Una salida al campo

Just how unfinished "Partie De Campagne" truly is remains something of a contentious issue. There are countless differing theories and opinions, some of which seem to have been instigated by the director himself. There are those, this reviewer included, who believe Renoir originally intended this film as one-half of a double feature of Guy De Maupassant adaptations. Whatever might have once been planned, however, does nothing to soften the radiant beauty and brilliance of the film.

Renoir had collected around himself a group of friends and family in the hope of creating what he later described as a "holiday" atmosphere during the scheduled week of filming. In accordance with the story on which it is based, long summer days and balmy afternoons by the river banks were called for in Renoir's script. Unfortunately, the cast and crew were faced with a damp, dismal July which continued long into August. Cramped up in the lobby of the hotel, sheltering from the storms outside, personal tensions and rivalries soon inevitably surfaced. With the months continuing to pass and little to show the financial backers in the rushes, money became scarce. Eventually, after refusing Sylvia Bataille's request for leave so she might audition for a future project in Paris, the director himself nonchalantly announced he would be abandoning the film to concentrate his efforts on his next film, Les Bas-fonds.

Considering all of the above, it is miraculous that the film we see today is such a luminous, sensual masterpiece.

Much is made of Renoir's use of deep focus techniques in films such as Le Regle de Jeu and La Grande Illusion, quite rightly so, but it is also used to great effect in this film. The film's early scenes largely take place inside a rural inn. Renoir keeps the camera mostly in one place, stationary. Then, suddenly, a window is opened; light floods in, we see trees, a breeze blowing lightly through grass, a young woman and her mother arcing high into the summer air on swings. Now we cut to a close-up of the girl, with the camera fixed to the swing, an accomplice to her every movement. She is laughing, ecstatic, exhilarated by her surroundings. It is an exhilarating moment in cinema, the sudden infusion of life and nature into the film echoes in the viewer's mind throughout the short running time.

Renoir is a great film-maker, perhaps the greatest of all, and this is a great film, perhaps his greatest of all.

Although "A Day In The Country" is a lovely, lyrical film I was disappointed to learn that it was never completed. Indeed, there is a gaping hole toward the end of the film which, if finished, could have answered some plot questions. And so, we must draw our own conclusions and try to fill in blanks. As you would expect, it mars the final product.

As is, it is a snippet of life fleshed out by the master director Renoir. Human feeling seems to be his strong point, humanity in all its strengths, shortcomings and foibles as illustrated by his depiction of a family picnic in the country. We are eavesdropping on them, almost. I wish he could have finished it.

Partie de campagne (Jean Renoir, 1936) is one of the great unfinished films. Usually such projects exist in tantalising snippets because a director snuffed it before realising his vision, or failed to get a movie off the ground due to short-sighted financiers. In this case, Renoir quit because it kept raining. Admittedly it rained for much of a six-week shoot, but even so... Happily, the 40-minute Partie de campagne doesn't seem unfinished, with an intriguingly-paced three-act structure that works just fine and a heady summer atmosphere that stands as perhaps the most inspired example of its director's quiet lyricism. It's an often breathtaking pastoral film, creating a fully-realised rural world a la Tol'able David and Louisiana Story into which to throw our protagonists.

Sylvia Bataille is Henriette, a Parisian girl who decamps to the countryside for the weekend with her parents, her grandmother and her fiancé. There, she and her mother (Jane Marken) encounter a prospective-family-man-cum-intense-romantic and his caddish mate, who sweep them off their feet and onto a pair of rowing boats. But this is 19th century France, and the ties that bind won't slacken just because someone's fallen in love.

The film is gentle, entertaining and sometimes very funny, benefiting from superb performances by Bataille, Marken and young romeos Georges D'Arnoux and Jacques B. Brunius, a luscious musical score composed for its 1946 release and Renoir's effortless, transcendent handling of the material. Its coda is absolutely heartbreaking: the perfect wrap-up for a film that's shot through with unshakeable conviction and a tangible love of the countryside. Renoir's fondness for Bataille's expressive, elfin face is just as obvious - he would return to it later the same year in his fascinating serio-comic polemic Le crime de Monsieur Lange. A set piece here that sees her guilelessly embrace the pleasures of a swing is slight but somehow unforgettable. Elsewhere, Renoir's script matches the exalted treatment, encompassing as it does themes of nostalgia, teary joy and the essence of being.

But Partie de campagne does have one - perhaps major - flaw, so bizarre as to be unintelligible. That's the presentation of the father and the fiancé, Anatole, as music hall imbeciles. The younger is particularly ridiculous, resembling a young Stan Laurel as he repeatedly squawks and wobbles his bottom lip. For that matter, the dad looks not unlike Oliver Hardy. Really odd. Perhaps Renoir, adapting Guy de Maupassant's novel, is making a satiric point about the unredeemable unsuitability of the young couple, or the ineptitude of Parisians cast adrift several miles from the big city, but it's a directorial decision that's never really justified.

Still, that's the only gripe about this amazing piece of work, which largely hums with brilliance and ultimately stands shoulder-to-shoulder with La grande illusion as the director's greatest achievement.

Trivia note: That's Renoir himself as the restaurateur, Poulain.

Unfinished,this is a one of Renoir's most remarkable works.As far as Guy DE Maupassant is concerned,only Max OPhuls's "le plaisir"(1951) and Christian-Jaque's "Boule de Suif" (1950)equal it.

This is apparently a very simple story:a couple of bourgeois (Jane Marken and Gabriello) ,their daughter (Sylvia Bataille) and her less-than-handsome husband leave for a day in the country (title).There the young girl meets love ,short-lived happiness.

Beneath the placid surface,tragedy emerges.The beautiful landscape,the simmering water,the whispering grass,the swings which seem to reach for a pure sky,the small fish you savor in the guinguettes down by the river,the thrill of it all!The young girl's longing for true love is harder to endure in such a peaceful paradise.This is one of these rare movies in which you experiment happiness tinged with an infinite sadness.

A whole sequence is missing:a card explains the events which were not filmed.Sylvia Bataille's last line(to the man she fell in love with) will make you cry out:"I've been thinking of it every day".Woman has always been sacrificed in Maupassant's work.At a running time of 40 minutes,a lot of people claim it for Renoir's best though.I do.Claude Renoir marvelously conveys Maupassant's depictions with his pictures.

The family of a Parisian shop-owner (André Gabriello) spends a day in the country. The daughter (Sylvia Bataille) falls in love with a man (Georges D'Arnoux) at the inn, where they spend the day.

This simple film, less than 45 minutes long, is now available thanks to Criterion. Who can say no to Jean Renoir in the 1930s? So many of us are preoccupied with American comedies of the era, we forget that other countries exist. And this one at a time that France was just about to be invaded by Germany!

Although her career spanned over 20 years, this would turn out to be Sylvia Bataille's most memorable role. Renoir never finished filming due to weather problems, but producer Pierre Braunberger turned the material into a release in 1946, ten years after it was shot. Braunberger was right to release the film.