Las vacaciones del Sr. Hulot

If you do not have the time or money to travel back to 1953 to spend a French holiday, you might as well just watch M. Hulot's Holiday. Honestly holidays are stressful and barely ever as good as you want them to be anyway, while this movie was much more than I expected it to be.

The humor in the film is warm, never condescending or patronizing to the characters. There is always the sense of fun. The movie really sells itself to me by not making Mr. Hulot a buffoon alone in the crowd. Circumstance and happening reveals everyone to be capable of situational humor, the accidents of the movie are shared with a laugh.

It is an observational movie, and the majority of the humor is not forced, neither upon us nor upon the movie itself. It merely shows how people can get involved in each others' lives, how funny the average day can be. It is like attending a family reunion, really. The camera does not stick itself to Mr. Hulot, but goes anywhere for a laugh. If a small boy is doing something funny, the camera will be there to capture it all, and then leave the boy. This would make another film feel large, but because there is no story to the film, because there is no main character to feel especially attached to, it always feels personal, it always feel like you are seeing something nobody else is.

Perhaps the best part is that the film sticks with you for days afterward, and soon Mr. Hulot's Holiday shows its real genius, as you start noticing similar things happening around you.

A French classic every bit as funny as "Monty Python and the Holy Grail."

Except for missing the wonderfully amusing sound effects, this nearly silent film could be viewed with the sound on mute. Its plethora of homages to the great films of the silent era, meticulously executed slapstick and sight gags make me grin, smile broadly and laugh out loud every time I watch this Gallic masterpiece.

On a visual level alone, this movie works. Kids too young to understand anything about how movies are supposed to work laugh at the kayak, the fireworks, the tennis, at M. Hulot's gawky awkwardness, etc, etc.

It takes a bit more maturity, or perhaps immersion in Gallic sensibilities, to get all the underlying humor.

Whereas Monty Python takes more obvious pokes at the French, Tati's Hulot takes subtle swipes at the Brits and the Americans. It's 1953. The English speaking world has saved France from the Germans, but the French are losing the cultural battle not only to their liberator's language, but to their mechanized world. Hulot, the old French owl (note Tati's birdlike mannerisms), has become the awkward outsider in his own seaside resort. In that context, much of what might appear disjointed, takes on an appealing continuity. Ferreting it all out is like peeling an onion, layer by layer. Each viewing finds something new.

A film which improves with age and frequent viewing.

It's not surprising that most folks either love the movie or hate it. In fact, few films are more unlike today's comedy style than this one. It's neither manic, nor in-your-face, nor aimed at the belly-laugh. Instead, it's leisurely paced, subtly structured, and aimed at the mild chuckle, while the closest the set-ups come to the scatological are boys ogling the lovely Martine. So, all in all, don't expect to see its like at the neighborhood Cineplex anytime soon.

Tati's unusual brand of humor comes from observing life's minutiae—simple things, such as swinging doors, balky cars, and exaggerated social graces. In short, he manages to remark on the unremarkable in an amusing way. Of course, this kind of ground-level humor is not everyone's cup of tea. For me, not all the set-ups work; at the same time, the humor tends to wear thin over the 90 minutes. Still, there's a subtle charm working its way through that's quite compelling and unlike anything else I've seen. Perhaps the reviewer who finds an underlying innocence puts his/her finger on the secret of the appeal. And when the camera lingers at the end on the now deserted beach, there's a sense of some kind of wistful loss. But I've never been able to figure out exactly of what.

Jacques Tati's first Monsieur Hulot feature is an enjoyable throwback to the days of silent comedy, with plenty of Tati's own style thrown in as well. The series of vignettes passes by at a well-timed pace, and for all that there is little in terms of plot development, it's not long at all before you feel as if you know not just Hulot but the other characters as well.

The vacation setting makes for a pleasant, leisurely atmosphere that makes a nice setting for Hulot and the others. Each scene has plenty of good-natured humor, and most of them also contain some amusing details that are hard to catch the first time you see it, making it well worth re-watching.

The opening sequences are easy to identify with, for all that the story occurs in another time and place, since some of the numerous snags faced by the vacationers are common experiences. Then, from the time that Hulot leaves the door open as he enters, there is a non-stop stream of good comic material that highlights Tati's own character.

By keeping the dialogue to a minimum, it emphasizes the visual gags (with occasional sound effects), some of which are also amusing yet wordless comments on human nature. Tati's style would have worked very well in silent comedy, yet he also has his own character, not an imitation of Keaton or of Chaplin or of anyone else. He made even better use of the character in "Mon Oncle", but this one well deserves to be remembered and enjoyed as well.

"Mr. Hulot's Holiday" is a terrific comedy. But be warned, it is also deliberately paced, almost lacking in dialog, and absolutely plot less. In order for you to enjoy this film, you must not wait for the "story" to begin--there is not one. In fact, the film is not much more than a series of sight gags held together by a single set of characters and a single locale--but as such, it is brilliant.

Director/Star Tati's work in the Hulot films was an obvious influence on the solo films of Jerry Lewis a decade later. It is amazing that the French purportedly think Lewis a genius when in fact his best films (such as "The Bellboy," "The Ladies Man," "The Errand Boy," etc) borrow from the Tati style to the point of plagiarism.

Well, the original is better, and you don't have to endure the constant mugging.