The Grand Illusion (1937)
directed by Jean Renoir
If someone ever made a Rupert Murdoch biopic, they’d have no choice but to compete with Citizen Kane -- and they would come up short. There is no other option; the story of a media tycoon has been told already, and it was done artfully and beautifully enough that in all likelihood no filmmaker will ever surpass it when making a film about a media tycoon. It’s inevitable.
Geniuses, auteurs, propangandists and budding filmmakers have been dutifully making war movies in the 74 years since Jean Renoir made The Grand Illusion. Many of the films made in that time have been truly great, yet in one way or another they are forced to stand in the shadow of this World War I epic.
After their plane is shot down over enemy territory during a reconnaisance mission, Lieutenant Marechal (Jean Gabin), a blue collar pilot and his commanding officer, the refined, upper class Captain Boeldieu (Pierre Fresnay) find themselves in the custody of the German army. Because they’re officers they are well treated and they find compatriots in their fellow French captives. Renoir displays a wonderful knack for using humor and music to convey the bond between the imprisoned men without giving his audience the mistaken impression that the life in camp is simple and easy. Food is shipped in to their well heeled bunk mate Rosenthal (Marcel Dalio) and they have blankets, books and a stove. Things could be worse. Yet, they are not free. Naturally, they attempt to escape.
After their plane is shot down over enemy territory during a reconnaisance mission, Lieutenant Marechal (Jean Gabin), a blue collar pilot and his commanding officer, the refined, upper class Captain Boeldieu (Pierre Fresnay) find themselves in the custody of the German army. Because they’re officers they are well treated and they find compatriots in their fellow French captives. Renoir displays a wonderful knack for using humor and music to convey the bond between the imprisoned men without giving his audience the mistaken impression that the life in camp is simple and easy. Food is shipped in to their well heeled bunk mate Rosenthal (Marcel Dalio) and they have blankets, books and a stove. Things could be worse. Yet, they are not free. Naturally, they attempt to escape.
Their plan is to dig a tunnel under the barracks (sound familiar?) that leads to the outside garden and from there they can sprint to their freedom. However, before they can implement their plan to completion, the prisoners are packed up and shipped off to another camp deep inside the German lines.
It is in the new camp that Capitan Boeldieu has the added benefit of finding himself in the generous good graces of his captor Captain von Rauffenstein played with an elegant vigor by Erich von Stroheimm. Rauffenstein senses an immediate connection with Boeldieu because they share a bond of old world class and all the proper social graces. The two share cigars and talk about life before the war. These sequences not only reinforce the class warfare angle in the film -- which never becomes boorish -- but also help to greatly humanize the German captor. Stroheimm’s effortless ease with multiple languages and his empathy for his new French friend make him seem the most cosmopolitan and gentle warden one could possibly imagine, furthering the sensation of absurdity in wartime mores. It is also a marvelous device to display the identical nature of the day to day life of the French and German soldier before they were charged with killing each other. These are just a hint of the brilliantly subtle masterstrokes used by Renoir to make his anti-war statements without ever stooping to soapbox aggrandizement.
Boeldieu eventually uses cunning and his connections with Rauffenstein to give his comrades Marechal and Rosenthal an opportunity to escape. The sequence that follows is a simultaneously thrilling escape scene and an exceedingly poignant display of selflessness. In Renoir’s capable hands, the mood is never overstated nor does the action ever become didactic. Renoir doesn’t merely explore these themes of sacrifice, duty and the struggle of survival, he reinvents them; shattering preconceived notions on the barbarism of war and the cut and dried natures of its participants.
Gabin and Fresnay are wonderful together. Their class differences supply the subtext for virtually every interaction they share without falling into tedium. And while there is never any actual rift between the two, this separation of upbringing translates into wonderfully palpable tension between a pair of soldiers angling for the same gain; their own freedom.
It is in the new camp that Capitan Boeldieu has the added benefit of finding himself in the generous good graces of his captor Captain von Rauffenstein played with an elegant vigor by Erich von Stroheimm. Rauffenstein senses an immediate connection with Boeldieu because they share a bond of old world class and all the proper social graces. The two share cigars and talk about life before the war. These sequences not only reinforce the class warfare angle in the film -- which never becomes boorish -- but also help to greatly humanize the German captor. Stroheimm’s effortless ease with multiple languages and his empathy for his new French friend make him seem the most cosmopolitan and gentle warden one could possibly imagine, furthering the sensation of absurdity in wartime mores. It is also a marvelous device to display the identical nature of the day to day life of the French and German soldier before they were charged with killing each other. These are just a hint of the brilliantly subtle masterstrokes used by Renoir to make his anti-war statements without ever stooping to soapbox aggrandizement.
Boeldieu eventually uses cunning and his connections with Rauffenstein to give his comrades Marechal and Rosenthal an opportunity to escape. The sequence that follows is a simultaneously thrilling escape scene and an exceedingly poignant display of selflessness. In Renoir’s capable hands, the mood is never overstated nor does the action ever become didactic. Renoir doesn’t merely explore these themes of sacrifice, duty and the struggle of survival, he reinvents them; shattering preconceived notions on the barbarism of war and the cut and dried natures of its participants.
Gabin and Fresnay are wonderful together. Their class differences supply the subtext for virtually every interaction they share without falling into tedium. And while there is never any actual rift between the two, this separation of upbringing translates into wonderfully palpable tension between a pair of soldiers angling for the same gain; their own freedom.
The supporting cast is astonishingly good, especially Dita Parlo who plays the lonely farm woman Elsa. Her beautifully quiet presence is a beacon in the last third of the film and she shines within every frame that she occupies.
This is Gabin’s film though, and he flourishes. He is at times coarse and vulgar, other times lovable and humble. It's an emotional honesty and profundity that is rare and almost non-existent in today's cinema. Gabin’s Lt. Marechal contains a complexity so richly honest he forges a completely visceral presence on-screen.
Renoir’s anti-war masterpiece is perhaps the finest film ever made about war, but maybe even more lastingly, it also defined many of the individual aspects of the entire genre. There are prison break sequences that helped to set a course for films like The Great Escape. The boredom and comraderie of POW life displayed so artfully here are echoed throughout Billy Wilder’s Stalag 17. Many of Renoir's anti-war devices are also implemented quite well into anti-war classics like Breaker Morant and Paths Of Glory. And these examples can only begin to scratch the surface of its sphere of influence.
Renoir’s anti-war masterpiece is perhaps the finest film ever made about war, but maybe even more lastingly, it also defined many of the individual aspects of the entire genre. There are prison break sequences that helped to set a course for films like The Great Escape. The boredom and comraderie of POW life displayed so artfully here are echoed throughout Billy Wilder’s Stalag 17. Many of Renoir's anti-war devices are also implemented quite well into anti-war classics like Breaker Morant and Paths Of Glory. And these examples can only begin to scratch the surface of its sphere of influence.
Much like Casablanca after it, The Grand Illusion has been copied so many times because it is so perfect. Every worthwhile war film made since seems merely to be an homage to this peerless classic. And Renoir does it all with fewer than ten gunshots. How's that for efficiency? If war films were lightbulbs, Jean Renoir would be Thomas Alva Edison.
No comments:
Post a Comment