Charlotte Gainsbourg: Transnational and transmedia stardom

By Felicity Chaplin

Actress, singer, indie icon and embodiment of Parisian cool, Charlotte Gainsbourg is one of the most intriguing yet understated stars of our time. This book, the first detailed study of Gainsbourg, charts the trajectory of her star persona across four decades, from her early work with her father and ground-breaking collaboration with Claude Miller to her more recent collaborations with Lars von Trier and music producers like Beck and Air. The book combines textual analysis of performance, costume, place, characterisation and narrative with archival research and extra-cinematic materials to interrogate the construction of Gainsbourg’s persona. As well as providing a comprehensive overview of her career to date, it examines her circulation in a transnational context and across a range of media platforms, exploring notions of gender, beauty and nationality in relation to her embodiment of femininity, Frenchness and transnationality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Manchester University Press
• Release date: Oct 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781526142993

Felicity Chaplin

Felicity Chaplin teaches in the French Studies Program at Monash University

Book preview

Introduction

On 22 February 1986 at the Palais des Congrès in Paris, Charlotte Gainsbourg received the César du meilleur espoir féminin (César Award for Most Promising Actress) for her starring role as Charlotte Castang in Claude Miller’s L’Effrontée (1986). When her name is announced, the camera cuts from the presenters Laure Marsac and Jean-Claude Brialy (who co-starred with Gainsbourg in the film) to the young Gainsbourg, seated in the audience, flanked by her parents Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg. Birkin embraces Gainsbourg affectionately and kisses her on the cheek. When she stands to make her way to the stage, Serge also stands and somewhat forcefully kisses her on the mouth, not once but twice. Gainsbourg then embraces her older half-sister, Kate Barry, before ambling towards the stage, head down with her shoulders slightly slumped forward. Her fringe hangs down over her eyes and she nervously touches her face, clearly overwhelmed by the occasion. She is dressed in a rumpled black suit and an oversized white silk shirt and, like her father, she is sporting a pocket square. Once onstage, Gainsbourg approaches the microphone and whispers a barely audible ‘merci beaucoup’. When the audience erupts into applause, she gives them a faint smile as the hosts tenderly sweep the hair out of her eyes. In one of a series of cuts between Gainsbourg and the audience, we see Serge, still on his feet, cigarette nonchalantly in hand, the epitome of louche in a tailored suit and open shirt that closely mirrors Charlotte’s outfit. We then cut back to a close-up of Charlotte, tears streaming down her cheeks, thanking Claude Miller in a voice so soft that Brialy has to repeat the words into the microphone for the sake of the audience. There is then a cut to Miller who is standing and fervently applauding his lead actress.

This is a significant moment in the formation of Gainsbourg’s star persona for several reasons. First, the César du meilleur espoir féminin is the first of several awards for Gainsbourg, which would culminate in her Prix d’interprétation féminine (Best Actress Award) at Cannes for Antichrist (dir. Lars von Trier, 2009). Second, it demonstrates the prominence of her family in the construction of her star persona. Third, what will become enduring aspects of her star persona are already evident: the timidity, the quiet, distinctive voice, the androgynous laid-back style, the makeup-free face and the unkempt hair. Fourth, the affectionate gestures of Brialy and Marsac and the generous applause demonstrate the enthusiasm and warmth the French film industry has for Gainsbourg, something which is reflected in public sentiment and continues to be so as the actress matures. Fabrice Bellengier writes that following her first starring role, ‘[l]a France entière tombe sous le charme de la timide Charlotte’ (37) (The whole of France falls under the spell of the timid Charlotte). Finally, her somewhat uncomfortable reception of her father’s provocative gesture both exemplifies the controversy surrounding her relationship with him, particularly as it plays out in their music and film collaborations, and foreshadows her working relationship with Danish auteur Lars von Trier.

From these auspicious beginnings, Gainsbourg would go on to become one of the most important and interesting actresses working in French and world cinema today. Her film career, spanning five decades, has seen her work with many significant French and international directors, including Bertrand Blier, Michel Gondry, Todd Haynes, Alejandro González Iñárritu, Benoît Jacquot, Claude Miller, Agnès Varda, Wim Wenders, Franco Zeffirelli and, most notably, her remarkable collaboration with von Trier. In addition to her acting career and famous family, Gainsbourg’s music and status as style icon cemented her celebrity both in her native France and abroad.

Star and actor

The only daughter of iconic Anglo-French couple Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg, Gainsbourg was born in London in 1971 and raised in Paris. Indeed, her bicultural background facilitates her ability to transcend borders and notions of nationality. Since her screen debut at age twelve in Paroles et musique (dir. Élie Chouraqui, 1984), Gainsbourg has to date made over fifty films. Her film work has seen her move across geographic and linguistic borders, making films predominantly in French and English but also in Italian, and in her native France as well as the Americas, Australia, Europe, India and the United Kingdom. Moreover, Gainsbourg’s film output encapsulates a range of genres and codes including arthouse, popular and Hollywood cinemas. Much of Gainsbourg’s star persona is connected to her family, not only in terms of her status as a fille de or ‘daughter of’, but also because she collaborated with her family on many of her early films, continues to make films with her long-time partner, Israeli-born French actor and director Yvan Attal, and has worked with her own children in film, music video and advertising campaigns. Gainsbourg also appears in several films in which she plays a character named Charlotte, demonstrating the predilection for blurring the line between character and actor. These include Paroles et musique, L’Effrontée, Charlotte for Ever (dir. Serge Gainsbourg, 1986) and Ma femme est une actrice (dir. Yvan Attal, 2001). In addition to this, Gainsbourg’s characters tend to have names which have personal significance for her: Lucy (her middle name) in Kung-Fu Master (dir. Agnès Varda, 1988) and Nuovomondo (dir. Emanuele Crialese, 2006); Joe (her youngest daughter’s name) in Nymphomaniac Volumes I & II (2013); and Alice (her eldest daughter’s name) in Samba (dir. Olivier Nakache and Éric Toledano, 2014).

Both Edgar Morin and Ginette Vincendeau draw the distinction between star and actor: while a star is always an actor, an actor is not necessarily always a star. In his seminal book for star studies, The Stars, Morin argues that the star is ‘more than an actor incarnating characters; he incarnates himself in them, and they become incarnate in him’ (38). Gainsbourg’s career displays very early on what Morin calls the ‘reciprocal interpenetration’ of actor and character necessary for the formation of a star (The Stars 38). A further distinction Morin draws that is relevant to Gainsbourg is between star and actor: to be a star, an actor must in some way play him or herself. No matter how famous, a character actor whose roles differ often significantly with each appearance is not necessarily a star: ‘Character actors are not stars: they lend themselves to the most heterogeneous interpretations, but without imposing upon them all a unifying personality’ (The Stars 38). Vincendeau is less interested in the ‘true person behind the star’ than she is in ‘how the perceived authentic individual informs the star’s image’ (Stars and Stardom xi). Similarly, the private lives of the stars are ‘examined only in so far as they form part of their persona’ (Vincendeau, Stars and Stardom xi). Vincendeau defines stars as ‘celebrated’ actors who cultivate a ‘persona’ or ‘myth’ comprised of ‘an amalgam of their screen image and private identities, which the audience recognizes and expects from film to film, and which in turn determines the parts they play’ (Stars and Stardom viii).

For Richard Dyer, a ‘star image is made out of media texts that can be grouped together as promotion, publicity, films and criticism and commentaries’ (Stars 60).¹ In a similar way, when defining a star’s persona, Vincendeau refers to three distinct materials: performance; trade promotion and publicity; and commentaries and criticisms. The films, however, are always central. While the notion of the star may be universal, how a star is constructed can vary depending on the national context. Vincendeau argues that in France stardom is determined by diverse criteria, ‘which follow a rough division between the box-office […] and cinephilia’ (Stars and Stardom 24–5). For example, Vincendeau claims that two of France’s biggest stars, Brigitte Bardot and Jeanne Moreau, did not rate highly in terms of cumulative box-office records, which are mainly dominated by male film stars; however, if we turn to ‘cinephile-dominated historiography, one indeed finds that women have a much greater presence’ (Stars and Stardom 28). In a similar way, Gainsbourg’s popularity is due much less to her box-office credentials than to extra-filmic considerations, such as her status as fille de and style icon and coverage in the popular and fashion press. Like other star systems, the French star system reflects, for Vincendeau, the prevailing values of the society from which it emerged:

men are more prominent than women (in lead roles, box-office rankings, and salaries), heterosexuality is the norm, stars are able-bodied and generally correspond to classic canons of beauty, and the well-connected are favored – as in the phenomenon of the ‘fils de’ and ‘filles de,’ that is sons, daughters, and close relatives of those in positions of power within the film industry … whiteness dominates. (‘From the Margins’ 547)

