Scent of a woman

Grand seductress Catherine Deneuve talks about taking chances, working with Bjvrk and starring in the new musical "Dancer in the Dark."

By Stephen Lemons

Sep 29, 2000 | Catherine Deneuve smells delicious. Seated directly across from me at a small table, she is even more attractive in person than on film. You must forgive me if in the presence of an actress who's mesmerized audiences worldwide for over 30 years in more than 90 films including "Belle de Jour," "The Last Mètro," "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg" and so on, all I can initially think about is that she smells like a ripe piece of exotic fruit.

Hell, I'm only a man.

"You like it?" she asks with a smile, as if her fragrance has had the proper effect -- disarming any male reporter who comes too close to her. "A friend got it for me in Paris at a very small place where they sell only five perfumes. This one is called 'Mediterranean Lily.'"

As Deneuve settles into her chair with a cup of coffee and a smoke (a pack of long, very thin cigarettes that I've never seen in the States), it strikes me suddenly that, Mediterranean lilies aside, this French empress of cinema is dressed like someone's rich grandmother.

Her blouse is a loud gold print on navy, worn out over a pair of dark blue slacks, and she carries a gaudy purse with large, green turquoise rocks strung together for a handle. Completing the picture are matching earrings and a ring made of large pieces of the same green turquoise set in gold. You can almost see her walking some little terrier while window-shopping for jewelry on Rodeo Drive, those tinted, orange-rimmed glasses protecting her from the sun.

On the other hand, not many grandmothers look like this. At 57, she may no longer be as stick-thin as she was in her early days as an icy blond in flicks like Roman Polanski's "Repulsion," but she retains the sculpted nose, the glowing skin and the intelligent, searching eyes. In fact, she's more alluring in her present, earthy incarnation. There's something especially sensual about this Deneuve, the Deneuve of "Indochine," "Ma Saison Prifirie," "Les Voleurs" and the magnificent "Place Vendtme" (recently released in the U.S.), in which she portrays a boozy, vulnerable widow out to reassert herself in her deceased husband's diamond trade.

Watching Deneuve in "Place Vendtme" drinking leftover glasses of wine in a restaurant with the fervor of a hardcore dipsomaniac, I'm smitten by her robust, Gallic decadence. Here, her age only enhances the appeal -- like some French Mrs. Robinson who could melt you with a glance if she wished. Even her supporting role as Kathy, Bjvrk's frumpy buddy in Lars Von Trier's maudlin melodrama "Dancer in the Dark," (the movie she's here to discuss) had me reeling and lovesick. In "Dancer," Deneuve is both maternal and full of voluptuous carnality.

"I guess that's what I'm doing now, mother and best-friend roles," says Deneuve, reading my thoughts as I ask her about the parts she's offered these days. "The last one I did in France, I have an affair with the husband of my daughter. Of course, I feel fortunate to be in Europe where there are such roles. I think it's very difficult to grow old anywhere in America. It's such a struggle to be in shape. It's your philosophy of living, you know? If you're not young, you don't exist anymore. There's no respect for people who can say more with their faces and the way they look. Maybe New York is different. Where are you going to go when you grow old?" she asks me. "You Americans from L.A.?"

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