L'Atalante

"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

Forget that this shows up in magazine polls as among the ten or twenty best ever, that might set it up as something it's not and then we should be able to know for ourselves about the things we watch, develop an eye that effortlessly knows each thing in itself.

Concessions about what it's not, I didn't know all this myself, so let me quote some trivia. It was made in less than ideal conditions, by a filmmaker whose health had taken a turn for the worse (the tuberculosis that would claim him soon after), money run out at some point and they had to improvise stretches. The finishing shots were picked up without Vigo and it was probably edited without him.

Much like studio abuse heaped on Welles, it opened in truncated form, with another title tacked on by producers, got a lukewarm response and wasn't going to be rediscovered until much later. The restored version comes to us from as late as the 90s; it's moot to say how authorial it is.

And then to say that, far from an ideal project for Vigo, something he conceived from the start, it was a script about romance on a barge that came his way after producers had balked on something else he wanted to make, political. I have Vigo in my mind as someone who was fervent, eager to shuffle things and challenge norms, but alas, he would be gone within a year. Had he really been allowed to flourish and we had the luxury of a dozen films to evaluate, we might be looking back at this as something else.

We still have all that he captured on his last turn, the lovely journey, and even better so far as knowing him, the vision.

The journey has something immensely affirming about it, in how a girl from a small village agrees to marriage with the young captain of a small barge, refusing to settle for the ordinary life; she simply leaps into the boat with one clean swoop and leaves for a journey of horizons.

And this is Vigo's own commitment. He enters a story that is not his and sails on a journey of horizons. This is all mirrored in the girl who is so eager to simply take everything in, eager to brush up against everything, fascinated, keen to know. She's a joy to watch.

The whole film unfolds as something from her own soul, which is Vigo's. Characters brush up against each other in close quarters. Rooms are always overflowing with stuff, everything feels heaped together. There's a roughneck sailor onboard who has been all over the world, embodying all of Vigo's eagerness to share, now stories about Shanghai, then dance and play the accordion.

Zero de Conduite opened with two kids sharing toys with each other on a train, trying to impress and amuse each other. This is about youths sharing themselves with each other on a boat that sails through drab France, trying to find out. There's a lot of hugging and fondling between them with a sense of complete delight at the touch.

And this is how Vigo creates. Instead of "scenes" with beginning and end that advance a plot, tentative exploration, our eye rummaging through stuff. It feels like early Cassavetes. He's trying to find out what comes out from hiding.

Heartbreak eventually. The boy has grown increasingly controlling, dismayed at her free spiritedness. She wants to see Paris, he won't let her. Watch it to the end, it's lovely. He has dived in the river, looking to see her. She has been wandering alone around Paris. A marvelous scene intercuts between the two alone in separate beds, yearning towards the camera like out of New Wave. So she listens to music that summons up the old storytelling sailor who takes her back to him.

God knows what we were deprived of, in my mind even greater works. But I can see why Tarkovsky loved this.

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.

Jean Vigo's 1934 work "L'Atalante" has a very timeless quality about it. It is far more visual than much of the early sound films that were released in America or abroad at the time, and really keeps more with the intensely artistic side of much of the best silent works. My eyes were completely transfixed on the screen the entire time, as I enjoyed the brilliant cinematography and took in the realistic, almost tragic, performances of the leads. Being very low on dialogue, or at least pertinent dialogue, and telling a rather simple story, this film may not be for everyone, but I would certainly highly recommend it for anyone who considers film to be an art form. Sadly Vigo dead within months of the film's release, and could not create any more masterpieces.

There aren't many classics that are as deceptively simple as "L'Atalante". Its gentle, contemplative tone - punctuated by occasional stretches of Michel Simon's antics - conceals a carefully made film with some worthwhile themes that go beyond the story itself. The lavish praises that it sometimes receives have perhaps created unrealistic expectations, which is unfortunate, because it is a fine, though understated, classic.

Jean and Juliette, the two main characters, both have strengths and weaknesses that make them believable. Jean is responsible and disciplined, while Juliette is easygoing and gregarious (which makes her the easiest of the two to appreciate and to sympathize with). But Jean's rigidity and his occasional impatience, in combination with Juliette's naiveté and her occasional impulsiveness, make for difficulties in their relationship.

If they seem boring when compared to the couples in many other movie romances, it is precisely this that makes the film worthwhile. It focuses closely on two ordinary people, without distracting frills or forced social commentary. Most of us are not all that interesting to others, and our lives and problems are usually important only to us. It is part of Jean Vigo's achievement that he takes two such commonplace characters and makes them worth caring about, and by implication he tells us that we are all worth caring about, even if we and our lives may not matter much to others.

By keeping most of the action on board the boat, Vigo not only creates an atmosphere, but also forces the attention onto the characters. Simon's rather exaggerated character is used both to vary the pacing when appropriate, and to respond to the traits and actions of Jean and Juliette. The photography and the score are also used to round out the picture.

It may be true that the film is sometimes over-praised, but in large part that is simply an over-reaction to the unfortunate lack of attention that this kind of classic must so often endure. In an era when so many very weak recent movies have received regular television airings, special edition DVD's with all kinds of pointless "extras", and undeserved critical acclaim, it's all too obvious that movies requiring more effort to appreciate are too often ignored entirely.

Many recent romance movies have tried to use lavish production values, disaster or crisis settings, trendy techniques such as "non-linear" story-telling, and other such devices to cover up a lack of substance. Movies as different as "Titanic" and "The English Patient" (just to name two of many possible examples) use such methods in an attempt to pass off a romantic couple as heroic or admirable, when the characters in actuality are usually self-absorbed, vapid, and truly less worth caring about than Vigo's Jean and Juliette are.

Jean and Juliette, like most of us, know that they are not important in the grand scheme of things, and they are probably rather well aware of their own weaknesses. They are neither saints nor sinners, neither victims nor heroes, they are just human, and therefore worth caring about. "L'Atalante" itself is not "the greatest movie ever made", especially since there is no such thing anyway, but it is a thoughtful and carefully crafted classic that stays with you well after you have seen it.