Gainsbourg’s persona fulfils many of the criteria outlined above: she is heterosexual, able-bodied, white and probably the most famous fille de in France. While she may not conform to the ‘classic canons of beauty’, Gainsbourg does possess a distinctly French form of beauty, often characterised as jolie laide, or ‘ugly-pretty’, which according to commentaries and criticisms accounts in part for her attractiveness and allure. This strange allure, along with her famous heritage, has been utilised not only in cinema but also in advertising, particularly for fashion labels (both high-end and prêt-à-porter) and associated products. As Vincendeau points out, the star’s persona is also a commodity: ‘positioning the performer and his/her work in the market-place and attracting finance’ (Stars and Stardom viii). In this way, the star’s persona also facilitates the promotion and exchange of commodities:

French stars function as ‘ambassadors’ of France in an exchange of commodities officially enshrined after World War II with the Blum–Byrnes agreements, which accepted a large number of American films on the French market in exchange for the export of French goods in which tourism, fashion, food and drink, cosmetics and perfumes figured largely – all commodities easily associated with films and film stars. (Vincendeau, Stars and Stardom 31)

For Guy Austin, too, stars ‘are not just people, they are also commodities, brand names whose capital is their face, their body, their clothing, their acting or their life style’ (2). Campaigns featuring Gainsbourg also tend to draw on the Parisienne-ness of her persona, emphasising her personal style and cosmopolitanism.

Before the 1960s, there was no star system in France comparable to that of Hollywood. Colin Crisp argues that ‘[t]his relative absence of a star system in France is due primarily to the distinctive nature of its production system and the less developed form of capitalism of which that in turn was a symptom’ (224–5). However, Guy Austin contends that since its modernisation into a capitalist consumer society following the 1960s, France subsequently developed a star system of its own in which the power of stars began to influence the production and financing of films (6). French stars also began to be commodities and their images were used in extra-filmic discourses such as advertising and fashion. The absence of a rigid studio system in France, however, meant that French stars had more control over the creation of their star personas, and they brought more of their own personalities to the characters they played (Austin 6).

In a similar vein, Gwénaëlle Le Gras argues that while the French star system is ‘markedly less structured in economic and aesthetic terms’ compared with the Hollywood star system, the ‘volume of films produced, in combination with the prestige of French cinema, nevertheless justifies the use of such a term’ (314). For Le Gras, the construction of French stars follows ‘the same rules as those relating to Hollywood stars’, in that the star persona of French actors is also created through a combination of their public image, screen performances and previous film roles (314). However, Le Gras argues that a film star in France is only truly considered as such if they achieve recognition beyond France, particularly in Hollywood, which is regarded as ‘the standard measure of stardom’ (315). Le Gras argues that this ‘international dimension’ accounts for why we tend to associate more experienced and older French actors with the appellation ‘star’ because it takes time to establish an international career (315). Le Gras acknowledges that the acquisition of international recognition is not dependant on such stars developing their acting careers in the United States:

For most, regular appearances in the handful of French films that get a wide international distribution, a few forays into English-language films, and sometimes an inspiring role for the sake of branding oneself as a quality actor are sufficient to get their career underway and fuel a process leading to international recognition. (315)

This is certainly the case with Gainsbourg who from the beginning of her career was able to slowly build an international reputation thanks primarily to the internationally distributed French films L’Effrontée and La Petite voleuse (dir. Claude Miller, 1988), in which she had early starring roles, and her forays into English-language cinema, particularly in Jane Eyre (Franco Zeffirelli, 1996), which marked her as a serious actor and received wide international distribution.

It should be noted that by the time of Gainsbourg’s emergence as a star, stardom had already begun to cross the threshold into celebrity, a process that was already evident in the personas of French actresses like Bardot and, to a lesser extent, Anna Karina; that is, towards a star whose fame is far more than her film roles. As Vincendeau writes: ‘Bardot’s initial construction as a star through the press and in particular photography anticipated the celebrity phenomenon by several decades. She therefore straddles both classic film stardom, whose heyday in France precisely coincided with the time of her full emergence in the mid-1950s, and the celebrity culture of today’ (Bardot 12). Indeed, Gainsbourg and Bardot are comparable cases: both mix lightweight romantic comedies with more ‘serious’ art films, and their film projects do not appear to directly affect their celebrity status. A bad film review did nothing to lessen Bardot’s celebrity; likewise, Gainsbourg’s celebrity remains influential regardless of how her films are received or whether they are seen at all. This is in spite of the fact that Gainsbourg, unlike Bardot, is a critically recognised international acting talent. In the context of French cinema, Gainsbourg, like Bardot, Moreau and Karina, is not a box-office star: her stardom emerged more from extra-filmic discourse such as promotion and publicity and the popular and fashion press, with her films playing a secondary role in spite of their critical recognition.

