Ein so hübscher kleiner Strand

A very dramatic story of a man who comes back to a place where he has spent his adolescence.The description of this little hotel, the beach and his guests is very good.Also the story of this strange guest is fascinating. The French critic Gerorges Sadoul wrote that "Une si jolie petite plage" is the best noir film of Yves Allégret. Gérard Philipe enjoyed very much his role in this film.The performances of Jean Servais and Madeleine Robinson are also very good.

The text we read at the beginning indicates the direction of the film; we are asked to sympathize with and not to condemn the orphans and abandoned children brought up in state-run facilities. We are told that these children often grew up to become the "elite" of society. The Gabin character in Carne's Le jour se leve also grew up on the "assistance publique," but he is a fighter for justice, unlike the passive, tormented Pierre. Yves Allegret has filmed Gerard Philipe as a sort of Christ-figure walking through the muddy streets of this third-rate resort town. There is a scene with Madeleine Robinson cuddling Philipe that is very much like the Pieta.

Jean Servais as the slimy Fred has some effective scenes; he reminds us of Jules Berry driving Gabin to murder in Le jour. If the script had focussed more on the conflict between Pierre, the killer of the club singer and Fred, the dead woman's old boyfriend, instead of devoting reams of script pages to the social and political aspects of homeless children (no matter how moving their plight may be) the noir tradition would have been much better served.

I'll finish by praising the actors: Servais is great, Jane Marken as the proprietress of the hotel is a model of petit-bourgeois intolerance, Carette's salesman is boring and right. Only Gerard Philipe fails to give a rounded performance because the script won't let him.

It seems be the lead character of this bitter film. A film about past. Remembering the play by Albert Camus. All seems a blank confession. A man. A place. The tension. And an ally . And the rain . Far by every escape.

Desolate, melancholy feelings pervade this film, set in a small beach town in the off-season, with rain pouring down incessantly. A man arrives in the middle of the night appearing to want a respite to calm his nerves, but gradually we discover there's more to him than that. There may be no better image for trying to process childhood trauma than walking off into the distance on a deserted beach in the rain, and I loved the artistry with which Yves Allégret told this story. There is a theme of being preyed upon sexually, obviously with the war orphans, but also in the servant in the inn when she describes her time as a miner in Belgium. Meanwhile, the bourgeoise skate by without a care in the world, captured brilliantly in that final shot on the beach which pulls back from them rapidly. If you're wondering how they got that without the camera truck leaving tracks in the sand, look carefully at the small waves in the distance, going out instead of in.

In the summer it's a handsome if undistinguished summer resort. It's winter now, and it rains all the time. Only one hotel is open, and it caters to consumptives. Gérard Philipe shows up and rents a room. He says he is a student. As the movie proceeds it becomes clear that he has been here before; he was the boy who did all the unwelcome chores and was beaten by the owner. The woman he ran away with, a famous singer, has been murdered. It's like HOTEL DU NORD, run by a sour Jane Marken.

What comes after poetic realism fails? What movie can you make when there is no G*d, no fate driving lives, because he is an old man, dying of tuberculosis? What happens, as one character remarks, there is no love, so you should take advantage of it? You get film noir, of course, but film noir is about crime and evil. How do you make a movie about love when there is no such thing, when Madeleine Robinson wants to help, when Philipe wants to help, but no one can help? This despairing movie examines that question, and it does so very well in its own, bleak way.