Synopsis
Expatriate Henry Miller indulges in a variety of sexual escapades while struggling to establish himself as a serious writer in Paris.
Quiet Days in Clichy
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Alternative Titles
Días tranquilos en Clichy, Jours tranquilles à Clichy, Giorni felici a Clichy, Stille Tage in Clichy, Csendes napok Clichyben, 克里西区的静静日子, Тихие дни в Клиши, Dias de Clichy
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Theatrical
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France
11 Nov 1990
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USA
Physical
20 Oct 2002
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Russian Federation18+
Releases by Country
France
09 May 1990
- Theatrical
Russian Federation
20 Oct 2002
- Physical18+ DVD
USA
11 Nov 1990
- Theatrical
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Quiet Days in Clichy. 1990. Directed by Claude Chabrol. 🇫🇷🌟🇫🇷
When I was a tennager (~12 to 14 years old), I read Henry Miller’s “Black Spring” and “Tropic of Cancer.” My parents had explained these books were banned when they were children so this left a large impact on my opinion to read them. In fact, it inspired me to read them and explore why they were banned in the United States but, not in Paris. They were even published in Paris. So, upon seeing Claude Chabrol had made a film named “Quiet Days in Clichy”celebrating the author Henry Miller’s exploits in Paris I was excited.
Quiet Days in Clichy has great pacing, outstanding Art Nouveau sets, set pieces and…
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Reminds me of a Fassbinder film in some ways oddly enough, specifically one of his Weimar era period pieces - it has that same aesthetic and some of the same power games. The maximalism here is really at odds with the stripped back icy bourgeois dramas Chabrol would be specializing in for much of the 90s and 00s, and I can't say the episodic plot entirely comes together but I wasn't bored and the rampant amounts of nudity and sex give this a proximity more to 70s Eurocult films than what I'd expect from Claude. Strange Lolita-esque tale that will alienate many.
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came for andrew and stayed for andrew. because what even is this about wtf i feel like they got lost in the plot? i love the art and design of all this but which part was it necessary for? this was supposed to be about writing and yes sexual escapades but much of this felt so unnecessary and basically boring.
barely halfway through this i started getting bored and just didn't know where this was going. there are of course some serious and weird issues with minors. like what the hell was that wedding thing. i feel like i just didn't get it?
but i have to admit what i really liked was the forward to when henry miller is an…
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“And the dicks multiply !”
Quote of the yearFirst time seeing a three people wedding including two grown men and a 15 year old girl, this movie really is risking for people who make it and people who watch it. Cuties is nothing compare to this movie.
I think in the past some people (mainly artists) know they have lower life expectancy rate so they open up themselves to everything and see decadency and art as the correct way to live. And when some of them make it to old age they begin to caught in nostalgia and depression because they can’t get their dicks hard anymore.
Art and literature are just disguises for some men to hide their…
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Not one of Chabrol's finest works by a long way, but looks gorgeous throughout, like a French postcard from the thirties. Adapting the work by Henry Miller is a brave move that for the most part works, but the story itself is flat and very self indulgent. This seems well out of the director's comfort zone considering his solid work in the crime thriller genre, but maybe he fancied himself a few quiet days too.
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Looks stunning with all the artworks, costumes, Art Deco & more, however it is a muddled work, obsession with underage girls, seems to be the theme but then it leaves the story of Miller’s formative years in Paris as a lukewarm sideshow, if it’s about his writing then why the full frontal gratuitous nudity? Lead not grungy or dirty enough to be Miller.
Weird film that I think has more than i deciphered. -
I rather like this Claude Chabrol film which I understand there seem to be not very many people who do like it. It is also not at all like Chabrol’s usual films and this may be a problem. There is another, Quiet Days in Clichy (1970) by the Danish Jens Jorgen Thorsen that people also not like and at the time, as soon as the rather rude stuff began people ran out of the cinema. Chabrol’s film in 1990 is very much more lovely and beautiful but people not liked it any better. I suppose that Henry Miller not all loved his books and even if they do then they maybe don’t like the films.
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różnica między paryskim żulem a amerykańskim pisarzem paryskiej bohemy lat '30-tych jest taka, że ten drugi opisał to co przeżył i jeden i drugi, dużo kabotyństwa i degeneracji zwanej ładnie dekadencją, mało sztuki, choć wszystko było sztuczne i wszystko płynęło, ładne kobiety, estetyczna nagość i zdjęcia...
Paryż, lata 30. Henry, młody pisarz niedawno przybyły z Nowego Jorku, rozpoczyna pielgrzymkę przez paryską noc, która pozwala mu wejść w kontakt z najdziwniejszymi postaciami i całą magią i zmysłowością miasta. Przypadkowo spotyka Alfreda, playboya, który wprowadza go w najbardziej zboczone kręgi Paryża. Jego siedzibą jest Melody, bar randkowy, do którego chodzi również prostytutka Nys. W domu Alfreda Henry spotyka również młodą Colette, z którą nawiązuje dziwny romans.
Expatriate Henry Miller indulges in a variety of sexual escapades while struggling to establish himself as a serious writer in Paris.
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I'm no Chabrol completist, but it's interesting to dabble in each decade of his oeuvre. This is the low point...I almost said "so far," but after this, I don't really want to keep going. That being said, I had a thought about the film's ancestry in the last 10 minutes or so. Its two male leads—who make hedonism look excessive even to hedonists, this Brit and this American who carouse around Paris, never without a freshly-lit cigarette and several half-dressed women—they suddenly reminded me of the two leads from Rope. But whereas those "boys" were fairly contained, gay hedonists of a philosophical type, these two are straight young men obsessed with all things literary, not so much experimenting with ideas…
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The better of the two Henry Miller films released in 1990 but not without its problems. Chabrol's attempt to polish up Miller's grungy novella completely loses the author's on-the-brink intensity, and a miscast Andrew McCarthy (hopelessly naive and placid) doesn't help matters. As an auteurist work, though, this has its pleasures, containing much of Chabrol's characteristic sinister pans, elegant framing, and observant surface detail. The film at times almost works as a spiritual companion to Kubrick's Lolita, especially when it's focused on the enigmatic Stephanie Cotta as the underage ingenue who threatens to upset the sexual freedoms indulged by its two male protagonists (a situation actually benefited by Chabrol's distanced approach). More of a curious experiment than anything, the film's weaknesses at least prove how Chabrol was at his best—and much sexier—when working with less explicit material; under the director's microscopic lens, the excesses here come dangerously close to the clinical overindulgence of Greenaway.