Hôtel du Nord

Hotel Du Nord is a gripping drama of guilt in which Marcel Carne portrayed an entertaining tale of ill-fated love which also functions as a revolt against the cruel world.The film is based entirely on a pair of hapless lovers.Pierre and Renee were mistaken when they believed that suicide would put an end to their misery.Hotel Du Nord has its own inimitable charm as its inhabitants have become an essential part of the establishment.There is an element of togetherness as everyone flocks to Hotel Du Nord to eat,chat etc.Marcel Carne has remained true to the spirit of the films produced in 30s and 40s as Hotel Du Nord has a certain kind of nostalgic feel.Carne,while recreating the life of Parisian roads was able to create a sort of nostalgia for black and white giving a unique genre of poetic realism to his oeuvre.Hotel Du Nord can be termed as a quintessence of cinematographic populism.The 14th July ball scene on the banks of Saint Martin canal remains a magnificent sequence.The film's immense popularity can be judged from the fact that Hotel Du Nord has been declared as a national monument.

"Hôtel du Nord" is a romantic-comic drama cloaked in poetic realism, beneath which lies a delicately woven tale of love, disappointment, and solidarity, wrapped in a veil of melancholy.

The story leads us to a modest hotel along the Canal Saint-Martin, where residents have gathered to celebrate a child's first communion. Among them is Raymonde, a prostitute, whose pimp Edmond stays in their room to develop photographs he had taken earlier. At that moment, a young couple, Renée and Pierre, arrive and rent a room for the night. They don't join the others - instead, they are planning a double suicide, unable to afford marriage or a home of their own. Soon after, Renée picks up a pistol... and a shot is heard.

Director Marcel Carné blends melodrama, humor, romance, and crime within the intimate setting of the hotel. The plot unfolds in a microcosm of marginalized lives: artisans, courtesans, petty criminals, and eternal idealists. Carefully composed shots and fluid camera movements create a sense that the viewer, too, is a guest at the hotel.

For the film, both the canal and hotel were recreated in a studio, adding to the dreamlike atmosphere. Rain, fog, and shimmering reflections in the water serve as enchanting visual motifs. The dialogue is tinged with irony and filled with layered, double-edged lines that echo the poetry of street life.

Thematically, the film aligns with the poetic realism of its time - the protagonists grapple with love, trust, solidarity, and loneliness. Carné often aims hopeful, sunlit arrows at his characters, but they dissolve into the grayness of reality before reaching their targets.

Annabella plays Renée - a gentle, emotional, yet dignified young woman, caught in the web of circumstances and rash decisions. She continues to fight and to hope. Her character balances delicately between shame, gratitude, and longing for love and a home. She is not passive, but the warmth she brings remains subtle, even elusive.

Jean-Pierre Aumont's Pierre is a youthful idealist, lost from the very beginning. His character sways between despair and youthful fervor that borders on madness. Pierre embodies the idea of immature or impossible love - and perhaps that's why his shadow lingers even after he disappears from the story.

Louis Jouvet's Edmond stands as the film's most dominant presence. A man with a turbulent past, he's seen too much and now longs for peace, weighed down by melancholic fatigue. A seasoned realist, Edmond still makes room for tenderness and love - until the narrative leads him back to the antihero's path so typical of poetic realism.

Arletty shines as Raymonde - the quintessential Parisian courtesan: bold, witty, brutally honest, yet warm and smiling. Beneath her sarcastic humor lies a profound emotional core. She's a woman of the margins, determined not to be overlooked or forgotten.

The supporting cast provides strong backing to the leads and enriches the hotel's small world.

In the end, Hôtel du Nord is a bittersweet story of everyday life - a portrait of ordinary people balancing on the edge of class and survival, without grand dreams but with immense hearts. Devoid of dramatic twists or lofty philosophies, it quietly reflects the fight for dignity in a world that seldom offers much. It's a stop worth visiting for anyone traveling the railways of world cinema - especially those who like to linger on the platform of poetic realism.

A true classic. Beautifully filmed and acted. Reveals an area of Paris which is alive and filled with comedy and tragedy. Although the area of 'Hotel du Nord' and the Hotel itself still exists, it is not as gay (in the original sense of the word) and joyful as it once must have been. The film makes one yearn for the past, which has been lost, with a sigh and bittersweetness.

I suppose I always felt that Hotel Du Nord was studio-bound, the movement of people cars and camera were just too effortlessly smooth and stagey to have been filmed on location. But no problem - it's still a much underrated lovely composition from Marcel Carne. The plot seems a bit choppy at times, as if they were making it up as they went along, but because it is unpredictable holds the attention to the bitter end. The comings and goings and goings-on at hotels are always full of rich possibilities anyway. The money shots when the two lovers are alone in their room are saddled with some rather stilted dialogue, but it's all so lovely to fall into any inanity can be accepted. Are these two young people symbols of a cancerous hopelessness in pre-War France or simply idiots? Suicide pacts are fairly common; if the suicidees are young and healthy with their lives before them untrammelled would you think anything other than that they were just misguided fools?

Arletty played the part of prostitute well - she kept that zipper on her dress busy throughout anyway! I've only seen a few films with Jouvet - he is the most impressive invention as pimp in HDN - my trouble is shallow: every time I see his face I think of Sonnie Hale in Evergreen!

A remarkably atmospheric, well acted and photographed film with so much happening it needs a few viewings to get it all in place. Annabella and Aumont made an exceptionally beautiful couple; Francois (Heurtebise) Perier in his 2nd film had a small amusing part as a gay man. All in all, a wonderful film. Next: Le Jour Se Leve.

Fragile Carne, just before his great period. Although it is sometimes hesitantly directed, and marred by longueurs, HOTEL DU NORD is full of the faded charm and beauty typical of French films of the late 1930s, as well as a relative lightness of touch unusual with this director. All of his great virtues are here: the cramped interiors broken up by gliding, complex, delicious camera movements; a melancholy deployment of light and shade; remarkable, wistful sets by Alexander Trauner, which are so evocative that they, as the title suggests, take on a shaping personality of their own; the quietly mournful music of Maurice Jaubert; a seemingly casual plot about romance, tragedy and fatalism that casts a noose over its characters; extraordinary performances by some of the greatest players of all time, in this case Louis Jouvet and Arletty.

In fact, the film's biggest failing, and I find myself astonished (as someone who usually, didactically, minimises its importance) to admit it, is its script. It has plenty of wit and poignancy, but without the poetry and irony regular Carne collaborator Jacques Prevert brought to their best films, it cannot avoid slipping into cliche (even if it is only cliche in hindsight).

Ostensibly set in the boarding house, the film sets up its opening idea of community with two interconnecting tales of doomed love, and emotional, metaphysical and actual isolation The doomed love scenario is the one that works least well. Annabella is very beautiful, but not very good at doing tragic, while Aumont's callowness, brilliantly appropriate though it may be, by its nature obtrudes any real, felt, romance. Maybe it's just me, but I find it hard to sympathise with a couple, so young, so attractive, who, after only a few months, are so racked with despair that they have to shoot each other. Their high-flown lines are rather embarrassing too. Of course, this affair is not meant to be plausible - they are symbolic of youth, hope and possibility being crushed in France, or maybe France itself, despairing, resigned, waiting for death. For symbols to be truly powerful, they must convince on a narrative level, which, I feel, they don't quite here.

What saves this plot is its connection with the story of M. Edmond, a character linked to the great tradition of French gangsters. Although we only learn it gradually, he is a killer in hiding, living off the prostitute played by Arletty, having dobbed in his accomplices. In his previous 'role' - and the theatricality of his position is crucial - he had one set of traits; in hiding he has assumed their complete opposite. Living a rather aimless life, he is profoundly shaken by the lovers' pact, and becomes fatalistic, realising the folly of trying to cheat death.

In this way - the admission that one is less a person than a collection of signs, and that death is an unavoidable reality the most powerful masculinity must succumb to - Edmond is like a romantic prototype of Melville's clinical killers. With one exception - he gives briefly into hope, a delusion which only strenghtens - if that's not too much of an unbearable irony - his fatal resolve.

All this could have been trite if it wasn't for the truly amazing performance of Louis Jouvet. I had studied his theatrical work at college, but this was my first taste of his screen talents, and he reveals himself to be worthy of the greats - Grant, Mastroianni, Clift, Mason, Mitchum, Cotten - giving a quiet nobility to a role which is more of a conception (he, needless to say, is allegorical too) than an actual person. Edmond begins the film a minor supporting character, but emerges as a tragic hero of some force. Like all those major actors, Jouvet's brilliance lies in what he conceals.

On a formal level, what amazes is Carne's grasping, ten years before its flourishing, of the techniques of the great Hollywood melodramas of Sirk, Ophuls, Ray and Minnelli. Although his theatricality lacks the fluidity and clear-eyed beauty of Sierck's contemporary German melodramas (check out the masterpieces ZU NEUEN UFERN and LA HABENERA), Carne's style truly fits his theme - that of entrapment, paralysis, resignation.

The film's principle motif is that of water - the credits float and dissolve, the hotel stands by a waterway - but instead of Renoir's open river of possibility, we have a canal, stagnant and manmade, going nowhere. The film begins as it ends, and the setting never changes, except for one brief interlude from which both escapees are doomed to return. Characters can only escape through death - their entrapment is emphasised by the narrow rooms they occupy, the walls and frames that hold them captive, the windows that look out on an escape they can never achieve. Any hope at the end, therefore, is profoundly, if romantically, compromised.