Le carrosse d'or

A small and poor Italian Commedia dell'Arte troupe has gone to colonial South America. Its leading lady Anna Magnani (Camilla) has three admirers: poor Spanish nobleman Odoardo Spadaro (Don Antonio), the Colonial Viceroy Duncan Lamont (Ferdinand), and the leading toreador Riccardo Rioli (Ramon), who struggle for her attention.

Very theatrical and obviously shot in a studio. Includes nice reconstructions of Commedia dell'Arte performances (though probably much better in the film than in reality). The troupe's children are charming.

This film is really a masterpiece. This was also French director François Truffaut's opinion, and he named his film company "Les Films du Carrosse" as a tribute to it. I once read a review in which the critic expressed the opinion that Anna Magnani's looks couldn't make it likely that the male characters of the plot fell in love with her. But this is a complete misunderstanding of the story, it is not because of her beauty they love her, but because she makes them laugh, she brings them to that other world which theater creates. For aren't we all made of the same stuff dreams are made of, as the great Will once wrote?... If you haven't seen this film, don't wait if you get a chance to watch it. In France, where I live, it's not available in DVD yet, but since it recently came out in the US, and in Japan, I am looking forward to soon finding it here.

This tale of an Italian commedia dell'arte troupe just landed in eighteenth-century Peru is an enjoyable time spent with Renoir and his company of players. It is similar in many ways to Renoir's masterpiece, The Rules of the Game (La règle du jeu) from 1939: the members of a large cast fall in and out of love with one another, with the inevitable jealousies, disappointments, and ecstasies. Renoir's sensibility also remains steadfastly eighteenth-century, as expressed in the quotation of a vaudeville song from the Marriage of Figaro in the titles before The Rules of the Game: 'Sensitive hearts, faithful hearts, who blame fickle Cupid, stop your cruel complaints. Is it a crime to change lovers? If Cupid has wings, is it not to flit about?' Renoir's feel for music is as clear in the Golden Coach as it was in Rules. Excerpts from Vivaldi form the soundtrack, and as familiar as they may sound to us in the twenty-first century, it was surely a more daring choice in 1952, when these pieces were only entering the mainstream. And how many films have a sight-gag with a serpent (the instrument, not the snake)?

Unfortunately, comparing the two films also shows that in revisiting these themes Renoir is not as inspired the second time around. Perhaps the difference is Renoir anxiously watching his world on the precipice in 1939 and gratefully seeing that something survived in 1952. The film is beautifully shot in Technicolor by Claude Renoir (Jean's nephew, who also shot Barbarella and The Spy Who Loved Me!) and the actors are uniformly good, especially Anna Magnani. If the Golden Coach isn't a masterpiece, it's still 109 minutes of pleasure for the eye, the ear, and the spirit from a master of his craft.

Jean Renoir's colorful English language comedy is not the masterpiece prevailing critical opinion would have you believe ("riotously textural!" raved the Village Voice), but it is a pleasant and entertaining novelty. A spirited Anna Magnani leads a troupe of Italian actors to a Spanish colony in 18th century Peru, where the appreciative Viceroy rewards her talent (and beauty) with the gift of a golden coach, setting off a small political and romantic scandal. It plays for the most part not unlike a literate stage farce, and Renoir emphasizes the theatricality of the story by directing (and shooting) it like theatre, with deliberate, flat compositions and distracting color costumes; the action even begins on a legitimate stage, the walls of which 'disappear' as soon as Renoir's camera dollies into it. The (at the time) newly struck 1992 print, presented by Martin Scorsese, shows obvious evidence of restoration only in the curious epilogue, which brings the story back to its original stage setting, and appears to have been poorly reconstructed on video.

I saw this recently at a retrospective celebrating the 50th anniversary of the founding of Cahiers du Cinema, and I approached it with some trepidation. I didn't know if I would like it as much as Renoir's more famous films of the 30s, and I had previously found some of the color films he did in the 50s to be less accessible. I needn't have worried; this film is a masterpiece. The color is sumptuous and breathtaking; I have always like Technicolor, in which this film is shot, for the richness of its palette. The acting is brilliant and introduced me to some wonderful actors I have never heard of before. Well worth viewing.