For this reason, in this book Gainsbourg’s films are not always paramount in the assessment of her stardom/celebrity. Rather, the approach taken here at times gives more weight to publicity and promotion and commentaries and criticisms than the method initially outlined by Vincendeau for star studies. This does not mean the films are less important – indeed, when it comes particularly to her collaborations with directors like Miller, Attal and von Trier, Gainsbourg’s performance style contributes significantly to the overall construction of her persona. Rather, this book acknowledges that celebrity is a more complex and overdetermined phenomenon than film stardom. This shift from stardom towards celebrity means that the films are often decentred, and more even focus is given to extra-filmic discourse. Gainsbourg’s status as a transmedia star furthers this decentring, forming part of a larger constellation which can be designated ‘Charlotte Gainsbourg’.

An icon of French femininity

Le Gras writes that what unites many French international stars is their capacity to ‘develop their stardom from a strong identification with a French national identity’ (315). This identity is either created from qualities that render them ‘culturally distinctive’ or from involvement in the heritage film genre (Le Gras 315). Neither is strictly the case with Gainsbourg, which sets her apart from other French stars. While her visibility in French culture often informs the way she is written about in the Anglophone popular press – she is described in the media as a ‘French national treasure’ (Bullock), a ‘French star’ (Murphy), a member of the ‘Boulevard Saint-Germain style aristocracy’ (Cartner-Morley 7) and one of the ‘latest crop of stylish Frenchies’ (Fraser-Cavassoni, ‘Secrets of French Style’) – Gainsbourg is in fact rather easily displaced from an exclusively French context. Indeed, she is also sometimes described as Franco-British, British-French and Anglo-French. These varied appellations, along with the cosmopolitanism of her star persona, complicate notions of nationality. In his discussion of French actresses in English-language films, Mick LaSalle argues that Gainsbourg is a ‘special case’, remarking that the daughter of Gainsbourg and Birkin is ‘as English as she is French’ (91). Moreover, a cursory glance at Gainsbourg’s filmography suggests that her stardom developed outside strictly French contexts. The settings and locations of her films, their country of production and the nationalities of casts and crews, firmly locate Gainsbourg within both an international and transnational film context. This problematises straightforward ideas of Gainsbourg’s ‘Frenchness’, while at the same time facilitating her transnational circulation. In fact, Gainsbourg’s Frenchness is seldom drawn upon on the international film stage: in 21 Grams (dir. Alejandro González Iñárritu, 2003), The Cement Garden (dir. Andrew Birkin, 1993), Jane Eyre and Nuovomondo her characters are British; in The Tree (dir. Julie Bertuccelli, 2010) and Independence Day: Resurgence (dir. Roland Emmerich, 2016) she is Anglo-French; and in her von Trier films she possesses no discernible national identity at all. Furthermore, Gainsbourg’s early foray into the heritage film genre with Jane Eyre, contributed not to her Frenchness but to the Englishness of her persona. What Gainsbourg possesses is a cosmopolitan identity that is at once French and not French and it is this which facilitates her transnational circulation.

A transnational and transmedia star

Gainsbourg’s stardom is best described as both transnational and transmedia. According to Sabrina Qiong Yu, a transnational star ‘needs to physically transfer from one film industry to another to make films, often in a different language from his or her own’ (2). Further, Gainsbourg’s stardom can be properly described as transnational because she makes films in both French and English as well as in several different countries; because of the cosmopolitanism of her persona, a cosmopolitanism linked both to her bilingualism² and bicultural heritage; and because of her status as the quintessential Parisienne. Gainsbourg is also a transmedia star. While, as Dyer points out, all stars are ostensibly always-already transmedia (Heavenly Bodies 3), what gives Gainsbourg’s star image a particularly transmedia dimension is that in addition to her acting career, her prominence as a style icon and recording artist facilitates her movement across diverse media forms. Both Gainsbourg’s transnational and transmedia stardom make her a fascinating case study in contemporary stardom and celebrity in a global context. This present study considers the reception of