The Complete Jean Vigo

'L'Atalante'

Some movies are entertaining, funny, romantic, insightful, exciting, tragic, mysterious, surprising, thought provoking, or any number of other various pleasing adjectives. Some movies are good, really good even -- and then some movies, some special, truly rare movies, are simply… magic. What makes a movie magic, you might ask? Well, to be honest it's sort of hard to quantify. When a film doesn't work it can be easy to describe its shortcomings, and when a film succeeds it can be equally simple to praise its glories, but for the few quintessentially special works of art, the few really magical pieces of cinema, it can actually be difficult to put their beauty into words. After all, how can one describe the intangible and the unknowable? How can one describe the indescribable? There's just something locked away in their images, hidden in plain sight but somehow forever elusive. Something raw and primal, but eloquent. Something rapturous and divine. Something inherently without form, yet so perfectly expressed through sight, sound, and motion. Jean Vigo's 1934 masterpiece, 'L'Atalante,' is such a film, and while its uncomplicated beauty might defy words, I shall try my best.

The story follows two newlyweds, Jean (Jean Daste), and Juliette (Dita Parlo), as they grow accustomed to married life together on Jean's barge, moving from port to port. While the couple deals with normal domestic squabbles and pleasures alike, Juliette develops a sweet friendship with one of the ship's crew, a gruff, eccentric sailor named Le père Jules (Michel Simon). With Jean growing jealous and Juliette growing bored by her cabin bound existence, their relationship reaches an eventual boiling point during an offshore excursion into town. Their quarrel results in a rather rash and dramatic decision that might signal the end for the couple's mutual affections. Wonderfully understated and deceptively simple, the plot is a marvelous examination of young love that is elevated to the pinnacle of high art through sparkling performances and stunning images.

The cast is nothing short of spectacular. Jean Daste balances a caring sensitive side with a false pretense of jealous bravado. His envious fits lead to poor decisions, but the character eventually reveals his true colors, and as depression and regret hit in a bittersweet epiphany, Daste becomes a devastated shell of a man, engendering pangs of sympathy for the skipper. As Juliette, Dita Parlo is a revelation, forging a performance full of tenderness and life. Her smile literally lights up the screen, becoming a transcendent image unto itself, wrapped in indescribable mystery and allure. There's something in her expression, in the very curve of her lips and the light in her eyes that sparks the soul and tugs at the heart. While the duo is central to the success of the film, 'L'Atalante' would simply not be the masterpiece that it is, without Michel Simon. Le père Jules is a singular cinematic creation, a blend of truth and caricature that somehow becomes something larger than life and intimately real simultaneously. Rough on the outside, his exterior masks a gentle, sensitive soul. Simon's performance is full of exaggerated broad strokes and more subtle nuances, forming a multifaceted character that brings infectious humor and spirit to the proceedings.

Vigo's cinematic style is a sumptuous mishmash of function and poetry. Compositions, movements, and cuts all serve the characters and plot, on the surface thrusting us through the breezy narrative with little fanfare. The director lets his actors act, resisting the urge to overly stylize his scenes, creating a realistic atmosphere that fosters refreshingly naturalistic performances full of irresistible charm. Look just a bit deeper, however, and the outwardly straightforward images reveal a whole other level of inexpressible artistic power. A bride dressed in white slowly flowing across a darkened barge. An intimate dalliance among wondrous oddities and peculiar trinkets. A vision of true love formed in the ocean's depths. These are all examples of some of the many memorable images and scenes that run through the film. Their sights, married to Maurice Jaubert's brilliant score, elicit emotions and thoughts with ease and ambiguity. While one could analyze Vigo's mise-en-scene for hours, the reality is that there is no real intellectual reason why his visuals leave such an impression. Pioneering a style of everyday lyricism, there is a stripped down, practical expressionism that permeates Vigo's work, drenching his images in a kind of routine awe.

This is a film of sublime contradictions. Its plot is almost excessively simple, yet somehow through Vigo's eyes becomes infinitely deep and profound. Its observations can be fleetingly cynical, but ultimately prove to be unapologetically romantic. Its characters are innocuously innocent, yet palpably sensual. Its images are candidly realistic, but effortlessly poetic. Made from a script that seemingly clashes with all of the director's inherent inclinations and sensibilities, it simply should not work, and yet… somehow does. Vigo infuses every ounce, every inch of himself, into every shot, and that peerless level of dedication, care, and unbridled passion shines through in every frame. While all this praise might sound like hyperbole, and for some certainly might be, for me, this is film at its most pure and extraordinary. 'L'Atalante' is a joyous celebration of life and cinema. It is an achingly beautiful achievement. While I've tried my best, in the end, there just aren't words to express what its images so simply convey. After all, how could there be? It's about love.

