Showing posts with label Jean Gabin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jean Gabin. Show all posts

Saturday, September 23, 2023

French Cancan













































Director Jean Renoir on the set

Jules Chéret posters
















FRENCH CANCAN             A                                                                                             France  Italy  (102 mi)  1955  d: Jean Renoir

Yes, it’s true.  I’m his mistress and I’m proud of it.                                                                    —Nini (Françoise Arnoul)

Renoir’s first film made on his native soil since RULES OF THE GAME (1939), having fled to America during the Nazi occupation, this celebrates all the remarkable attributes of a “Renoir” film, becoming a loving tribute to Parisian bohemian life immersed in candy-colored images that border on French cliché.  While it’s a Technicolor extravaganza, the film revisits La Belle Époque of the 1890’s in all its cinematic glory, eliminating the filthy streets and squalor in order to invoke a more glamorous atmosphere of dreamy Paris, providing a kind of ho-hum storyline written by Renoir and screenwriter André-Paul Antoine, both getting their starts in the 1920’s, where the dance sequences add a needed shot of adrenaline, evoking the paintings of Degas and the Impressionists, including the director’s own father, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, with the screen literally exploding with music, dancing, and color, especially during the spectacular finale.  Based on the life of Charles Ziedler (changed to Danglard, played by Jean Gabin, Renoir’s star through much of the 30’s), the man who founded the Moulin Rouge on the site of the old Cabaret of the White Queen, it is a story going back to Renoir’s roots in Montmartre, the world of his childhood and of his father.  The film was extremely popular at the box office, praised as a tour de force success, even by the young guns at Cahiers du Cinéma, including François Truffaut, Claude Chabrol, and Jean-Luc Godard, who otherwise delighted in scathing rebukes of French films in general, except those of Renoir, running several pieces, accompanied by a positive review from editor André Bazin, who described the director as having reached a level of maturity, and was at the pinnacle of his “classical style,” claiming he couldn’t “imagine a more perfect homage to Auguste Renoir.”  Released in America as ONLY THE FRENCH CAN, with supposedly inappropriate footage cut, Renoir’s American films were not highly regarded in France, with many still angered that he left the country during the war, and were inclined to believe that he was an artist in decline, though Éric Rohmer at Cahiers considered THE SOUTHERNER (1945) “the apex of Renoir’s work,” with some praising the pre-war Renoir “of the left” while others praised the post-war Renoir of “pure cinema.”  Danglard is the aging protagonist, a nightclub impresario who shrewdly thinks he can take a hopelessly outdated dance club in a disreputable working-class neighborhood and turn it into a popular new attraction, a French cabaret associated with a chorus line of female dancers doing the can-can in skirts and petticoats doing high kicks, splits, and cartwheels, as depicted in Toulouse-Lautrec’s La Troupe de Mademoiselle Eglantine, often exposing their undergarments, which was considered scandalous at the time, with societal attempts to suppress it.  Part biopic, part romance, and part backstage musical, this is the only Renoir film that features a director, with the irrepressible Danglard serving as his alter-ego, having his own way of handling performers, where balancing the various temperaments and eccentricities as well as their many talents while putting on a cabaret show parallels Renoir’s own working methods of making films, both dedicated only to their art.  For the most part, Danglard doesn’t do or say much, but simply observes, only occasionally intervening, acting as a medium between the stage and the world at large, taking extreme delight in passively allowing the creative process to develop into a cohesive vision.   

Danglard is overtly class-conscious, aware of the appeal to aristocrats and their thrill of “slumming” among the masses, sensing a bit of danger as they rub elbows with criminals, lowlifes, and the common man, enthusiastically describing the experience he envisions, “A taste of the low life for millionaires.  Adventure in comfort.  Garden tables, the best champagne, great numbers by the finest artistes.  The bourgeois will be thrilled to mix with our girls without fear of disease or getting knifed.”  With implications that art breaks down social barriers, a peek behind the scenes allows us to see a developing romance happening simultaneously with the concept of building a show.  For Renoir, film movement is an intrinsic element built into his craft, where the ever-flowing river is the essence of The River (Renoir) (1951), the structure upon which the entire film is based, while this film thrives on dance movement, with bodies perpetually in motion, where Michel Kelber’s camera is always searching for every conceivable camera angle to capture the swirl of motion, where the art of living is captured in that one fleeting moment, while also accentuating waves of color, mirrored in Pierre-Auguste’s painting Bal du moulin de la Galette, which his son actually expands upon in a continually developing relationship with a painting and his own cinematic aesthetic.  It’s the color where this most succeeds, adding details and textures that few other films have found, while perfectly capturing that same spontaneous sense of motion, as if the painting has suddenly come to life, described by Bazin, “Renoir is Impressionism multiplied by the cinema.”  By studying the romantic intrigues of the diverse group of people visiting the popular nightclub, Renoir offers a cross section of society, where we quickly learn that among Danglard’s many attributes is the discovery of new talent in a business he describes to the mother of a young girl he recruits to join his group of dancers as “the most wonderful profession in the world,” with Nini (Françoise Arnoul) infusing life into the story, eventually becoming his lover.  All the various relationships are established during an introductory sequence at a popular Montmartre bar and dancehall, The White Queen, where Danglard, his mistress Lola (Maria Félix), and various hangers-on go dancing as they meet Nini, the laundress, and her jealous, overly possessive, young baker boyfriend Paulo (Franco Pastorino), Michel Piccoli [Le Capitaine Valorgueil] dans ''French Cancan'' (1955) de Jean Renoir YouTube (1:44), a scene that evokes the arrival to Zerlina’s wedding in Mozart’s Don Giovanni, an artist who shares Renoir’s spirit of generosity and universality, where nobles and peasants, as well as masters and servants meet in one of the most gorgeous musical ensembles in opera.  From the outset, Danglard is beset with financial woes caused by financier Baron Walter (Jean-Roger Caussimon) in retaliation for his amorous exploits, crossing the line, so to speak, with Lola, the subject of his own amorous interest, using money as a weapon to drive him out of the picture, bankrupting his club while going after his possessions to cover the outstanding debts.  Nonetheless, Danglard shrugs it off with a casual air, always offering a monetary token of his appreciation to beggars on the street, as Renoir has always been fascinated by those living on the margins.  Among his many truisms spoken throughout the film, Danglard seems to be speaking for the entire profession when he says, “We artists are at the mercy of the men with money.”

The European morality on display might seem scandalous in America, with Danglard a serial womanizer balancing three different lovers, Lola, Nini, and a new love Esther Georges (Anna Amendola), initially seen in a neighboring apartment singing what amounts to the theme song heard throughout the film about destitute lovers, written by Renoir, actually sung by Cora Vaucaire, Extrait du film French Cancan (1954) 🎬 - La Complainte de la Butte - Moulin Rouge YouTube (2:59), yet Danglard is married only to his art, where the obvious age difference sets a precedent for the 70-year old Maurice Chevalier in GIGI (1958), as the grey-haired Gabin was 50 when the film was made, where his love tryst with Nini (Françoise Arnoul was 23-years-old at the time) might turn heads, with most believing him to be her father.  Nini quickly gives up her virginity to the baker, believing that’s what she’ll have to sacrifice anyway, thinking a sexual transaction between patron and protégée is all part of the business, but she is pleasantly surprised to discover that’s not a condition of employment, adding an underlying context that sex, money, and the theater are inexorably linked.  Renoir was equally unphased in these matters, having grown up in a household with a casually hedonistic view of women that seems pervasively French, with glaring signs of sexism, but then the same could be said of nearly all films made at the time.  Of note, Nini has her own suitors, rotating between Paolo, Danglard, and a wealthy young foreign Prince Alexandre, played by Giani Esposito, one of the featured stars in Rivette’s PARIS BELONGS TO US (1961), who promises to lavish her with jewels and opulence, with Lola veering between Danglard, Walter, and Captain Valorgueil (Michel Piccoli in one of his earliest roles).  There’s no moral denunciation of these multiple partners, though jealousy does rear its ugly head on multiple occasions, typically used to accentuate the drama, yet Renoir is open and honest about it, and does not hide behind any veiled hypocrisy.  When Nini arrives for the strenuous stretch exercises in Madame Guibole’s dance class, it not only reminds us of a Degas sketch, but it foreshadows what’s to come, as the show sequences are overwhelmingly female, where the women become the real stars of the film.  Nonetheless, the cancan dance itself is an erotic spectacle, with little left to the imagination, where it would be hard to deny the level of female objectification, perhaps a textbook example of the male gaze.  Brigitte Bardot and Jeanne Moreau were dressed as cancan dancers in the Mexican outback of Louis Malle’s VIVA MARIA! (1965), so there is a level of sexualized carry-over.  Shot entirely on studio sets (the original locations no longer existed), the streets in particular look artificial, lacking the effusive energy of any city street, giving this a very stylized look, lacking the social realism of the director’s earlier French films, causing some to lament a lowering of his standards.  In an interesting aside, Renoir filmed a cancan sequence in his earlier silent era film NANA (1926), Nana (Jean Renoir, 1926): Cancan YouTube (1:32), but he was frustrated by the lack of sound, vowing to make a musical, taking him nearly thirty years.  In a nod to that era, one of the hammiest onscreen performers, Casimir le Serpentin (Philippe Clay), can be seen breaking out into song to the accompaniment of an unseen orchestra.  

