Poil de Carotte
Aka. The Redhead
p Marcel Vandel, Charles Delac d/w Julien
Duvivier story Jules Renard ph
Armand Thirard ed Marthe Poncin m
Alexander Tansman
Cast: Harry Baur (Monsieur Lepic), Robert Lynen (François
‘Poil de Carotte’ Lepic), Catherine Fonteney (Madame Lepic), Louis Gouthier
(godfather), Simone Aubry (Ernestine Lepic), Colette Segall (Mathilde), Maxime
Fromiot (Felix Lepic), Christiane Dor (Annette), (France 1932, 91 minutes) Available on DVD Region 1
It’s
the old stigma again, putting on the ginger-haired kid. Duvivier had
first told the story as a silent back in 1925. Then, old Henry Krauss had
played the father and it had been a fine film in its own right. Duvivier
wasn’t happy, though, and after the success of his early talkie Au
Bonheur des Dames, thoughts of doing Poil de Carotte again
quickly took him over. It was a rural tale, one of the most rural, and
that brought its own technical complications, but the country drama was back in
vogue, the French provinces were beginning to warm to the work of Marcel
Pagnol, and there had always been a love of children at play in the country in
France. There had been the Léonce Perret serials with Bout-de-Zan, and then
the heart-rending performances of Jean Forest for Jacques Feyder in the
1920s. And then look ahead, the tradition maintained through Jeux
Interdits to Le Grand Chemin.
Poil
de Carotte (carrot-top) is the youngest son of the Lepics. At school he’s
a loner, and his teachers are disturbed by his impressions of family life, of
families being people who loathe each other. His father has become a
milquetoast, a man under the thumb of a literally tyrannical, thoroughly nasty
wife who lets her elder children do what they want but who bullies and
harangues Poil de Carotte something rotten. His only friends are the new
servant who comes to work for them after Madame fires the old one for being too
old and past it, and a little girl who lives nearby, Mathilde.
It
may seem remarkable that Duvivier’s film is so neglected today, until one
realises exactly why. It’s that old obstacle of availability, not necessarily
of the film, but of the film’s condition, the length of the prints in
circulation and, for those unable to speak the vernacular, the terrible quality
of the English subtitles. Plus, Duvivier is out of fashion; the same fate
has befallen his other thirties films over time. And it was cut, censored
to be exact, of two crucial sequences for foreign distribution. Firstly
of the two kids holding mock rehearsals of marriage, and then of a sequence
where Poil de Carotte talks on the riverbank to his amiable godfather.
The problem was that he was naked, and child nudity in these most politically
correct, innocence-obliterating times is a strict no-no. Thankfully the
print I have not only restores the said sequences but is remastered quite beautifully,
capturing the beauty of Armand Thirard’s work that for decades had lain
tarnished like the inscriptions on an old coin.
What
most impresses, though, are the stunning performances at its centre.
Fonteney is suitably hateful as the mother, but it’s the father and son you
recall. Harry Baur is at his gargantuan best, his hurried alarm to
prevent his son from taking his fateful course of action and subsequent
reconciliation one of the most emotional sequences in French cinema. And
then there’s Robert Lynen; wiry, gangly, yet irrepressible, somehow managing to
have any spirit left behind his prominent freckles (so prominent as to make him
look like he has measles and make you wonder whether they were applied in
make-up). Gut-wrenching as he makes the decision to end it all, and
brightening up the darkest of souls when he realises he’s no longer carrot-top,
just François. Yet it’s impossible to see the film now without thinking
of the tragic fates of both father and son. Baur had Jean Valjean, Beethoven,
Volpone and Porfiry still to come but he was arrested by the Nazis after making
a film in Germany, tortured to gain information about his supposedly Jewish
wife, and died soon after in 1943, while Lynen, like so many young Frenchmen,
joined the Resistance, but was captured and executed by firing squad in 1944.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDelete