L'illusionniste (2010) - Sylvain Chomet

No, not some French reimagining of the Edward Norton film that finally proved beyond all doubt that he can't do tricky accents. Rather this is a gentle animated take on a previously unfilmed script by Jacques Tati. Chomet rewrote the script himself, changing the setting from Prague to Edinburgh. Like Tati's best films this could easily be classified as a silent film, what little dialogue there is, being of little consequence.

The Illusionist is a slight tale on paper. Tatischeff (Tati's real name) is the illusionist of the title, unable to find work in his native Paris he travels to London to look for it instead. Here he finds that the once popular variety circuit has been taken over by British Rock 'n' Rollers. So he's packed off to the highlands of Scotland to earn a crust instead. It's here in a small Scottish village that he meets Alice, a young local girl who quickly becomes enamoured with him, convinced that his illusions are in fact real magic. She stows away with him and they head to Edinburgh. Upon arriving it becomes obvious that what was once one of the most popular nights out is fast heading for the skids, as Tatischeff takes on a variety of non variety jobs to make ends meet. 

So typically Tati in as much as it's that old world clashing with new world theme that crops up again and again in his work. The hotel our couple stay in is populated with other debris from the world of music hall, there is a suicidal clown, a creepy ventriloquist and best of all a trio of acrobats. We don't get to see any of these people perform on stage, what we do see however is them doing their act in the real world instead. Throughout the film we witness the window of the local pawnbrokers (Brown and Blair, nudge nudge, wink wink), filling up with various props from these characters acts. The sad thing is that each time we return they haven't been sold and their price has been reduced still further, just like the performers themselves no one wants them. In terms of mood and themes it reminded me of a couple of other films, mainly De Sica's Umberto D. with the main character fast realising that he is a relic, and that the world has moved on without him. 

The relationship between Tatischeff and Alice is like that of a father and daughter, very innocent, very old fashioned. This is enforced with the closing shot of Tatischeff holding a photo of Tati's real life daughter, Sophie. It's this air of melancholy that hangs over the film, that makes me begin to understand why this was never made by Tati. For a Tati film it's just too sad, I can't see how he would have managed to bring his light touch to this story.

Chomet, who not only wrote and directed but wrote the music too, manages to really capture Scotland and the harsh beauty that is in abundance there. It comes as no surprise to hear that he'd relocated from his native France to Edinburgh prior to embarking upon this film. He also clearly has a love of the great man too, just the animation of Tati alone is good enough to trick you into forgetting that it isn't him up there on the screen. I'm so glad that someone with his track record (Les Triplettes de Belleville) was given this project. Imagine this being CGI style animation, or even worse live action, it just wouldn't work.

As it stands this is a worthy addition to the Tati canon. It feels old fashioned both in style and pacing, and is filled with loads of lovely little touches, such as having a station porter be played by Tati too, since Tati regularly took on multiple background roles in his films. Best of all though is Tatischeff walking into a cinema showing Mon Oncle, thus seeing himself on screen and his own role in the downfall of music hall. How very post modern.

Play Time (1967) - Jacques Tati

Tati's masterpiece. If you only ever get the chance to see one Tati film in your lifetime, then make it this one. If you get the chance to see two, then watch this twice. Play Time demands to be seen multiple times, not because of any labyrinthine plot or anything like that, but more because of the sheer volume of information up on the screen. Tati films the whole film using master shots, which he sometimes cuts into (although rarely), and avoids the use of close ups almost entirely. This means that the viewers eye is free to wander around the frame, sometimes a sound, or splash of colour will guide the audiences gaze towards a particular point. More often than not though your eyes are free to follow whatever you choose. On first viewing Play Time can appear cold or even empty, but the more time you spend with it the more it reveals it's delights. Quite often there are things happening in the background of scenes that are easily missed first or even second time round. Like the cardboard cut out figures peppered throughout the film, or characters that pop up again and again.

There's no real plot to Play Time, it all begins in an airport, we follow a group of American tourists as they weave their way out and into Paris. Not the old romantic city that usually springs to mind whenever Paris is mentioned, but rather the Paris of the then yet to be built La Défense, all glass and steel, impersonal and cold, straight lines dominating over curves. We also follow Monsieur Hulot (Tati) who crosses paths with everyone in the film, acting as a link to various set ups. First he has some kind of meeting, then he ends up at a trade fair, then a friends home and lastly at the Royal Garden restaurant. The whole film takes place over the course of one 24 hour period, and at the end we follow our coachload of tourists back to the airport.

Play Time follows on from Tati's previous film Mon Oncle both thematically (more of which later) and literally, beginning as it does where Mon Oncle ended, in an airport. Although like many things in Play Time all is not what it appears at first. Tati uses misdirection to fool the viewer into suspecting that this opening scene could in fact be taking place in a hospital. After all that's a nurse carrying a baby, isn't it? Except of course it isn't, the nurse turns out to be carrying paper towels, and with a change of camera angle the hospital becomes an airport. This happens throughout the film, initial perceptions are continually turned on their head. The trade fair section of the film features objects that look like one thing but are in fact something entirely different. Likewise the first appearance of Hulot is preceded by a series of Hulot doppelgangers. Even more so than Tati's previous films this should be considered a silent film, what little dialogue there is, is of little or no importance. With one exception, at the start of the film Hulot is told 'You don't belong here'. I think that is the key line in the whole film.

One of the things Tati does best is the running gag. Nowhere is that better displayed than in Play Time, each character is given some business or other to propel them through the film. So someone that we might see in the background of a scene at the start of the film, could have their story conclude in the restaurant scene towards the end of the film. It's almost like they are clockwork toys that Tati winds up, then releases with wonderful results. There is a theme of both reflections and glass running throughout the film, from the reflections of beautiful old Paris (Arc de Triomphe, La Tour Eiffel and Basilique du Sacré-Cœur) in various glass doors, to the endless jokes based around the opacity of glass, with numerous people walking into doors that were thought to be already open. One of my favourite moments is the scene where the shattered glass door of the Royal Garden restaurant is still opened and closed by the doorman, despite the fact that it doesn't exist. Glorious.

The real tour de force of Play Time is the Royal Garden restaurant sequence, which takes up almost half the running time of the film. A new trendy modern restaurant/discotheque has it's opening night and of course everything goes tits up. It's a film within a film really which builds steadily to it's chaotic end with the increasingly frantic music. It's also in this section of the film that Tati's main bugbear comes to the fore, that of the modern world increasingly forcing itself into people's lives, and the alienation of the people that this newness creates. It's something that has been there right from the start with Tati, and was developed in each successive film he wrote/directed. It's interesting to note that it is Hulot that pulls down the trellis in the restaurant, creating a restaurant within the restaurant, echoing the film within a film set up. It's Hulot that forces people to make their stamp on their environment. It's this human intervention that is a constant in Tati's work. How do people fit into architects plans, and should they?

Now most successful directors get the opportunity to realise their dream project at some point in their career. As is often the case the heart rules the budget, and things start to get out of control. Think of Scorsese with New York, New York, Coppola with Apocalypse Now or worse than either of those Cimino's Heaven's Gate which managed to sink United Artists. Play Time was to be Tati's downfall, both financially and artistically. Massive sets were built which were subsequently destroyed in a freak storm, of course it turned out Tati was uninsured, and from there on things only got worse. Filming stretched out over years instead of months, when the money ran out Tati took out loans, when that money dried up he begged his mother to invest Tati's inheritance so that he could finish the film. The film tanked at the box office in France, which made American distributors give it a miss (it would eventually receive a limited release in 1972). Tati lost everything including the rights to his own films, his home and his and his sisters inheritance. He made one more feature after this, the rather lackluster Trafic in 1971.

Time has been kind to Play Time however, and it is now rightly viewed as one of the greatest films ever made. Somewhere along the line half an hour of footage has gone missing, most likely it'll turn up long after I'm dead and buried. Until then I have this to watch over and over, each time seeing something new. If you haven't seen Play Time, you really should be asking yourself why not and when can that be rectified.

Jour de fête (1949) - Jacques Tati

Three cheers for Spegeln (English translation - the mirror), my local 'Arthouse' cinema for consistently showing films that I want to see at the cinema. Amongst other things this season they are showing all six of the films directed by Jacques Tati. So my first ever Tati film seen in a cinema is coincidentally the first feature Tati directed. It's not my favourite Tati film this, that's not to say it's a bad film, it's just that when it's older siblings are Mon Oncle and Play Time it doesn't really stand a chance if you know what I mean. Quite bizarrely this was shot simultaneously with colour and black and white film. Tati was nervous that the colour film wouldn't work, and was proved correct when Thomson (the company providing the colour film stock), went bankrupt before the film was processed. So the version shown on release was in black and white with certain elements hand tinted in colour by Tati himself. The version I saw at the cinema today was the restored colour version, which for so long was thought lost to the world. As I said three cheers for Spegeln.

Jour de fête opens with a small fairground arriving at a village in rural France. They set up in the village square and via an old woman and her goat, we are introduced to the various locals who will make us laugh for the next eighty minutes. Tati plays François the postman who after seeing a film about how efficient American postmen are, is cajoled by the villagers into trying to become more efficient. Now François delivers the post in what would be politely called a leisurely manner on his bicycle. The American postmen are shown to be the exact opposite, using every modern advancement available to them to get that letter into that letterbox. It's this storyline that is the most pleasing aspect of Jour de fête, since it's mainly Tati and a few props doing what Tati does best, making us laugh or at the very least smile. By the end of the film François has decided that the Americans and the outside world are welcome to their modernism, and he's quite happy to stick to what he knows. The final shot we see of him, is of François working in the fields, about as far away from the modern age as one can get. The film ends quite simply with the fairground packing up and leaving the village. All very circular, all very perfect.

This is the most talkie of Tati's films that I can think of. It's interesting to watch his films in order and see how he honed certain themes and ideas. The main theme that runs through Tati's work is that of the modern world and how it is encroaching on and affecting our lives. In this way he carried on from where the great Charlie Chaplin left off. Tati's films also contained less and less dialogue as his career proceeded, they are about as close to silent films as you'll find from this period. Which isn't all that surprising when you consider that Tati's background was as a mime.

One thing that Tati does far better than anyone else I can think of is the idea of a running joke. It's normally something shown quite early in the film which by the end has become so obvious, you have to wonder how you missed the build up. Repeat viewings of his films are essential for this factor alone. In Jour de fête there are numerous examples of this, from the buzzing bee on a strip of road to the wet paint that won't dry on the seats outside the local bar. As I say not the greatest Tati film, but still funny, sentimental and sweet. Comedy is always worth seeing at the cinema, the two people in the row in front of me laughed so much I almost felt bad for not finding it funnier. Almost. It came as a total shock when the lights went up and I saw just how old they were, mid seventies I'd guess. That's the other thing about Spegeln, it's one of the few places where I feel younger than most of the other clientele. It's almost worth going just for that.