May 14, 2008
"Le bon dieu sans confession" : happy funeral. (2/8)
« Le bon dieu sans confession » opens on a bourgeois funeral. The attendance is scarce in the church. The camera focuses on the deceased’s wife. In voice over, she starts to tell us her version of what happened, triggering the first of the film flashbacks.
We shall hear and watch several additional testimonies. The flashbacks will sometimes play daringly with chronology : some scenes shall only make sense retrospectively, after watching later ones which nevertheless took place earlier story-wise.
The film feeds us information at a severely controlled pace and keeps us under a very strict diet for our own good. We are long left hungry, in a delightful state of expectations. We initially feel a bit lost and greatly enjoy it. We wonder who the main character really is, but still ignore this ambiguity will play to the end of the film.
A story line progressively appears. François Dupont (Henri Vilbert) is a well-off business man with a working class background. His wife’s money got him started. Their couple is a sensible, unromantic arrangement which seems to satisfy both.
François Dupont and his partner, Varesco (Grégoie Aslan), are no business tycoons : they make good money with an import-export business, as short on glamour as their company modest offices in a popular neighbourhood of Paris.
François Dupont meets Janine Frejoul (Danielle Darrieux), an attractive young woman, through her husband, Maurice (Ivan Desny), a charming loser, who has pitched a business proposal at the no-nonsense trader.
Maurice and Janine Frejoul live in Janine’s beautiful family estate near Paris, in aristocratic grandeur, but money is running short : they can no longer cover the bills.
Like François Dupont, Maurice Frejoul married money, but only as a collateral of love. Money is gone, love remains, on both sides : he is madly jealous of his wife, so far with no reason.
As François Dupont and his partner refuse to go along with Maurice Frejoul’s project, Janine sets on seducing the business man. She easily succeeds, to her husband’s weak protest : he has no alternative to offer, she is the strong-minded one.
Janine Frejoul wants François Dupont’s money, but will not pay the usual price for it. She makes a convincing case their love is too pure to be stained by adultery ; she shall not be his lover until he leaves his wife ; he shall not leave his family until his children have grown up.
François Dupont is a principled man : Janine’s moral « scruples » charm as much as frustrate him, he gives in.
A lovely affair develops, fully platonic, except that François now pays all of Janine’s bills with nearly sexual pleasure.
This is sublimation at its best and a biting piece of social satire, in the line of Renoir’s « La règle du jeu » or Christian-Jaque’s « Un revenant » ; Claude Autant-Lara directs it with indisputable panache.
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May 12, 2008
"Le bon dieu sans confession" : learning curve. (1/8)
Fifteen years have gone by between « Fric-Frac » and « Le bon dieu sans confession ». Between 1938 and 1953, much has changed.
In « Fric-Frac » titles, Claude Autant-Lara was only credited as « superviseur technique » ; cinema reference books have since elevated him to co-director’s status, with Maurice Lehmann.
In 1953, Claude Autant-Lara has graduated to solo-directing, he is among France in-demand filmmakers.
From « Fric-Frac » to « Le bon dieu sans confession », Claude Autant-Lara has been on a learning curve. Cinema too.
As talking movies became the norm in the early thirties, a new art of filmmaking had to be developed. By 1953, it has fully matured.
In 1938, « Fric-Frac » straightforwardly adapted a play. The original material came fully ready with dialogues. A few outdoor scenes were added to reduce the « canned theatre » feel.
In 1953, « Le bon dieu sans confession » adapts a novel. Cinema techniques have improved a lot, technology- but also storytelling-wise.
Lighter and more reliable sound equipment have let talking films regain the shooting freedom of silent movies : actors no longer have to stay put by the microphones, there is no excuse left for « canned theatre ».
In « Le geste et la parole », anthropologist André Leroi-Gourhan argued the standing position led to the invention of speech by freeing our ancestors’ hands. Cinema technological improvements similarly authorised more sophisticated storytelling.
