Review - Le Ciel Est A Vous

October 26, 2019

Le Ciel Est A Vous – France, 1944

I’m not a huge fan of montages. They’ve always seemed to me to be a cheap narrative technique used whenever a writer knows he has to get his characters from point A to point B but isn’t really up to the task. Thus, he simply advances time through a series of brief scenes which, taken together, are meant to convey maturity or advanced skills. The problem with them is that they “tell” instead of “show.” They’re the equivalent of a character looking at the audience and running off a laundry list of events that, taken together, give the impression of growth. (Then I passed the test, after that, I graduated, soon I became a success, and now we can get back to our main story.) Why not just let a character reveal all that’s changed in a conversation?  Have said all that, Jean Gremillon’s well acted, but uneven Le Ciel Est A Vous is in desperate need of a montage. Or two or three for that matter.

This is a matter of perspective, though, and that necessity may depend on when one saw the film. I’m sure that audiences in 1944 needed far less introduction to the tale of Pierre (Charles Vanel) and Teresa Gauthier (Madeline Renaud), which is said to be based on a true story; thus, what seem like gaps in the narrative to me likely posed no problem for audiences upon the film’s initial release. After all, 1937, the year in which the events the film is based on are said to have taken place, was not that far away; audiences could be trusted to fill in any left out details on their own. And while it is possible that audience in present-day France may be familiar enough with the story present in the film, I suspect that today’s moviegoers will not be so lucky; therefore, when a woman whose never been in a airplane before in her life suddenly decides to take a brash pilot up on his offer to take her on a death-defying joyride and then comes out telling her pilot husband that she’ll never tell him not to fly again, it’s quite a jolt that in the very next scene, she’s an experienced pilot with an interest in flying that borders on an addiction. So, yes, a montage would have been appreciated. It’s the least Gremillon could have done, and the lack of one – or any other form of explanation – hurts the film.

Le Ciel Est a Vous is primarily the story of a young woman who finds her calling in the cockpit and sets out to make a name for herself. Her journey begins as a wife and mother of two children, a role that she is not entirely unhappy in. It’s just that she seems to want more. Perhaps that is why she jumps at the chance to run a company in spite of the fact that doing so takes her away from her family for weeks at a time. Sure, the family needs the money, but we can tell that it’s more than that even if she can’t at first.

The film essentially has two parts. First, there’s the set-up. We watch as the family embarks on a new life after the government informs them that the land their home is on is needed for an aerial station. Some might grumble in such a situation, but the Gauthiers take it in stride. As a former World War I pilot, Pierre seems quite happy to make the sacrifice. We then see their early struggles to establish themselves in a new area and the success they find after a wealthy client stumbles their way and gives them a big neon sign as a token of his appreciation. Soon their finances are stable, yet there are lingering insecurities, and soon Teresa accepts the job mentioned earlier.

I liked this part of the film, as I generally like movies about ordinary people and everyday situations. They are easy to relate to. In the second half, Teresa falls in love with flying, and we have a different film. Gone is the talk of sacrificing for family, in its place an obsession with taking to the air. This part of the film focuses less on the family, so much so that their children practically disappear from the film. On the other hand, this part also asks the audience some rather complex questions about what parents priority should be. For example, is it acceptable for them to pursue their own passions at the expense of their children’s security? After all, one accident could leave them without one or both parents. At one point, Pierre openly ponders what the truer expression of love is: protecting what you have or allowing someone to chase a dream even if it could end in tragedy.      

Gremillon’s film has its fair share of memorable moments. Principal among them are Pierre’s passionate narration of the maneuvers performed during an aerial demonstration; Teresa’s emotional homecoming after being separated from the family for a while; Pierre’s reassuring rationalization for missing a chance at greatness; and his pained defense of his and his and his wife’s actions during a moment of great uncertainty and sorrow. There’s also a challenging scene in which Pierre explains to his daughter that they have to sell her cherished piano. In doing so, he is selling her dream to ensure that Teresa can fulfill hers. When the criticism comes toward the end of the film, I could see both sides.

That said, I must confess to being less interested in the film as it went along. There are too many jumps in time and circumstance to remain completely engaged, and since the film focuses so little on the kids in the second half, their experiences are made to seem trivial. Sure, the film gets more challenging at the end, especially when it comes to Pierre and a key decision of his, but it proves to be a red herring. The film ends not in realism, but in the land of forced happy endings. This is a place in which characters act in a way that is the polar opposite of how rationale human beings would, especially given the emotional connection that the two lead characters are supposed to have. And so the film is a tale of two halves, of majestic steps forward followed by unfortunate retreats, of great leaps ahead and narrative choices that diminish what came before. It’s the kind of film that infuriates because so much of it is praise-worthy. I really wanted to like it, yet the memory of the film’s frequent missteps is so strong that I find myself split. I suppose, then, there’s only one course of action - 2 and a half stars. (on DVD as part of Eclipse’s Jean Gremillon During the Occupation box set)

2 and a half stars

*Le Ciel Est A Vous is in French with English subtitles.

