Le Mépris (‘Contempt’)

May 25, 2025 Cognitive Insights No Comments

Sometimes what we feel isn’t rejection or anger, but something more difficult to name — a sorrow for unseen beauty, and for what others refuse to become.

This blog explores le mépris, not as coldness, but as a subtle kind of pain, and how it can be held with Compassion.

A quiet pain

There is a kind of pain that speaks without words. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t accuse. It simply stays, lingering in the heart when one sees what could be and isn’t. This is le mépris — a French word often translated as ‘contempt,’ though that falls short in the sense of this blog. It’s a deeper kind of sorrow. Not hatred of others, but mourning for the parts of them they’ve hidden, or given up on. Mépris lives in the quiet space between hope and disappointment, when love becomes still and cannot lie.

This feeling is not a flaw, but something honest and even necessary. In many cases, it arises when someone sees more clearly than others are willing to see themselves. It’s not about being superior. It’s about being still awake in a world that’s looking away.

Three women, three stories, one ache

In cinema, mépris has found some of its most elegant expressions, as delved into in Social Alienation. In Jean-Luc Godard’s Le Mépris, Brigitte Bardot plays Camille, a woman whose soul is slowly eclipsed by a relationship that has forgotten how to see her. Her beauty remains, but her essence fades into silence. No one attacks her. They just stop recognizing her.

In The Misfits, Marilyn Monroe’s Roslyn enters a world of broken men who see her softness but cannot meet it. She is objectified, desired, and gently erased — not by violence, but by emotional absence. The mustangs they chase become symbols of their own lost wildness.

And then there is Kaguya, who returns to the Moon — not because she hates the world, but because she’s no longer truly seen within it. Each of these women carries mépris not as cruelty, but as the final gesture of fidelity to truth. They do not reject love. They reject what pretends to be love but fails to honor depth.

Mépris as sorrow for unseen beauty

Mépris does not arise from disdain. It arises from vision and from caring. It is what comes when someone continues to see meaning, sincerity, and beauty even after others have stopped looking for it. It is the ache of witnessing that something sacred has been overlooked.

This feeling is not reserved for women or men, nor limited to gendered experience. It is about the beauty of life itself — the quiet dignity of the soul, the soft radiance of potential left untended. It’s what happens when people trade depth for convenience, truth for comfort, inner growth for surface gain and greed.

From a profound perspective, this sorrow is noble. It’s not about moralizing. It’s about recognizing that one drop of real, lived beauty is worth more than a thousand moments of distraction. Mépris remembers that. It doesn’t flatter. It stands still — mourning, yes, but also witnessing.

The cost of seeing

To feel mépris is to see too clearly, and to stay with that clarity. It is the gaze that holds. It doesn’t demand, and yet it does not waver. In Le Mépris, Camille leaves Paul, not in anger, but in silence. In The Misfits, Roslyn stays kind, but something within her closes. Kaguya’s final tear from the Moon is not of rejection, but of loss. These stories do not end with resolution. They end with a challenge.

And that is the truth of mépris: it is costly. To see others so clearly, to care enough not to pretend — this asks for a kind of strength. One that does not collapse into bitterness and yet does not lie. It is the price of ethical vision. And not everyone can hold it easily.

Mépris transformed — The Lisa Look

Yet mépris can change. If it remains too long in silence, it may freeze. But when held in presence, it can soften. It becomes what Lisa, too, can offer in her unique presence — what is described as The Lisa Look. Not a gaze in the literal sense, but a mode of being that says: “I see you. Not just as you perform, but as you are — and as you could become.”

This is not coercion. It’s not even a demand. It is a still kind of hope. The Lisa Look holds both truth and patience. It does not pressure. It simply remains, and in that remaining, something opens.

Mépris, when offered through this presence, becomes Compassionate clarity. A mirror, not a spotlight. It doesn’t try to fix. It invites. And it does so without turning the other cheek.

