Alain Delon Understood the Depth and Limits of His Beauty

As I delve deeper into the captivating world of Alain Delon, I find myself utterly enthralled by this enigmatic figure who defied expectations at every turn. Born into hardship and raised amidst adversity, his journey from butcher’s apprentice to silver screen legend is nothing short of extraordinary. The fact that he fought in Indochina, spent time in military jail, and was associated with the underworld, only adds to his allure.


Let me apologize for focusing on Alain Delon’s appearance momentarily. It’s difficult not to, though. You see, during the start of his career, his face transcended being just a facial feature; it was almost an undeniable truth. His feline eyes, refined cheekbones, and lips that were both subtle and voluptuous made Delon often more beautiful than the actresses he acted alongside, who were certainly no wallflowers themselves.

In this film, “Christine” (1958), Alain Delon portrays a character who defies traditional gender roles, playing a womanizing Austrian second lieutenant who becomes infatuated with Romy Schneider’s young singer. This role reversal, where physical attractiveness and vulnerability are transferred to the male character, stirred up an intriguing wave of ambiguity between filmmakers and audiences. Delon’s on-screen persona, similar to Cary Grant’s, often found women pursuing him rather than the other way around. In this movie, he is initially involved in a passionate affair with a married baroness. He encounters Schneider’s character when asked to accompany a fellow officer on a date, and their relationship begins with mutual disagreement. However, her attraction eventually captivates him. The film skillfully explores Delon’s vulnerability, as his character seems to constantly teeter on the brink of romantic catastrophe and even death. He portrays a reluctant Casanova, a melancholic figure whose allure appears to be intertwined with his sadness.

As a passionate cinephile, I find Alain Delon’s striking visage to be a captivating enigma, radiating an intriguing mix of sadness, cruelty, or indifference. Yet, it’s essential to acknowledge that Delon was indeed a masterful actor. However, his on-screen presence was profoundly rooted in his undeniable physical beauty. In this regard, few directors utilized him as effectively as Jean-Pierre Melville did. Melville, a genius in his own right, cast Delon in three of his exceptional police thrillers.

Luchino Visconti, a skilled observer of both male and female expressions, also featured Delon in two of his most notable films, with Delon portraying intense physical roles. In the 1960 film “Rocco and His Brothers“, Delon plays Rocco, a compassionate working-class southern boxer who clashes with his older, rough-edged brother, Simone (Renato Salvatori). The turbulent and violent Simone harbors resentment towards his younger sibling, who excels both in the ring and as a person. A pivotal scene in this emotional drama depicts the two brothers battling over the destiny of a woman they both care for. Throughout much of the movie, Rocco’s kindness and sensitivity towards his brother are evident. Their fight, a prolonged, grueling brawl, is brutal and devastating. As we watch Delon get punched, it feels as if we should shout “No! Not the face!”, but our real concern is for his spirit. In Visconti’s cinematic universe, these aspects are deeply intertwined.

In the acclaimed movie “The Leopard,” released in 1963, Alain Delon portrays Tancredi, the charismatic nephew of the Prince of Salina (played by Burt Lancaster). During the Italian struggle for independence, Tancredi fought alongside Garibaldi, setting the stage for his family’s continued existence. Upon returning home as a war hero, Tancredi becomes infatuated with the lovely daughter (Claudia Cardinale) of a local magnate and eventually integrates into the emerging upper-middle-class ruling class, which will ultimately supplant the aging Sicilian aristocracy.

Towards the end of the movie, regarding Tancredi’s lineage, Lancaster’s character reflects, “You don’t need me to explain the Falconeri family’s background… My nephew’s wealth doesn’t measure up to his prestigious title. My brother-in-law wasn’t a prudent provider. The lavish lifestyle he led affected my nephew’s inheritance. Yet, despite all these hardships, Tancredi was born – the product of these troubles… It seems that one cannot be as refined, compassionate, and charming as Tancredi unless ancestors have squandered their wealth.”

The short speech is both intriguing and emotional, and it highlights the exceptional casting choice by Visconti. A significant portion of “The Leopard” revolves around Tancredi’s unique character, so much so that the prince himself overlooks his own daughter’s affection for Tancredi. He recognizes that this young man is on a path to greater things and thus requires a more appropriate partner. In this role, another symbol of divine screen beauty from the ’60s, Cardinale, is cast. The fate of an entire class rests upon Tancredi, making Alain Delon, with his charming demeanor and hint of detachment, an ideal choice to portray such a complex character.

Prior to becoming an actor, Delon lived a life marked by hardship. At just four years old, he was abandoned by his parents. They briefly resurfaced in his life to sign papers for the French Army, which led him to fight in Indochina during the 1950s. Before his discovery at Cannes in 1956, Delon worked as a butcher and a naval infantryman, spending time in military prison before receiving a dishonorable discharge. Despite finding fame, he retained his rough edges. He had a fondness for associating with mobsters and would often discuss this camaraderie. In 1969, he found himself embroiled in an intriguing, though unresolved, sex-and-murder scandal concerning the mysterious death of a former bodyguard. As time went on, his far-right political views tarnished some admiration for his earlier work; his Cannes Film Festival lifetime-achievement award in 2019 was met with protests. Before his passing at age 88, Delon requested that his dog be euthanized and buried with him – a peculiar demand that his family sensibly chose not to fulfill.

Still, Delon’s retrograde politics didn’t seem to stop new generations from rediscovering the sublime work he did with Melville or some of the brilliant thrillers he made with the likes of René Clément (including 1960’s Purple Noon, still the best adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s The Talented Mr. Ripley) and Jacques Deray (in particular 1969’s The Swimming Pool, which became a major repertory hit Stateside in the plague-damaged year of 2021).

It’s plausible that Delon appreciated how his tough persona balanced the somewhat delicate aspect of his public image. This could explain why he didn’t cling to this image as he aged, instead embracing the development of his physical changes such as jowls and wrinkles in a mature and dignified manner. In the 70s and 80s, he appeared to enjoy portrayals that allowed him to seem ordinary. For instance, in José Giovanni’s film “Two Men in Town” (1973), Delon played an ex-convict who was guided by a prison counselor, portrayed by Jean Gabin, as he navigated the real world and attempted to lead an honest life. A prison official asks Gabin early in the film if he’s noticed any particular qualities in Delon’s character, to which Gabin replies that he sees both hostility and disdain, yet also a hint of kindness. This interaction seems to symbolize the impact of Delon’s performance, suggesting that his presence can evoke feelings of harshness and vulnerability simultaneously – perhaps implying that these extreme traits may not be as distinct as they seem.

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2024-08-23 00:54