L'Atalante

My big problem with "L'Atalante" is how much of what we see and hear was really Jean Vigo's intention (as he didn't finish it) when he was making it? The restored version is the only version and was reconstructed from many disparate bits about 15 years ago, meaning it has had running order interpretations foisted upon it. I think most of the film we see came from the BFI in London, remixed with other clips into some kind of logical sequence by Gaumont in Paris and sold as a Forgotten Masterpiece.

Well, if you can call such luck ending up as a masterpiece it was purely unintentional by Vigo - he didn't see what we do now.

What we have though is definitely a series of relentlessly beautiful, thought-provoking, impressionistic black and white images hung together for 87 minutes with a very flimsy story of 3 people on a barge. The kid was background fluff and doesn't really count. Simon was his usual farcical self, I wish he'd been background as well. Daste and Parla were both later in "La Grande Illusion", can you really forget her as the German widow Elsa in favour of this? The framings and compositions are wonderful to see - how important was it to include distant shots of power stations, cranes etc? Why did Daste stare right into the underwater camera? How come every available surface seems uncomfortable or strewn with bizarre objects or people? Why just the one short aerial shot? And so many other questions which are either pointless or beyond my intelligence; somebody somewhere must know!

I find every time I watch "L'Atalante" it grows on me - I thought it was pants in '91, now I think it's brill! We all move at different speeds - some people will never be able to see this as anything but boring while some people thought it was a classic before they saw it! Whereas I'm still on the voyage of discovery with this one and will definitely watch it again, but not as an indispensable film, more as akin to a trip to the Art Gallery.

L'Atalante is one of those films that doesn't really survive it's critical reputation. It's not so much that it's overrated as that its status as a Cinematic Masterpiece by a French Auteur casts a heavy burden on it which the light, airy film can't escape.

But enough meta-criticism. Taken on its own, L'Atalante is a charming film about a honeymoon whose light nature and relaxed pace manages to immerse the audience in a realm of simple pleasure. There's little dialogue, and Vigo draws on the attractions of silent film, with a lot of light humour and simple representational images. It's a world you would want to step into, and one that you almost think you can.

Alas, things cannot stay so serene forever, and so trouble eventually arrives in our honeymooners' relationship. The plot is believable and well-observed, if not exactly captivating, but I have to say I missed the more leisurely early parts.

I can't help but compare L'Atalante with a film with a similar storyline and inverted structure, F. W. Murnau's Sunrise. L'Atalante undeniably comes off worse in the comparison: it simply doesn't achieve the epic grandeur that Sunrise does. That doesn't mean it's bad, but it seems unavoidably like a prototype for a film released in the previous decade, and that makes it hard to live up to the hype. Still, it's a nice experience, and that's more than you can say about most films.

Newly married couple Juliette and a ship captain Jean struggle through marriage as they travel on the L'atalante along with the captain's first mate Le père Jules and a cabin boy.

"L'Atalante" was mutilated by its distributor. Gaumont cut the film's run time to 65 minutes in an attempt to make it more popular and changed the title to Le chaland qui passe ("The Passing Barge"), the name of a popular song at the time by Lys Gauty, which was also inserted into the film, replacing parts of Jaubert's score. Vigo was too weak to defend the film as his condition grew worse. The film was a commercial failure, which is somewhat startling considering how it is now regarded as one of the all-time greats.

This film is what has made Jean Vigo so celebrated. It is his only full-length film, and one of only four films total. And yet he remains a towering figure in France approximately 80 years later.

"People are strange when you are stranger

Faces look ugly when you're alone

Women seem wicked when you are unwanted

Streets are uneven when you are down…" by Jim Morrsion (1963-1971)

…And city of light and love is dark and depressing when you are there without your beloved.

Director Jean Vigo died young (at 29, of septicemia) just after he finished his third and last film, "L'Atalante" which is one of the screen's great romances, about a young barge captain Jean (Jean Daste), who takes his bride Juliette (Dita Parlo) to live aboard his boat. They are in love, they fight, she disappears to see Paris, he goes searching for her, can not find her, they are both desperate and miserable until the first mate (Michel Simon in a superb comical performance) decides to find her and bring her back…

The film has many magical moments, such as the young man searching for his sweetheart under water or the movie's most erotic scene that display both Jean and Juliette tossing in their lonely beds during one aching night of separation searching for each other, longing for each other, realizing how painful and meaningless life is without the one they love.

Vigo knew that he was dying – "I am killing myself with L'Atalante", he said. His death at 29 is one of the cinema's great losses. We can only imagine what masterpieces he could've created. L'Atalante with its simple compelling story, humanity, intense, lyrical romanticism and candid eroticism shows that Vigo was a visionary and experimentalist of outstanding quality.

Filmmakers as diverse as Francois Truffaut and Lindsay Anderson have acknowledged Vigos's influence on their work.

Highly recommended: 9/10

As wonderful as this film is, it is really a disservice to pronounce it one of the greatest movies ever made. Whether it is or not one of them (ultimately a matter of subjective taste), such a proclamation, especially on the front of the box, puts *way* too much pressure on such a subtle, quiet film. I saw this film with high expectations (because of all of the drooling by critics), and frankly that pretty much ruined the experience. It's just absurd to suggest (by inference) that the majority of other films pale by comparison to this one.

I think it is a fascinating and very interesting movie with some moderately touching scenes, but "may be the best film of all time"? That's not fair to such a quiet, unassuming, subtle film that requires sneaking up on you to have any impact. Honestly, if the director hadn't died young, had such a promising start, and been French, I doubt anyone would have made such a huge deal over the movie. Had Vigo lived another 20 years and made 10 more movies, they would likely have categorized this film as excellent juvenilia.