the rocks. No amount of art can make up for wooden chemistry, and that’s especially true when the characters need to convey a passion worth wrecking their lives for. Melina Mercouri and Anthony Perkins both do fine work individually as the two halves of this desperate, doomed stepmother and stepson romance, but the energy between them is, if not quite inert, more embarrassing than tragic.* I can buy Phaedra and Alexis are attracted enough to each other for it to be awkward. But to destroy themselves and the man they both love? Come on, guys. It’s not that hot.

But Dassin and cinematographer Jacques Natteau do their level best to convince me otherwise, and in a handful of scenes, they almost succeed. It’s all about the framing.

Greek shipping tycoon Thanos (Raf Vallone) asked his wife, Phaedra, to fetch his wayward (and half-English) son Alexis from London and convince him to stay with them for the summer. (It’ll shake him out of his nascent art career, Thanos hopes.) As a child, Alexis resented Phaedra for “stealing” Thanos away from his mother, so the two of them have never met. Now that he’s in his twenties and his mother has long-since remarried too, it’s easy to let bygones be bygones. The two quickly connect, and Alexis’s youthfulness brings out an answering whimsy in Phaedra. Back in Greece, she’s a mother; here, she seems more like a teenager.

The precision comes from noting only in retrospect when that playfulness reached dangerous heights. Phaedra tells Alexis that ancient Greeks used to cast sacrifices out onto the waves when they made wishes, and then she makes a wish for him to come home—and throws an ornate ring, a gift from her husband, out into the water to show him how much she means it. In the moment, Alexis is horrified by the waste—he makes to dive in after it—but laughingly so. They’re in a fantasy bubble where feelings matter more than reasons and consequences. For now, it’s all funny.

Later, Alexis, Phaedra, and Thanos lounge about together, and Thanos asks a natural question: what happened to Phaedra’s ring?

The atmosphere changes, and Natteau captures it beautifully. Phaedra and Thanos share a shot, physically intertwined, but the frame cuts Thanos’s face off halfway and gives us Phaedra in full: opposite her, we see Alexis, too, as a complete figure. They’re sharing an understanding that, thanks to the framing, literally passes over Thanos’s head; he’s only a pair of eyes, a potential witness to a secret they’re now realizing is too much. Right after this exchange, Alexis will offer to leave, and Phaedra will beg Thanos to stay.

The harsh, severing edges of the frame come back in a different way in the ultimate seduction, here used not to exclude and alter Thanos but to exclude and alter the parts of themselves that know this is a bad idea. Alexis is on his knees before the fire, and Phaedra, behind him, is only a pair of legs; she confesses her love, and he grasps her knees and draws her against his back. The unconventionality of the pose makes its erotic need come through; this isn’t a normal romance, so it needs an abnormal gesture. (Really, the specificity of the image is something more stories, vanilla or otherwise, should embrace.)

It’s easy to see the kaleidoscopic series of shots that follow as cheesy, a way of evoking fragments of sensuality without ruling out widespread distribution, but even if that’s part of it, that’s not—appropriately—the whole picture. This is a love story where it’s crucial for neither of them to ever be their full selves. This can only go on with this intense near-happiness if Phaedra forgets she’s Thanos’s wife and Alexis forgets he’s Thanos’s son. They can only love each other in (and to) pieces.

Phaedra is streaming on Amazon Prime.