Once the Prince enters the picture, and it’s clear Nini doesn’t love him, preferring the love of the theater, she agrees to spend a night on the town with him before he leaves, which allows Renoir to escalate his mythical image of Paris in a heavily romanticized pastiche, shown through a rapidly changing, sequential montage visiting all the nightclubs, which are cabaret acts with painted backgrounds, spending only a minute or so in each, using contemporary singers to impersonate Belle Époque stars, featuring Patachou as Yvette Guilbert, and the legendary Édith Piaf in a brief appearance dressed in her signature black attire as Eugénie Buffet, where the two are inevitably linked in the history of chanson réaliste, Piaf dans 'French Cancan' de Renoir 1954) HD 720p YouTube (42 seconds).  Also included is a montage of Jules Chéret posters for La Taverne Olympia, Les Folies Bergère, and Le Nouveau Cirque, some of which were seen in the opening credits, French Cancan (1955) title sequence YouTube (2:11).  While Nini and the Prince are part of an appreciative audience, their reactions couldn’t be more different, as she’s rapturously delighted, visibly moved by what she sees, while he only has eyes for her, as if lost in a dream that eventually has to come to an end.  That same sense of exaggerated cinematic intoxication drives the exhilarating extravagance of the finale, which essentially shows the birth of Nini as a performer, where a costume drama, a romantic film, and a musical comedy finally merge together in an all-out assault to the senses, where the return of the cancan onstage is associated with nothing less than the liberation of France after the war, where the patriotic delirium is the same, like an ode to joy, as if expressing the very soul of what is quintessentially French.  It’s here that the women are the real stars, bursting out of nowhere, jumping onto the tabletops in their colorful costumes before taking over the expansive floor space, becoming a dazzling and empowering spectacle, as the men simply take a back seat, overwhelmed by the glorious sensuality they see, almost as if they can’t believe their eyes.  This extraordinary visualization represents a return of the very heart of the country, something that had been missing for far too long, where the impact is nothing less than overwhelming, French Can Can dance scene part 1 YouTube (3:04), French Can Can dance scene part 2 YouTube (2:48), French Can Can dance scene part 3 YouTube (3:02).  Despite all the theatrical fireworks, one of the most poignant scenes is a quiet moment of Danglard sitting backstage alone, where we hear the bombastic music onstage, but he’s simply ecstatic with the realization of what he’s created.  The dance offers a striking motif, mirroring the vivid and dynamic women in the Chéret posters we see throughout the film, rhapsodic images of the joy of movement.  The cancan is the culmination and professionalization of earlier styles of dancing practiced throughout 19th century France, adding various international forms of “skirt dancing.”  Its origin is shrouded in mystery, becoming an erotic display of women’s legs, with the lifting of their skirts, the high kicks, and the splits, while also offering a carnivalesque view of their backsides, as the dancers literally embody irrepressible joy, energy, and movement, where the extreme physical pleasure it exudes is nothing less than spectacular, a feast for the eyes, mirroring the enduring legacy of Renoir’s illustrious return to France.              

