Il romanzo di un baro

Sacha Guitry was the greatest orator in movie history. Even greater than Orson Welles, in my estimation. But that does not make him the greatest filmmaker. He had real trouble in SHOWING the audience what was going on, rather than telling them. I think Story of a Cheat is the most successful of his films because he found a way of creating action--an example being the jewel thief who comes up with a novel way of stealing gems from unwitting marks. The two scenes with Marguerite Moreno in the cafe are wonderfully done, with great dialog. Otherwise the story is told through narrated flashbacks.

I've long wanted to see this French classic, and now Criterion has finally given me the chance via their Eclipse label (the box set also includes three later Guitry films, too). I have to say, I was a little disappointed after hearing it mentioned so much as one of the defining films of the era. But it's good. It's the film's central, original technique that gives the film it's fame, I think, but also what ultimately undermines it. The whole story is told from the point of view of a writer (played by Guitry himself) who is writing his autobiography at a café. Most of the film is told in flashbacks, with the gimmick that the author narrates every second of those flashbacks. Any dialogue that happens comes from the lips of Guitry, whether it be his character speaking or another. It's cute - at first. But narration is very difficult to pull off in films. It just so rarely feels necessary, since, unlike in a book, the audience can always see what is happening. A lot of film viewers just plain dislike it, and, with almost any film you see that uses it, you can find someone complaining about it. In The Story of a Cheat, I found the narration initially amusing. But after nearly ninety minutes of it, I have to admit I got bored with the gimmick. The story itself is very frivolous. It's charming, but, in the end, it doesn't equal all that much. It has a similar "champagne on corn flakes" feel that René Clair's films often do, but it isn't anywhere near as memorable as Clair's best French work.

As others have mentioned here, the films of Sacha Guitry seem to have sunk into oblivion in the English speaking world, which is odd since at their best they share much of the same quality and charm as those of Ernst Lubitsch or Max Ophuls, both of whom are still spoken of with deserved reverence.

This one might be the most well known of his films, for what that's worth, and is a similar story to Lubitsch's wildly overpraised but markedly inferior 'Heaven Can Wait' - the memoirs of an old rogue's misspent youth. It's a boon that Guitry, working outside of Hollywood censorship, could be much more frank about what his rogue actually got up to - the great weakness of Lubitsch's later film.

Much of this film is in fact silent, with Guitry's witty narration being the only speech. There is an excellent performance by Serge Grave as the young Cheat. The best scene is the one where the old Guitry runs into the now elderly Countess whose younger charms he has just been fondly reminiscing over. His discomfort is hilarious.

This is not my favourite of Guitry's films - that would still be La Poison - but it's a patchy and a whimsical delight nonetheless. And really, I'm just glad to have discovered all of them.

The plot follows the life of an unnamed protagonist who suffers a terrible tragedy in his childhood that sets him along a path in life in which he believes he who cheats avoids getting cheated.

Guitry also stars as the adult version of our "hero" a one-time bellboy in a posh hotel who eventually becomes a croupier in Monte Carlo before dabbling in thievery and cheating in casinos under a variety of disguises.

Things get off to a unique start as Guitry introduces the rest of the cast and the crew, not with written credits, but by showing them at work behind- the-scenes or hanging around the sets, with Guitry's voice identifying them. The most unusual thing about this movie is its narrative style. The story is told by the elder version of the protagonist writing his memoirs at an outdoor cafe, and the action occasionally stops for short vignettes at the cafe that interrupt his writing. But for the vast majority of the film, there is little to no spoken dialogue from the characters, but rather everything is narrated in voice-over by Guitry. What seems like a possible annoyance is actually quite charming, no doubt aided by Guitry's pleasant voice.

The action moves quickly, and the camerawork is vibrant. Many notable directors have named Guitry as one of their favorites and as an inspiration to their own works, including Orson Welles, Robert Bresson, and Francois Truffaut. I would even add the more recent Wes Anderson, whose work is obviously, if perhaps indirectly, influenced by Guitry's style. This is one of the 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die. Recommended.

Cahiers du Cinema classed this as one of '100 most important films' which is high praise indeed. It is years ahead of its time and has aged like a good wine. It is the first film to use a voice-over narration and Sacha Guitry has introduced his actors and technicians on camera thereby dispensing with traditional credits. This respect for and appreciation of the talents at his disposal is evident in his subsequent films. Guitry has adapted this from his own novel and within its eighty minute length is inventive, absorbing and entertaining enough to be rightly considered one of his best films. Marguerite Moreno is great as the Countess, there is the glorious voice of chanteuse Frehel and a brief appearance by Roger Duchesne as an anarchist. He went off the radar after the War amid 'allegations' of collaboration but resurfaced in 'Bob le Flambeur'. The art direction by Henri Menessier is superlative. Guitry was essentially a man of the theatre and his films have been described as 'anti-cinematic'. There is some truth in this and the staginess, verbosity and over indulgence of his later films are inclined to test ones patience but there are also moments of genius. He was an artiste whose devotion to his craft cannot be overestimated.