Claude Autant-Lara did more than direct « Le bon dieu sans confession ». With Ghislaine Auboin, his wife, and Roland Laudenbach, he is one of the three writers credited for the adaptation of the original novel and the film dialogues.
« Le bon dieu sans confession » tells its story skilfully and stylishly : we are at the peak of « qualité française ».
Short of reading the book, impossible to say if the three writers deserve to be praised for their adaptation.
Maybe the original novel was as good or better than their script, maybe it was mediocre enough not to rein in the writers’ talent and inspire a real adaptation rather than a run-of-the-mill transfer to the screen.
« Le bon dieu sans confession » is structured like a jigsaw. Even coming after « Citizen Kane » and « Rashomon », the film, telling its story in bits under various perspectives, no doubt struck its 1953 French audience as innovative.
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May 09, 2008
"Marius" : Korda's touch. (3/3)
« Marius » was a hit on stage, but still far from the big screen, though born under a benevolent star : with the advent of talking films, successful plays suddenly became a hot commodity for cinema producers.
Paramount was building studios in Saint-Maurice, near Paris, to supply Europe’s various linguistic markets with talkies and acquired the film rights to both « Marius » and « Topaze ».
« Marius » went into production first.
Three versions of the film would be shot in Saint-Maurice : French, German, Swedish ; the little « marseillaise » story would become an export good.
The French and German versions would be directed by Alexander Korda, a Hungarian-born director; the Swedish one by John W. Brunius.
Paramount had actors under long-term contracts, whom the US Major intended to use rather than the original cast for the French version of the film. Henri Garat would be Marius, Meg Lemonnier, Fanny, Victor Francen, Césat
Pagnol disagreed, Alexander Korda sided with him after watching the play.
After « Jean de la Lune », another Paramount film, based on Marchel Achard’s play, opened to success with its original stage cast of then big screen unknowns -which included Madeleine Renaud and Michel Simon-, Paramount agreed to transfer the full cast of « Marius » from stage to screen.
It was a major victory for Marcel Pagnol, who scored another, even more unlikely, one. He negotiated a share of the film profits and, in the process, earned the respect from the Saint-Maurice studio executives : US Majors may disregard authors, but never shrewd business men.
All would have been well without an unexpected casting glitch : Raimu was under an exclusive cinema contract with Les Films Braunberger-Richebé, the top French production company.
Roger Richebé was twenty eight and one more Marseillais in Paris, where his father had sent him to grow the production and distributions sides of the family company, which owned a chain of movie theatres in Southern France.
The Raimu issue seemed all the more difficult to resolve that, in Marseilles, Toulon, Nîmes, Aix-en-Provence, the Richebé and Paramount theatres were direct competitors.
It nevertheless was, in typically « marseillaise » fashion, directly between Marcel Pagnol and Roger Richebé : Raimu would star in « Marius » ; in all cities where both Richebé and Paramount theatres were present, the Richebé theatres would exhibit the film.
« Marius » shoot could start. Marcel Pagnol was named « premier superviseur » and allowed, even welcomed, by Korda on the set throughout principal photography : the director relied on the playwright to monitor the quality of the sound recording while he focused on the film visuals.
For each scene, Alexander Korda filmed the French version first, then, when he was satisfied, moved to the German one, then left the set to the Swedish team.
The choice of Alexander Korda to direct the French version of « Marius » had been met with the same scepticism and suspicions as the announcement that Pierre Fresnay would play Marius.
Like the actor, Alexander Korda quickly charmed Pagnol, Raimu and the rest of the team by his many talents as a director, storyteller, hard drinker and generally jolly good companion.
Alexander Korda had never been to Marseilles, but had lived in enough cosmopolitan cities, like Budapest or Berlin, to adjust quickly to the atmosphere of the place where his whole film took place and he would never set foot.
« Marius » was shot in fewer than five weeks, without ever leaving Saint-Maurice. Marseilles appeared only on the film programme : a view of Le Vieux Port -the older harbour- and Notre-Dame de la Garde -the cathedral church.
« Marius » was released in Paris in October 1931 and bested « Jean de la lune » box office records.
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