Watch French Cancan Full Movie Online Free With English ...  entire film with subtitles may be seen on FshareTV (1:43:47)

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Journey Through French Cinema (Voyage à travers le cinéma français)














JOURNEY THROUGH FRENCH CINEMA 
(Voyage à travers le cinéma français)        B                    
France (195 mi)  2016  d:  Bertrand Tavernier

Born in Lyon, home of Lumière’s first studio that is considered the birthplace of film, so Bertrand Tavernier, director of such diverse films as A SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY (1984) and ‘ROUND MIDNIGHT (1986), feels an inherited birthright to preserve what survives of French film.  Given the best of a postwar education, Tavernier is the son of a Resistance fighter René Tavernier who provided shelter to French communist poet Louis Aragon during the occupation, a patriot whose writings and moral outlook helped shape his view as an artist, as his father believed words were “as important and lethal as bullets.”  Accordingly, Tavernier devoured French films as a child, deciding at the age of fourteen that he wanted to direct, keeping a scrapbook of cinema memorabilia for his favorite films and directors, developing a lifelong obsession for French film’s place in history, which this film lovingly examines over the course of more than three hours, exploring directors, composers, and actors, providing a treasure-trove of clips while offering his own unique commentary.  This is a whirlwind project that may only just be the tip of the iceberg, as Tavernier plans an additional 8-hour television series that delves into Tati, Bresson, Pagnol, Ditri, Clouzeau, French cinema during the occupation, foreigners working in French cinema, forgotten people like Raymond Bernard, Maurice Turner, or Anatole Litvak, and lesser known women or underrated directors, including an additional 40-minutes on Julien Duvivier, one of his personal favorites.  So consider this a Master class on French films, perhaps a parallel work to Godard’s HISTOIRE(S) DU CINÈMA (1989) or Scorsese’s A PERSONAL JOURNEY WITH MARTIN SCORSESE THROUGH AMERICAN FILMS (1995), but viewed through the gentle refinement of a man of letters, as Tavernier has been described as “a warm and gregarious man with an encyclopedic knowledge of American and international film,” who has worked within the industry his entire life and currently serves as the president of the Institute Lumière in Lyon, while Cannes Festival director Thierry Frémaux, a graduate of the university, is also its director, where the primary goal is preserving French films.   As a law student who preferred to write film criticism, Tavernier founded his own cinema magazine L’Etrave, worked as an assistant director with Jean-Pierre Melville, and got a job as a press agent to help usher in the French New Wave, so it appears there is no one better to provide a bridge between the past and the present for modern day viewers.    

One of Tavernier’s earliest memories at the age of four is looking out the window and seeing bombs flashing in the sky, which he feels is reminiscent of a similar feeling he gets when stepping into a movie theater, where in a darkened theater a projector illuminates images that bombard his imagination.  At about the age of six, he was sent to a sanitarium where he was bedridden while treated for a misalignment of his eyes probably due to tuberculosis, very possibly caused by malnutrition due to wartime shortages.  Once a week they showed films at the sanitarium, where the first film he recalls seeing is Dernier Atout (1942) by Jacques Becker, which left him deeply impressed, claiming Becker loved American films, particularly Ernst Lubitsch and Henry Hathaway, taking from them what he liked, in terms of rhythm and pace, keeping dialogue to a minimum, but making his films exclusively French.  Offering clips from half a dozen of his films, many of which have recently been restored by Pathé and Gaumont, who funded the film, where mutual interests in this project collide, allowing Tavernier to take delight in some of his favorite scenes, pointing out Simone Signoret’s enthralling entrance to a dancehall in Casque d’Or (1952), seen later gunned down on the streets of Paris by Resistance informants in Jean-Pierre Melville’s Army of Shadows (1969).  The opening image of the film comes from Vigo’s L'Atalante (1934), one of the most enchanting films ever made, claiming the music composed by Maurice Jaubert gave the film a sublime lyrical quality, with Tavernier standing in front of the camera overlooking a beautiful pastoral view from his home, recalling his initial taste of cinema where he rarely left the screening rooms of Henri Langlois’s Cinémathèque Française, taking it all in, where he still recalls taking to the streets in May ’68 to defend the proposed firing of Langlois by French culture minister André Malraux, but New Wave filmmakers protested, shutting down the Cannes Film Festival that year until he was reinstated to his position.  Tavernier tries to restore the fallen reputation of Marcel Carné, claiming the man couldn’t write a screenplay, yet could direct masterpieces, holding a special affection for Hotel du Nord (1938), claiming it is years ahead of its time in depicting the working conditions of women, while making no moral judgments about prostitutes and homosexuals, instead showing them with a great degree of warmth, finding a common humanity.   

