Renoir's Boudu: A Classic Satire of Bourgeois Folly

Boudu Saved From Drowning
Criterion Collection// 1932 // 84 Minutes // Not Rated
Review by Steve Evans

The pitch:

A sharp class satire by that master of cinema, Jean Renoir, son of an Impressionist painter.

The Criterion Collection delivers a sterling presentation of Boudu Sauvé des Eaux (Boudu Saved From Drowning), a timeless French film and small marvel of social satire, captured seven decades ago in luminous black-and-white by the filmmaking son of an Impressionist painter.

This early 1930s film by master director Jean Renoir presents the folly of Parisian bourgeois as farce—a theme that would dominate his later work and reach its apex with the 1939 production of Rules of the Game, widely acknowledged today both as Renoir's masterpiece and one of the greatest films of all time.

Actor-director Paul Mazursky, a Renoir devotee, would remake Boudu Saved From Drowning in 1986, crafting a similarly broad satire of materialistic obsession and class differences, updated for the Reagan era. Down and Out in Beverly Hills is a fine retelling, and would make a satisfying double feature with Renoir's film, presented here in a beautiful transfer by the cineastes at Criterion.

A bit of plot:

Boudu, a tramp, haunts the parks of 1930s Paris, yearning only to be left alone. When his dog wanders off and abandons him, Boudu (Michel Simon, L'Atalante) despairs of living and decides to kill himself. Wandering into the city, the tramp crosses a bridge near the Louvre and leaps into the Seine. Wealthy bookseller Lestingois (Charles Granval, Golgotha) witnesses this suicide attempt and dives into the river to save the waterlogged bum. He does this as much from an altruistic spirit as a desire to inject some excitement into his life. When he's not cheating on his shrill wife, Lestingois fancies himself an idealistic liberal, devoted to the abstract ideal of Natural Man. Boudu, "the perfect tramp," represents the culmination of Lestingois' liberal-intellectual obsessions.

With the help of several bored onlookers, the bookseller carries Boudu back to his store and well-appointed home on the second floor. Lestingois' high-maintenance wife worries that Boudu will stain the carpets, or worse. The housekeeper, who is also the bookseller's torrid mistress, bemoans the thought of cleaning up after a tramp. Lestingois tells the women to hush, vowing to help Boudu get back on his feet and on a path toward respectability. But the irrepressible vagrant, who never wanted to be saved from the river, repays his benefactors with chaos. Boudu rocks the household to its foundation with boorish behavior and manners befitting a beast. He spits and stomps and smashes dishes in gleeful obliviousness. Boudu is not so much an anarchist (which would require careful calculation) as a force of nature unencumbered by social restraints. He is, quite plainly, a pain in the ass.

Aesthetics, Thematics & Context:

Satire may be the most difficult of literary forms to translate into film. Whether cloaked in bitterness and pessimism or ham-fisted proselytizing, there's always a risk that the satiric film will send an audience reeling for the exits—especially if they are the targets of the mockery. Even seasoned film buffs may be hard pressed to name more than a dozen successful cinematic satirists; most people draw a blank after dropping the names of Kubrick, Lindsay Anderson (O Lucky Man!), or more recently, David Fincher (Fight Club). Satire works best when it antagonizes, when it holds up a fool's mirror before an audience. This shock of recognition can only be a good thing, as complacency is the moss that gathers on a stagnant soul.

Renoir and star Michel Simon acknowledge in an interview on this disc, conducted more than 30 years after Boudu's initial release in 1932, that police were called to restore order at several first-run theaters. Turns out French audiences were outraged by Boudu's antisocial behavior, which remains fairly obnoxious today. Renoir recalls that his picture was even pulled from some theaters after three days due to the angry reception. Society ladies, especially, complained they were offended (or were they threatened, maybe even aroused?) by Boudu's rakish charm. They could not forgive his penchant for polishing his shoes with a woman's silken undergarments and bed sheets, or his rather nasty habit of spitting in rare books of an intellectual or poetic bent, especially volumes of Voltaire.

Yes, it seems Renoir plucked all the right nerves.