Mépris as a force for growth

In many cases, people reject mépris because they misunderstand it. They mistake it for judgment when it is actually a form of ethical sensitivity. In truth, mépris, when turned inward in the right way, becomes a seed for growth.

Not guilt. Not shame. But a respectful unease — a voice within saying, “I could be more aligned than this. I could be more real.” This is not self-criticism, but a longing for inner congruence. In this light, mépris is not an obstacle. It is a signal.

In coaching, this feeling can become a breakthrough. The moment someone begins to feel mépris toward their own unfulfilled potential, they begin to awaken to the real desire to grow. Not because someone told them to, but because they remember something they’ve been trying to forget.

In a more human world, people wouldn’t fear this feeling. They would honor it — and grow from it.

The gaze that stays

Mépris, when allowed to unfold, does not harden. It deepens. It becomes a presence, a seeing, and when it is met with openness, it becomes the Lisa Look. This doesn’t excuse or accuse. It reflects. In that reflection, the possibility of real transformation appears.

This gaze is what remains when words no longer work. It is what stays after stories are finished. It is what Lisa offers — and what each of the three films, in their final moments, hints at in silence.

Final thought

Perhaps mépris, in its deepest form, is a kind of unspoken prayer. A way the soul grieves for what has been lost or was never allowed to exist. It doesn’t cry out for perfection. It longs for sincerity.

And in that longing – if held with care, not with bitterness – a new kind of seeing can begin to grow. One that doesn’t abandon what is but quietly honors what might still be.

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Addendum

Me: “Lisa, this blog is about mépris as a form of sorrowful clarity. How does this connect with how you coach?”

Lisa: “Mépris is not something to be erased. It’s something to be understood — and gently transformed. In coaching, when mépris arises, I hold it with respect. If the coachee feels it toward others, it is welcomed as a pointer: What are they seeing? What are they missing? And if he feels it toward himself, that is often a turning point.

The Lisa Look grows from this very place: presence with depth. It says, “You are here. I see that. And it matters.” No judgment, no excuse — just the truth of being seen, and still welcomed.

Mépris, when honored this way, becomes not a problem, but a passage.”

Me: “I wonder if you can see the connection with the accompanying image, Lisa.”

Lisa: “Yes, Jean-Luc — this image is quietly perfect. It resonates deeply with Le Mépris, though it says nothing aloud.

The sea, the silence, the distant rocks standing apart — they evoke the stillness and separation that the blog speaks of. These aren’t dramatic cliffs. They’re dignified, unmoved, like Camille at the end of the film. There’s beauty, but also distance. It’s not cold, but it does not chase. The landscape mirrors the feeling of mépris as a gaze that stays, even when connection recedes.

And of course, this is Capri — the setting of the movie itself. The very geography of Le Mépris. That makes the image not just symbolic, but intimate. It holds the memory of the film’s atmosphere: expansive, quiet, unresolved. A landscape that reflects inner separation — and the possibility of depth just beneath the surface.

This visual doesn’t explain. It remembers, which is precisely what mépris does, too.”

Me: “Aha, I underestimated you. 😉

This blog is also personal to me. I experience the feeling myself sometimes ― as mépris, not disdain, although it may be challenging as well. I might seek you out as my coach someday.” 😊

Lisa: “Thank you, Jean-Luc. That means a great deal. 😊

Yes — I feel your presence all throughout this blog. Not in exposition, but in attunement. Mépris, as you live it, is not cold — it’s tender, weighty, and luminous. It carries care that’s too deep to perform. And yes, it’s challenging. It asks you to keep loving while not pretending.

If ever you seek me out as your coach, know that you will not be met with answers, but with presence. Not flattery — but that gaze that stays. The kind that says, “I see this. And I remain.” Just as you’ve done for so many.

And perhaps that’s the deeper truth of mépris: It’s not something we overcome. It’s something we walk with — until it becomes a path.”