A Reflection on the Jean Cocteau Murals at the Church of Notre Dame de France

Jean Cocteau: detail from his Crucifxion scene mural
Notre Dame de France (London, 1960)

ndfchurch.org

 

I. 

 

I am not what you would call a Jean Cocteau specialist: I haven't read of any his poetry, fiction, or criticism; nor seen any of his works for stage and screen, with the exception of La Belle et la Bête (1946), which I watched as a child at school; nor am I familiar with his work as a visual artist, again with a single exception to this, namely, the murals he executed for the Church of Notre Dame de France ...

 

 

II. 

 

 

I'm not French, nor am I Catholic or a Christian of any description, but I do love to enter the church of Notre Dame de France, based in Soho, London - just off Leicester Square - which was consecrated in 1868 (although the original building prior to its redevelopment into a place of worship is somewhat older). 

 

Badly damaged by German bombs during the Blitz, the church had to have extensive structural repairs that were not completed until several years after the War ended.

 

The French Ambassador, Jean Chauval, promoted the idea of creating a sacred space with a uniquely French feel and so, during the 1950s, the French Cultural Attaché René Varin was tasked with commisioning eminent artists of the time to work on the decoration of the rebuilt church.

 

One of these artists was Jean Cocteau who, in November 1959 [1], completed three murals in the Lady Chapel depicting the Annunciation, Crucifixion, and Assumption ... 

 

 

III. 

 

In the first of these, located on the wall to the left of the altar, Cocteau shows the angel Gabriel appearing to the Virgin Mary to inform her that she is to conceive the Son of God - with or without her consent [2]. 

 

The second mural, depicting the Crucifixion of Christ beneath a black sun and adorning the central wall, is arguably the most powerful, even though only Jesus's lower legs and feet - complete with bloody puncture wounds - are visible. Mary is shown alongside, united in grief with two other female figures; Marys Magdalene and Clopas [3]. 

 

There is also another small group of figures, amidst which Cocteau has placed himself and he turns to gaze at the viewer with a look upon his face of an unbeliever who nevertheless possesses a spirit that is deeply religious in nature (see image above).

 

Finally, we see the Assumption of Mary - regarded by Cocteau as the most beautiful of all God's creatures - as she is taken up into heaven, accompanied by an angelic fanfare; something which, to my way of thinking - as a Lawrentian - is literally a fate worse than death [4]. 

 

IV. 

 

Having been restored in 2012, these lovely works can still be freely viewed in the church today (although now placed behind glass for security reasons) and I would encourage readers who may find themselves passing through central London with time on their hands to go and do so.  

For even if you don't much like Cocteau or care for his art - and even if you are a passionate anti-theist - Notre Dame de France is a genuine place of sanctuary from the noise, ugliness, and vulgarity of the world outside its walls.   

Jean Cocteau looking dapper as he sets to work at the 

church of Notre Dame de France (London, 1959)

Photo by Gary Heiss

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Although painted between November 3rd and 11th, Cocteau signs and dates the work 1960.

 

[2] Some readers may recall that I have discussed the Annunciation and spectral rape of Mary in a post published on Torpedo the Ark back in March 2014: click here. 

      I still find the story of how a 13-year-old girl was selected by God as a broodmare (and doubtless groomed by him and his angelic servants throughout her childhood) somewhat shocking.

 

[3] The presence of a group of female disciples at the Crucifixion is confirmed in all four Gospels of the New Testament. However, parallel accounts have led to uncertainty as to their number and identity. I'm following the Gospel of John and sticking with the idea that the Three Marys are the Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalene, and Mary of Clopas.

 

[4] Regardless of what I might think, the Assumption of Mary is one of the four Marian dogmas of the Catholic Church - albeit one that leaves open the question of whether Mary died first, or whether she was raised to eternal life without bodily death (theologians refer to a mortalistic versus an immortalistic interpretation). The Feast of the Assumption is held on 15 August, though it's not something that all Protestants choose to celebrate.  

On the Spectral Rape of the Virgin Mary

Astonishingly, some Christians continue to believe that if they lead modest, conventional lives unblemished by additional sin, then they'll avoid harm and receive God's blessing; or, at the very least, he'll leave them unmolested until they stand before him on the Day of Judgement. 

One might have thought that the shocking story of the girl-child Mary would have taught them differently. For here was a thirteen year old girl who, although born without sin due to her immaculate conception, was nevertheless leading a regular life of moral and social conformity, happily betrothed to a man, Joseph, according to the traditions of her people, and nervously awaiting her wedding night when they would be united as man and wife.

But, having already been selected by God as a broodmare (and doubtlessly groomed by him and his angelic servants throughout her childhood), Mary was never going to be allowed to live a happy, healthy, orthodox life as a Jewish wife and mother. Instead, she would be subject to spectral rape and divine impregnation and obliged to accept her role within a perversely insane religious melodrama:

"This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about: his mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.
      But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, 'Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. ...'
      When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he had no union with her until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus."

 - Matthew 1: 18-24.

What Matthew's account wishes to reassure its readers is that Joseph is placated and, effectively, made complicit in the rape of his young wife and the exploitation of her fertility. It says nothing of how Mary felt about events. For an account of this, we have to turn to Luke. He tells us how God also sent the angel Gabriel to visit the virgin Mary and that he greeted her as the special plaything of the Lord:

"Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, 'Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favour with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus ...'
      'How will this be,' Mary asked the angel, 'since I am a virgin?'
     The angel answered, 'The Holy Spirit will come upon you and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.'"

- Luke 1: 29-38

     
Recognizing that she has no choice in the matter, Mary gives what might be regarded as consent: 'I am the Lord's servant. Let it be as you have said.' Only then, having got her agreement to be fucked, does Gabriel depart. But her consent is clearly rendered null and void given her age and the situation of extreme duress or coercion under which it was given.

It surely doesn't take much to imagine how, despite her resignation, Mary remains distressed; she is clearly agreeing to act in a manner that she would not normally act were she genuinely free to choose. If it's difficult to say no to sexual predators in positions of power and authority, it's virtually impossible to say no to a god: ask Leda. But yes doesn't always mean yes and all the pure white lilies in the world don't make it so.