La petite marchande d'allumettes

A very stylish outing from Jean Renoir spun from a simple children's fable from Andersen into something even simpler but memorably bleak as well.

The little match girl of the title is not so little here in the beautiful Catherine Hessling giving a mesmerising performance for Renoir, who filmed her lovingly in soft or blurred focus throughout. The story moves logically from trying to sell matches to live to trying to light them to live, in between with a child-like pressed nose to a café then a toy shop's window to living the dream while freezing to death in the snow. When your time's up even sheltering from the falling snow under a single plank can be taken away from you. There's some great low-key fancy camera and set trickery in the toy shop dream sequence such as Karen dancing in slo-mo through nets, and lovely smoky visuals especially the life and death chase through the sky. It can sometimes remind you of a silent pop video - the crew must had have fun piecing it all together!

Although it doesn't say as much for human determination as Passion of Joan of Arc from the same year (what could!), I've always found anything by Renoir to be highly enjoyable, educational and a salutary lesson in how to make art not Art movies.

Jean Renoir's "The Little Match Girl" despite being only about 32 minutes (although some sources list it as 40 minutes, the version circulating online isn't as long) is still an extended, loose reworking of Hans Christian Andersen's short, fairy-tale poem. The first obvious difference is that the "Karen," as played by Catherine Hessling, the director's wife, is not a little girl, but rather a woman in her twenties. Granted, the silent era was a time when adult stars the likes of Mary Pickford and Lillian Gish often played childhood roles or perpetual ingénues, but the casting here is striking relative to other cinematic adaptations of the short story, which had already been made into films in 1902 and 1914, at least. It should also be noted that the original French title, "La petite marchande d'allumettes," better translates as "The Little Match Seller." The casting also opens the story up for a quasi-love triangle involving Karen's infatuation with a well-dressed man and her interactions with a policeman, both of whom are also reflected in the film's extended death dream. Her matchstick hallucinations actually get comparatively short shrift this outing, which I'm not fond of given the projected visions' power as cinematic metaphor, but Renoir largely makes up for this with that dream sequence, which pulls out all the tricks from the era of French Impressionist filmmaking.

There is use of miniatures for the shack, practical effects are employed for a falling tree, actors play living dolls, and the wintry city sets are effective. The adjustments of lens focus, use of substitution-splices and, most of all, multiple-exposure photography or matte work creates some impressive impressionistic effects. The chase on horseback in the sky in particular is haunting. What else stood out to me viewing this after having already seen the single-scene 1902 adaptation by James Williamson, as well as the 1914 version, is how masterful film technique had became in the 1920s, especially in the hands of a great filmmaker like Renoir, as well as his cinematographer Jean Bachelet. The views and continuity editing based around looks is exceptional. A lot of glossy close-ups, eyeline matches, point-of-view and subjective shots and images framed through windows--and that's just before the matchstick hallucinations and extended dream sequence.

Casting an adult woman also works rather well to modernize Andersen's mid-19th-century tale. It extends the polemic beyond a cry to charity for the idealized blameless child, sharpening the critique on modern urbanity and capitalism. Automobiles and novelty toys are incorporated. My only complaint besides not more time being spent on the matchstick visions is that it's not clear why Karen doesn't go back to her shack. This is explained in other versions with her father and, sometimes, her mother being abusive, and I wonder whether this film weren't originally longer to provide such a reason. Someone else's arm--perhaps the father--can be seen when Karen exits the shack, but in the version I saw no such character remains. Anyways, Hessling was surely a more capable actress, too, than a child would have been, even if I'm not necessarily impressed by her reliance on head bobs and bug eyes. No longer simply playing to the Christian, nostalgic and paternal instincts of Andersen's sermon to save the children, when Renoir's Karen inevitably dies, she receives no sympathy in this world.

This is adapted from the Hans Christian Andersen story about a neglected, destitute matchbox girl who turns to light for a last flight of fancy. So how to transmute suffering into something that matters and we can take from?

It's so perfectly tailored for cinematic language of the time, sentimental but not daft; an outer story about hard-hitting emotional drama, ostensibly realistic but itself imbued with the afterglow of fairy-tales, and the canvas nested inside the mind that permits all manner of fantastic associations between the two fantasies.

The cruel father who sends her out to sell every night, is beautifully rendered as only a dark silhouette behind a window. Once out in the snowed street, the only one who notices the girl is the policeman. In their brief moment of intimacy before a shopping window they identify each other as toys behind the glass panel. It's good to note the distance they feel separates them, and therefore prohibits the romance, because it's repeated, then reversed inside the fantasy. They are again faraway, but eventually - imagined - very close.

The fantasy is brilliant, but first seems rather uninspired, the magic uncinematically transferred to the set design. But what seems at first as stuffy is revealed to be stuffy for a reason; the feeling is one of stasis and regression, the toys are life-like in size, so the girl reduced to their stature, hiding among them, finally finding love that extricates from the infantile level. Then a premonition of Death as the casting of the first shadow, here is where it soars and takes to the skies.

This second part truly amazes; Renoir does not merely transmute on the symbolic level by transferring notions between worlds, he transmutes for the eye as well. This heavenly world is in flux, rapid, violent. So we have a delirious flight of fancy as the couple flees from Death, a struggle, and eventually the capitulation.

You can read all of this as the wish-fulfillment of a suffering mind, the fluid dream world providing guidance from inside, or a spiritual blueprint with those things nested inside of it.

Eventually the cross, the rod of suffering, is transmuted in the tree of new life. We may think the blossoms spring up wistfully, because the fairy-tale calls for it, and perhaps for the filmmakers they were merely the proper symbols, but it is not quite so. Fairy-tales communicate something of our very soul, not the opposite. A common soul on her journeys through the world.

So, on an unconscious level, a sacrifice here points the road to the required breakthrough. The girl growing into a woman, then growing out of that too, and is a river its bank or the flowing water? Watch it again.

La Petite Marchande D'Allumettes is another of Renoir's bleak portrayals of meek and meager lives at odds with their milieu. Something about it though feels like a re-hashing of earlier Renoir works (Une Vie and La Fille...even Nana). This piece was filmed in the Vieux-Colombier and produced by Tedesco. I conjecture (or just straight up fantasize) that the pair brainstormed on a film concept that was to be "suited" for Renoir and Hessling together. I imagine the idea of adapting a famous tale (Andersen's short story) as a compromise (never a great way to produce art imo)... and what you get is something not quite original in any way whatsoever. Now, that isn't to say that the French Impressionist film techniques used in the hallucination sequences are not constructed and crafted with technical precision and genius intuition... but that it was already fertile ground for Renoir (and Hessling for that matter). I have previously hypothesized that some of Renoir's silent work was prophecy and prognostication through forming a death allegory between human freedom and the film industry itself. This may have been the last time that Renoir favored a stylistic system constructed around a protagonist's psychology and showcasing avant-garde editing techniques (impossible to say without a full print of Le Tournoi available). Certainly, Renoir's next film, Tire au Flanc would begin a shift toward a dominant stylistic system and diegetic construction (characterized by depth of field, mobile framing, multiple protagonists, etc.) that marked Renoir as a unique and exceptional filmmaker. Interesting also, that it was not sound film production that spurred this stylistic shift for Renoir as Tire was a silent film (although, I do believe it may have been the imminence of sound film that also had Renoir thinking one step ahead).

I just stumbled on this early and silent Renoir short (along with the delightfully bizarre 'Sur un air de Charleston') on a DVD of 'La Grand Illusion' and, really, I think I love it more even than that great film.

It's loosely based on 'The Little Match Girl' but owes as much to 'The Nutcracker'; a poor match-seller (played by Mrs. Renoir, the absolutely gorgeous and appealing Catherine Hessling, who can also be seen in 'Charleston'), overcome with hunger and cold, hallucinates the inhabitants of a toyshop window coming to life around her. I imagine the animation and other special effects must have been fairly pioneering - I'm certain they're more spellbinding than anything CGI could do - and the result is magical, enchanting, heartbreaking.

The version I saw had a haunting, note-perfect accordion soundtrack by Marc Perrone.

Much as I love his other work I could almost wish Renoir had gone on like this; I could wish cinema had gone on like this.