Criterion provides a sparkling transfer of this 77-year-old film, with a remarkably clean mono track and a marvelous set of extras. Perhaps the best supplemental feature on the disc (there is some competition here) is a virtual tour of 1930s Paris, incorporating maps, film clips, and uncommonly intelligent narration. The 1967 interview with Renoir and his star offers superb perspective on the film. Their comments make it clear that working on Boudu was a career highlight and the beginning of a lifelong friendship.

Only the absence of a commentary track prevents this superb disc from flying into that rarefied realm of perfection. A 12-minute interview with filmmaker Jean-Pierre Gorin, recorded in 2005, merely whets the appetite for a feature-length commentary.

Why is this important? Because history can become confused and obfuscated, depending on who’s telling the story. The lingering influence of Boudu, from staged play (by René Fauchois) into film, demands clarity and candor.

Renoir infused his films with symbolism and metaphor, while drawing inspiration from his father, Impressionist painter Auguste Renoir, in terms of composition and setting. Today, the son's influence on cinema arguably exceeds the significance of the father's work as a painter. A decorated veteran of World War I, Jean Renoir's experiences in battle never dulled the essential humanity at the core of his art—even when he was at his scathingly critical best in films like Grand Illusion. So a commentary track by a Renoir expert would have added to our appreciation of Boudu. Still, Criterion delivers a superb selection of added-value content, as is their custom. Their DVD product costs a little more, but you can see, hear and feel where that extra money went.

As a freewheeling film fan, I would not restrain Monsieur Boudu, who is undoubtedly raising hell somewhere even as I conclude my thoughts on an entertaining and timeless film by Jean Renoir, one of the great provocateurs of world cinema.

So let us dispense with further verbosity and get down to it: Boudu Saved From Drowning belongs in any serious collection.

Copyright © 2008 by Cinematic Cteve // dba Cinema Uprising. All rights reserved.

Jules and Jim (Criterion Collection)

By Steve Evans

Another review of a classic motion picture by your devoted writer, Cinematic Cteve. I will watch this today and be stunned all over again. No serious film collection is complete without this picture:

"Jules and Jim" (1962); directed by Francois Truffaut.

The Pitch: "We played with life and lost."

Plot

A masterpiece of the French New Wave, this sensuous, enigmatic film spans 30 years of friendship and love in a doomed ménage à trois. Cinematic Cteve says, "c'est merveilleux...."

Best friends Jules and Jim (Oskar Werner, Fahrenheit 451), and Henri Serre, (La Révolution Française) enjoy the carefree life of affluent intellectuals, indulging in the pleasures of pre–World War I Paris. Austrian biologist Jules embraces the city as he would a lover, if he could find the right girl. He takes occasional comfort in the company of "professionals," although Jules tells Jim he grows weary of meaningless liaisons, the empty exchange of francs. Women glide into bed with the introspective Jim, a writer who remains too detached, too doggedly independent to form any lasting relationship.

A love triangle develops when they meet Catherine (Jeanne Moreau, La Notte), a passionate, impulsive, and intensely desirable woman whose lust for life burns like a supernova. The attraction between them is immediate. Although the men have shared women before, Jules implores Jim to stand aside; "Not this one," he tells his friend.

Catherine and Jules begin a joyous romance and marry in the days before the long shadow of World War I casts Europe into darkness. Jules is called to duty by the Austrian Army; Jim enlists with the French. Although they fight on opposing sides, their friendship endures. Jules writes impassioned letters to Catherine, but the distance between them soon involves more than geography.

Reunited years later in Paris, the friends take up residence in a mountain chateau nestled in the French countryside, where Catherine has grown dissatisfied with the passive Jules. Realizing this, his pain manifests itself in quiet glances, small gestures, and thinly veiled pleas for advice from the worldly Jim. Now callous and contemptuous, Catherine seduces Jim into an uneasy affair. Jules remains so devoted to both that he cannot bear to leave.

The years and the war have altered the carefree dynamic that once existed between the men and especially their muse. Catherine's spontaneity erodes into melancholy. Dark impulses bleed through her once-inscrutable demeanor. Jules wonders whether he could ever hold on to her heart. Jim wonders if any man could.

Background

Gloriously alive and still potent after almost 50 years, François Truffaut's third film is a love letter to the cinema and an astonishingly mature work of art (he was 29 when principal photography began in 1961). In its multilayered exploration of life, love, and doomed romance, this is truly a film where the significance of the journey exceeds the importance of the destination, which is inevitable.

An omniscient narrator speaks neutrally about what has passed. His voice echoes how Jules and Jim and Catherine feel, as his words supply the occasional hint of what is to come. Timeless themes of friendship, love, and the joy of living are burned into the early frames of this film, just as sexual obsession, disillusionment, and despair dominate the final act. It's as though Truffaut did not so much conceive a masterwork as he channeled artistic genius from the sum total of European experience in the first half of the 20th century. There are scenes so achingly beautiful, their essential truths so profound, that viewers might wonder: Was the French auteur a mere alchemist, weaving gold from history lessons and experience, or was he some modern Prometheus—breathing life into the film, evoking universal feelings and ideas in such a bold and electrifying manner that film lovers four decades later still gasp at the scope and depth of human experience captured in these flickering images?

Yes, this is high praise. Truffaut and his collaborators deserve every accolade.

Admiration for technique and craftsmanship deepens on subsequent viewings. This may be one of the most carefully constructed films in all cinema, as Truffaut alters the editing rhythms to reflect his characters' evolving situations and, with brilliant results, to evoke even their inner desires. Look again at one of the iconographic images of world cinema: When Jules and Jim marvel quietly at Catherine's beauty, Truffaut famously freeze-frames on her smiling face at three distinct points—like a fashion photographer—as though the men desperately want to preserve this fleeting moment in time. At first kinetic—all zooms and flash cuts and spiraling dolly shots—the flashy camera work gradually evaporates, like Catherine's state of mind, as her marriage to Jules disintegrates.

The performances are staggering, especially the work of Moreau, whose effervescence turns to gloom as Europe darkens and goes to war. As Jules, Werner demonstrates the psychological devastation of a man who loves with all his heart and soul, realizing too late that nothing he can offer will ever be enough for a woman who repays love with cruelty. Serre plays blasé with brilliance as Jim, who sees Catherine as a rambunctious, sexually liberated lover, yet he cannot bring himself to hold her at bay for the sake of his friendship with Jim. Because Catherine cannot choose between these men—indeed, she cannot embrace a single, dominant personality of her own—she dooms them both.

Based on a semi-autobiographical novel by Henri-Pierre Roché, who was in his seventies when he wrote the book, this story—and especially Catherine's character—must have touched Truffaut at some fundamental level. He was not alone. Note the trace elements of this film that director Cameron Crowe lifted for Vanilla Sky.

Technical Details of the DVD

Criterion bestows reverential treatment on a modern classic, this little miracle of the cinema that enriches our appreciation of life with each viewing. Surpassing its own considerable reputation for quality, Criterion offers a restored high-definition transfer, supervised by director of photography Raoul Coutard, that shimmers in satin shades of black and white. Video and audio are impeccable. The bonus material spread across two discs seems nothing less than comprehensive: Two audio commentaries, the best featuring Moreau herself. Video interviews and retrospectives, including a 1977 Q&A with Truffaut made five years before a brain tumor would take his life. Rare images of the original shooting script with Truffaut's hand-written annotations. A 42-page booklet of essays and stills from the film. And these are merely the highlights of a beautiful package: from the provocative choice of cover art, to the telling music that plays over the menu selections. For the discriminating collector, what could be more delightful than acquiring the DVD of a beloved film, meticulously packaged by people who truly understand its beauty and significance? Criterion remains the absolute reference standard for DVD excellence. Bravo.

Coda

Impassioned and exhilarating, Jules and Jim sears itself into the memory like an endless summer kiss that begins, eyes closed, in the fleeting moment before the thunder of an approaching storm.

Own? Yes. Now.

Copyright © 2008 by Steve Evans, dba Cinema Uprising.