Tavernier exalts in the films of Jean Renoir, while taking a look at actor Jean Gabin, who could do no wrong before the war, displaying his versatility in La Grande Illusion (1937), where he interrupts a vaudeville style performance by French prisoners in a German POW camp to announce a French victory at the epic battle of Verdun, a momentary glimmer of hope, where the entire group spontaneously bursts into singing “La Marseillaise,” but was later chastised for joining Jean Renoir and Julien Duvivier in the United States while France was occupied, where Gabin wasn’t viewed the same upon his return, claiming he spent the war in Beverly Hills.  While resurrecting interest in relative unknowns like Duvivier and Edmond T. Gréville, Tavernier’s insight into Melville is particularly noteworthy, having worked with him at Melville’s own Studio Jenner set, pointing out a familiar staircase used in several films, but also side doors and back alleys.  Melville was known as a tyrant on the set, yet was never punctual himself, often appearing hours after the actors were scheduled to arrive, where Jean-Paul Belmondo goes into a incensed screaming rant on his obvious inconsideration of others on the set of Le Doulos (1963), yet Tavernier also exclaims the virtues of Melville, who loved American films as well, especially William Wyler, recalling a long tracking shot of Lino Ventura running down the street in Army of Shadows (1969), where he refuses to interject music, as American filmmakers would do, where instead all you can hear is the sound of his feet hitting the pavement, nothing else, in a style that more closely resembles Bresson.  Tavernier apparently previewed a rough cut with American director Martin Scorsese, showing him scenes from Jean Delannoy’s Macao: LeEnfer du Jeu (1939), including a terrific tracking shot of a war between China and Japan, with the Japanese relentlessly bombing the city, shown through continual explosions, where houses are destroyed, but the shot ends on the legs of a beautiful woman mending her stockings in the midst of this mayhem.  Scorsese reportedly stood up and exclaimed, “What a great shot!  I want to see that film.”  This reaction is precisely what the director is looking for, to reinstill enthusiasm for French films, both known and unknown, where he greatly admires Godard, Chabrol, and Varda, showing clips from Godard’s Contempt (1963), with the obligatory Brigitte Bardot nude scene (that is not a nude scene) demanded by the producers, but also Pierrot le Fou (1965), Varda’s Cleo from 5 to 7 (1962), holding a special place for Eddie Constantine’s Lemmy Caution in Alphaville (1965), reminding one of the characters who breaks out into English, “Speak French.  Nobody likes subtitles.”  Chabrol is curiously described as “understood only by pharmacists and himself,” as if he’s some kind of danger to the status quo, but by the end, Tavernier is extolling the virtues of Claude Sautet, an author who also studied painting and sculpture before discovering a passion for cinema.  By the end, Tavernier can be seen chatting with Thierry Frémaux, as both are intimately involved with preserving French films.  A beautifully edited work, that includes inspirational clips from Truffaut’s The 400 Blows (Les quatre cents coups) (1959), but also, oddly enough, an evaluation of French film composers, it continuously elicits a love for cinema through an appreciation for French culture, challenging our long-held perceptions with plenty of fresh new insights.