In Whit Stillman's film, Metropolitan, one character
describes his rival as follows in a funny scene at a Debutante Ball
after-party:
"Rick Von Slonecker is tall, rich, good-looking,
stupid, dishonest, conceited, a bully, liar, drunk and thief, an egomaniac, and
probably psychotic. In short, highly attractive to women."
That description from a 1990's Indie comedy of manners could
apply to Georges Duroy, aka Bel Ami, the
quintessential unlikeable protagonist of Maupassant's 1885 masterpiece. Granted
Duroy is neither alcoholic nor stupid, and he doesn't start out rich.
Otherwise, the description suits him to a tee.
After serving a hitch as a junior officer in Algeria, Duroy,
the son of peasant innkeepers, tries his luck in Paris. A fortuitous meeting with
an old friend launches a career in journalism. Soon, Georges is climbing the
social ladder over the bodies of several influential society women, including
his friend's wife. Dubbed Bel-Ami by one of his mistresses' daughters, he
conquers with a charm reminiscent of the amorous cartoon skunk, Pepé Le Pew.
The rags to riches story incorporates a clever sub-plot in which a cadre of unscrupulous
politicians and their journalist cronies profit from a colonial power grab in
North Africa.
Duroy reminded me of Edith Wharton's predatory social
climber, Undine Spragg (The Custom of the Country). The fictional adventures of
such amoral scoundrels are often more engaging than those of worthy
protagonists. That's especially true when a great storyteller such as Maupassant
or Wharton tells the tale. I highly recommend "Bel Ami" to anyone
interested in the Belle Époque, and especially to those who prefer an acerbic
alternative to a sugarcoated Cinderella story like the musical
"Gigi."
