A blog formerly known as Bookishness / By Charles Matthews

"Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo ... became indignant over the living images that the prosperous merchant Bruno Crespi projected in the theater with the lion-head ticket windows, for a character who had died and was buried in one film and for whose misfortune tears had been shed would reappear alive and transformed into an Arab in the next one. The audience, who had paid two cents apiece to share the difficulties of the actors, would not tolerate that outlandish fraud and they broke up the seats. The mayor, at the urging of Bruno Crespi, explained in a proclamation that the cinema was a machine of illusions that did not merit the emotional outbursts of the audience. With that discouraging explanation many ... decided not to return to the movies, considering that they already had too many troubles of their own to weep over the acted-out misfortunes of imaginary beings."
--Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

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Showing posts with label Jacqueline Delubac. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jacqueline Delubac. Show all posts

Saturday, March 21, 2020

Quadrille (Sacha Guitry, 1938)

Georges Grey and Gaby Morlay in Quadrille
Cast: Sacha Guitry, Gaby Morlay, Jacqueline Delubac, Georges Grey, Pauline Carton, Jacques Vitry. Screenplay: Sacha Guitry. Cinematography: Robert Lefebvre. Production design: Jean Perrier. Film editing: Myriam Borsoutsky. Music: Adolphe Borchard.

One of Sacha Guitry's strengths as a filmmaker was that he was a prolific playwright who knew how to craft dialogue and plot. One of Sacha Guitry's weaknesses is that he was a prolific playwright who never quite mastered the difference between a play and a film -- namely, that the actors in a film have to perform without benefit of an audience, and the dialogue they're speaking shouldn't ramble on, as it tends to do without the interruptions of laughter or other unscripted responses of a live audience. The masters of film comedy -- I'm thinking here of directors like Howard Hawks and George Cukor -- knew that a continued stream of bons mots or wisecracks needed the right pacing to keep a movie theater audience from covering up the best moments. But Guitry's characters in Quadrille talk non-stop, none more so than the director-writer-star himself, never giving us a break to savor what has been so wittily said or so poignantly evoked. Quadrille is a pleasant French romantic comedy about a publisher with a mistress who's a star on the stage. She cuckolds him with a handsome American movie star, just as the publisher is about to propose marriage to her. When she learns that she has just blown the possibility of marrying him, and it looks like the movie star has decamped, she attempts suicide. But things are set right by the fourth player in this quadrille, a pretty reporter who manages to sort things out, rescuing the actress in the nick of time, sending her off with the movie star, and taking the publisher for herself. Guitry plays the publisher, with Gaby Morlay as the actress, Jacqueline Delubard as the reporter, and Georges Grey -- who had made his film debut in a small role in Guitry's The Pearls of the Crown (1937) -- as the movie star. There's a certain French insouciance about playing the actress's suicide attempt for comedy -- it doesn't work in the more American context of Billy Wilder's Sabrina (1954), for example.

Thursday, March 19, 2020

Désiré (Sacha Guitry, 1937)

Alys Delonce, Jacques Baumer, Sacha Guitry, Arletty, and Jacqueline Delubac in Désiré
Cast: Sacha Guitry, Jacqueline Delubac, Jacques Baumer, Arletty, Pauline Carton, Saturnin Fabre, Alys Delonce. Screenplay: Sacha Guitry. Cinematography: Jean Bachelet. Production design: Jean Perrier. Film editing: Myriam Borsoutsky. Music: Adolphe Borchard.

Sacha Guitry's Désiré -- not to be confused with Frank Borzage's Desire (1936) or Henry Koster's Désirée (1954) -- is an upstairs-downstairs comedy about a valet and the woman he serves. It's stagy and talky -- especially when Guitry himself is onscreen, as in the scene near the start of the movie when he delivers a lengthy plea to Mme. Cléry to hire him despite a rather sensational report from his former employer, and in the scene near the end when he apologizes at length for his behavior, which he sees as inherent in the relationship between master and servant, as well as between men and women. Odette Cléry, played by Guitry's wife and frequent co-star Jacqueline Delubac, is a former actress who is the mistress of a French cabinet minister, Felix Montignac. She'd like to marry Montignac, but he's reluctant because he feels it's good for his image as a prominent government official to have a mistress. That comedy of manners premise sets up what follows when she hires a new valet, named Désiré and played by Guitry. He's clued in to the nature of the household by his fellow servants, Madeleine the maid, played by Arletty, and Adèle the cook, played by Pauline Carton. Complications ensue when Madeleine overhears Désiré, through the thin wall separating their bedrooms, talking in his sleep about his passion for Mme. Cléry, while Montignac hears Odette talking in her sleep about making love with Désiré. There's some farcical goings-on involving a book of dream interpretations, and the whole thing comes to a crisis at a dinner party for Adrien Corniche (Saturnin Fabre) and his very deaf wife, Henriette (Alys Delonce). There's some very funny, albeit cruel, comic business involving Henriette's deafness, but the whole film may be just a little too arch and loquacious for its own good. It's also a little hard to imagine Guitry as the kind of man who inspires forbidden passion in his female employers, as Désiré is said to do.

Monday, March 16, 2020

The Pearls of the Crown (Sacha Guitry, 1937)

Arletty and Claude Dauphin in The Pearls of the Crown
Cast: Sacha Guitry, Jacqueline Delubac, Lyn Harding, Renée Saint-Cyr, Enrico Glori, Ermete Zacconi, Barbara Shaw, Marguerite Moreno, Arletty, Marcel Dalio, Claude Dauphin, Raimu, Jean-Louis Barrault. Screenplay: Sacha Guitry, Christian-Jaque. Cinematography: Jules Kruger. Art direction: Jean Perrier. Film editing: William Barache, Myriam Borsoutsky. Music: Jean Françaix.

Sacha Guitry's The Pearls of the Crown is a romp through French and English history that tells the story of how four pearls came to be placed on the royal crown of Great Britain -- and what happened to three other similar pearls that didn't make it. It purports (with tongue in cheek) to be a true story, and it gives Guitry a chance to play four distinct roles, including Francis I and Napoleon III. It also features cameos by some celebrated French actors, including Arletty in blackface as the queen of Abyssinia, Claude Dauphin as her pearl-hunting lover, Jean-Louis Barrault as the young Napoleon I, and Raimu as the owner of one of the three missing pearls. Guitry's wife and frequent co-star, Jacqueline Delubac, plays a key role as the wife of the chief pearl-hunter, Jean Martin (Guitry), as well as bits as Mary Stuart and Josephine de Beauharnais. It's made in three languages -- four if you count the gibberish spoken by the queen of Abyssinia and her courtiers -- but mostly in French. Engaging enough, though you may want to bone up on French and English history to get the full value.

Friday, March 13, 2020

The Story of a Cheat (Sacha Guitry, 1936)

Marguerite Moreno and Sacha Guitry in The Story of a Cheat
Cast: Sacha Guitry, Marguerite Moreno, Jacqueline Delubac, Rosine Deréan, Roger Duchesne, Elmire Vautier, Serge Grave, Fréhel, Pierre Assy, Henri Peiffert. Screenplay: Sacha Guitry. Cinematography: Marcel Lucien. Art direction: Henri Ménessier. Film editing: Myriam Borsoutsky. Music: Adolphe Borchard.

The word that occurs to me for Sacha Guitry's The Story of a Cheat is "droll." It reminds me of a Gallic version of those postwar Alec Guinness comedies, like Kind Hearts and Coronets (Robert Hamer, 1949) and The Lavender Hill Mob (Charles Crichton, 1951), in which people do criminal and even cruel things but the film remains lighthearted. It begins, after all, with the death of 11 people, all members of the protagonist's family, when he is 12 years old. Eventually, he is seduced into a life of thievery by three women. In the film, he is in his 50s, writing his memoirs at a table in a café, narrating the film in voiceover -- there is little actual dialogue. For those of us who aren't fluent in French and rely on subtitles, it's almost like a silent movie with a constant flow of title cards. Guitry -- writer, director, and star -- is a charmer whose work was profoundly influential on French film, and I hope to see more of his work in the coming weeks.