'A propos de Nice'

Shot in 1930, 'A propos de Nice' is Vigo's first foray into filmmaking. An experimental documentary, this twenty three minute short is an exciting and visually arresting rumination on a place and people. Featuring various twisting shots of the French city, Vigo creates an all encompassing visual tour of its landmarks, structures, and society during leisure and work. Through juxtaposing frames and skewed angles, the director infuses his own subjective viewpoint into the proceedings, weaving a loose commentary on the sights and sounds he presents. Little bits of humor and almost surrealistic touches are also thrown in, hinting at the filmmaker's tendencies toward the absurd, whimsical, and borderline obscene.

Filled with many striking images, perhaps the most notable sequence features a slow motion shot of women dancing at a carnival. Filmed from below, the vantage point gives us an amusingly playful view up their skirts as the group moves cheerfully in celebration. While mostly light, there are fleeting instances of more weighty substance, drawing some strong parallels between upper and lower class society. Though not as significant as his longer works, 'A propos de Nice' is still a worthy piece of the director's unfortunately small filmography that demonstrates a lot of the stylistic sensibilities that Vigo would go on to flesh out further.

'Taris'

A short, commissioned piece, 'Taris' is a nine minute portrait of famous French swimmer, Jean Taris. Essentially an instructional film of sorts, Vigo shoots Taris from a variety of angles demonstrating different strokes and techniques while voice over explains the methods. Though primarily a purely work-for-hire effort, Vigo still infuses the piece with some interesting stylistic flourishes, taking advantage of the opportunity to experiment with angles and film speeds. Dramatic, slow motion close-up shots of Taris performing his many strokes create a kind of artistic distillation of the movements themselves, forging something cinematically potent and worthwhile. Underwater shots of the swimmer happily enjoying his sport are also noteworthy and directly foreshadow one of the most famous scenes from 'L'Atalante.' While very brief and lacking the same kind of substance found in the other included films, Vigo's strength as a filmmaker still shines through, even in a piece that could otherwise come off like pure fluff.

'Zero de Conduite'

A forty four minute narrative short, 'Zero de Conduite' is in many ways Vigo's most personal film and seems to best represent the auteur's unfiltered sensibilities as a filmmaker. Loosely based on personal experiences, the movie follows a group of boys at a strict boarding school as they plot to rebel against their repressive teachers. Originally banned by censors in 1933, the film is a whimsical, satirical romp that's anarchistic subject matter and homosexual implications proved too much for French moviegoers at the time.

Fairly episodic in structure, the plot features various interactions among the boys and their teachers as the young troublemakers slowly plan to stage a coup against them. A wonderful mixture of realism and absurdity, the film balances strong emotions with a sometimes fanciful tone and style. Some scenarios throughout start to play out like a kind of live action cartoon, and Vigo again demonstrates a gift for finding magic in the mundane. Though I must admit it took me a while to warm up to the film, it gradually won me over completely and is a strong example of the director's trademark voice. Its influence is clearly evident, especially in French New Wave works like 'The 400 Blows.'

One sequence near the end of the movie actually rivals anything out of 'L'Atalante' in sheer intangible delight. As the boys overthrow their stern teacher, launching an assault in the dead of night in their bedroom, Vigo presents a slow motion shot so exquisite in form that it borders on cinematic perfection. Celebrating their victory, the boys march out of the bedroom, hoisting up their champion in a chair as feathers from their pillows billow all around. Unrestrained glee and triumph beams from their collective faces, presenting a visual ode to youth and carefree abandon that radiates from the screen. 'L'Atalante' may be Vigo's shining achievement, but 'Zero de Conduite' is a wonderful, strong piece of cinema in its own right.

The Blu-ray: Vital Disc Stats

Criterion presents 'The Complete Jean Vigo' in their standard clear case with spine number 578. The single BD-50 region A disc comes packaged with a booklet featuring essays by Michael Almereyda, Robert Polito, B. Kite, and Luc Sante.