Review - Lumiere D'ete

September 21, 2019

Lumiere D’ete – France, 1943

About a quarter of the way through Jean Gremillion’s Lumiere D’ete, I had a strong sense of déjà vu, and in an instant, I was flooded with memories of that American paradise formerly known as 90210 and an episode in which a new girl arrived at the gang’s high school and immediately piqued the interest of Brandon, Dylan, and David – the latter even dedicated a song to her on the school’s intercom/radio station. Soon the most pertinent unknown was just whose heart would remain intact by the time the closing credits began to roll.¹

Lumiere D’ete is not 90210, yet it feels more similar to it than you’d expect – at least the second half of it. The first half – the half I appreciated a lot – plays much more like something from the mind of David Lynch. The film is set in a remote mountainous region of France that is in the process of joining the 20^th century. There, cars drive side by side horse-and-buggies, and a lavish hotel, tellingly named “Guardian Angel,” feels wholly out-of-place. Early on, the hotel seems like a refuge for outcasts and oddballs. For example, one male resident is working on an editorial advocating for the removal of the Eiffel Tower; another woman has been divorced several times and seems as if she uses the hotel as a means of avoiding any further romantic disappointments. There’s even a wealthy patron who has a very unhealthy relationship with the owner of the hotel, and then there’s a particular construction worker who has an odd obsession with a bird. So, yeah, Definitely Lynchian territory.

Into this sea of eccentricity steps Michele, a young woman vacationing with her actor-interior designer boyfriend – at least she will be if he ever shows up. The other guests seem genuinely surprised by her arrival. “Who in their right mind,” they seem to be thinking, “would come to this place?” The woman’s arrival is noticed immediately by the wealthy patron, Patrice (Paul Bernard), and one of his first acts is to have sunflowers sent to her room. Later, we are introduced to Julien (Georges Marchal), a young engineer who is mistaken for Michele’s boyfriend and given access to her hotel room. She greets Julien with a huge kiss before realizing her mistake, and being the gentleman he is, he recognizes the error and leaves to get another room. It’s too late, though. Cupid’s arrow has already struck. The final member of this four-sided affair arrives shortly after, inebriated, disorderly, bruised from a minor motorcycle accident, and emotionally crushed by bad reviews and the public’s rejection of his latest play.       

So, all the players are now in position, and like the 90210 episode, we are left to wonder just who Michele will ultimately end up with. However, if you think about it, there’s really no mystery at all. The boyfriend is a louse who incessantly refers to Hamlet in that exasperating way that only Shakespearean actors in movie do; the rich man is an obsessive oddball who has a slight psychotic streak; and the last one is romantic, but adopts the personality of a jerk. If these choices all sound unappealing, remember that old cinematic troupe regarding jackasses, and you’ll correctly predict the film’s closing frame.

The second half of the film includes a long costume party that boggles the mind. Up until then, the film leads you to believe that this is a fairly isolated area far from the modernities found in Paris. Yet suddenly everyone can get their hands of lavish expensive costumes, and people start arriving in droves, so many that I began to question my earlier assessment of the owner of the hotel. For the first half of the film, the area’s isolation made it understandable that she continues to cling to a relationship that is increasingly less rewarding, yet when confronted with the plethora of men who flock to the party, one has to wonder why she doesn’t just let him go and try her luck with one of them?

I suppose I could praise the film for its impressive cinematography, as there are a number of stunning shots of the French mountainside and areas under construction. I could also laud the impressive work of Madeline Robinson, who makes Michele both authentic and sympathetic, and Madeline Renaud for her intriguing portrayal of Cri-Cri, the owner of the hotel. But if I’m honest with myself, these, as well as the amusing quirkiness of the first half, are all I can really recommend of the film. Were it about naive teenagers who mistake lust for love and obsession for adoration, the film might work; in its present form, though, I have to admit, it’s nothing but melodramatic poppycock. (on DVD as part of Criterion Collection’s Eclipse #34: Jean Gremillon During the Occupation)

2 stars

*Lumiere D’ete is in French with English subtitles.

¹If memory serves me, the show ended with the girl singing a song at some musical event and turning down both Brandon and Dylan.

Review - Remorques

May 31, 2019

Remorques (Stormy Waters) – France, 1941

By the time of the release of Jean Gremillon’s Remorques, France had been under German occupation for about a year. When a film is made under such conditions, there can be a tendency to look at it and search for hidden messages or for characters that seem like stand-ins for real and much more controversial figures. However, to do this with Remorques would be a mistake. At the very least, it would be to see the film for what it isn’t rather than what it is, and what it is not is a social yarn in which an villainous force is wrecking havoc upon a powerless or manipulated public. In fact, it is difficult to say for sure what kind of film Remorques actually is. It begins with scenes that resemble those more commonly attributed to an action film, pivots toward one about a man in search of justice, and then veers into classic melodrama. In other words, there’s ample opportunity for the film to veer off course, and the fact that it doesn’t, I suspect, has a lot to do with the storytelling ability of its director, as well as the star power of its lead actor, Jean Gabin.

The film takes place in a seaside part of France, where Captain Andre Laurent (Gabin) commands a rescue ship known as the Cyclone. It’s the kind of job that demands that he always be on call, even on the day of a crew member’s wedding. From there, we get an action packed scene, filled with shots of sweaty shipmates working feverishly in steam filled compartments, as the sea rages all around them. It is as if Neptune himself were standing there willing the full force of the ocean onto the hopelessly overmatched vessel. And yet, it indeed survives, making its way to a damaged ship whose captain is surprisingly less than grateful to see them.

Before I go on, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the importance of the wedding scene that opens the film and whose participants the film frequently cuts back to. Often, in films whose leads characters do dangerous jobs – be they fly fishermen, soldiers, or police officers – wives are portrayed as being the rocks that hold their husbands up, their support and courage utterly unwavering. Remorques begins this way, yet very quickly, we begin to see another side of the sailors’ wives. These are traumatized women, emotionally spent after so many nights spent waiting for their husbands to return alive, and while they may want to play the role that society expects of them, there comes a time when they simply can’t anymore, at least not in the same way as they used to.

Also, during that opening scene, a crew member offers a toast that includes the observation that a seaman has two loves. This is spoken of as if it were an everyday truth, yet throughout the film it is this dual loyalty that is at the heart of so much of the drama that transpires, pitting crew against family and blinding men to the depths of the emotions underlying their wives’ words. In a way, the film is less about rescues or ungrateful captains who need to be rescued than it is about what happens when what two people need in order to carry on are no longer identical.

The film’s primary drama comes after the Cyclone is dispatched to rescue a ship captioned by a man who makes the rescuers waits simply because the help didn’t arrive quick enough. On board the stranded ship are a crew of nearly mutinous sailors – and for good reason – and the captain’s bitter wife, Catherine (Michele Morgan), who can’t wait for an opportunity to get as far away from her selfish husband as she can. The extent of her loathing of him can be seen in her willingness to get into a raft in the middle of a ferocious storm and take her chances at survival. Catherine eventually plays a big role in the film.

Around the same time, Andre’s wife, Yvonne (Madeline Renaud), finally makes her unhappiness known and in a pivital scene, pleads with her husband to give up his life on the sea. Left unsaid is the physical toll his job is taking on her, and the film is intentionally ambivalent about the source of her health problems. Yvonne’s scenes with Andre are the kind that stay with you long after the film ends, for they are an array of conflicted feelings and steadfast expressions of loyalty, sometimes to more than one thing. There’s a sense that this is the last hurrah for the two of them, the last chance to rekindle the sparks of love that have begun to flicker and to steady the mind that has steadily begun to wander. And all the while, the sea, that inconsistent entity that has no qualms about disrupting critical moments or postponing vital exchanges, is out there, its winds picking up, its mythical sirens sounding their resolve-bending voices.

Remorques is a fascinating film, with moving characters in relatable situations. It is anchored by great performances and helmed by a director who trusts his actors to make their own memorable moments. His direction is minimal during critical conversations, yet he captures side glances, eye movements, and subtle gestures that tell more than any long-winded speech could. Later, in the film, Gremillon focuses on a character whose has just realized that she has lost in the game of love, and instead of beginning one of those standard tear-filled expressions of remorse, she simply summons the strength to ask for her bags to be packed. Nothing else needs to be said, and what follows is a one of those perfect cinematic partings, one in which the character speaks of what she’ll never have again in a such a way that we all understand the depths of her sacrifice. It really is a quite a moment. In truth, Remorques is a film filled with so many of them. Sure, the film has a predictle third act, but up until that point, it is absolutely spellbinding, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to discover it. (on DVD as part of Eclipse’s Series 34: Jean Gremillon During the Occupation)

3 and a half stars

*Remorques is in French with English subtitles.