Crainquebille

Crainquebille (1922)

** 1/2 (out of 4)

French film from director Jacques Feyder about a poor vegetable peddler (Maurice de Feraudy) who has a misunderstanding with a cop and ends up spending two weeks in jail. The peddler was loved by everyone but when he's released from prison he finds that everyone has turned their backs on him. There's a lot to like about this film but at the same time there's a lot not to like. Technically this film is near perfect. There's some terrific cinematography here and the use of tinting comes to wonderful effect. There's two scenes of fantasy, one taking place in a courtroom and the other being a nightmare sequence. Both segments are incredibly well done with a wonderful touch of surrealism that really jumps off the screen. de Feraudy is also perfect in his role and director Feyder keeps the film moving at a lightning pace. So, what's the problem? There isn't a single emotion to be found in the film. I didn't laugh, there wasn't any suspense and there was really any drama so I'm really not sure what the film was going for outside the visual quality.

As I like old french movies in old settings, I had to see "Crainquebille" by Jacques Feyder. And I was deeply surprised, the Feyder direction is great, settings are really from another age, but the most fabulous is Maurice de Féraudy as Crainquebille, he is so natural and touching. The scenes during the trial are outstanding, so much poetry, and many other scenes are wonderfully shot. That "Crainquebille" is a must-see for french cinema lovers.

Those who had read 'L' Affaire Crainquebille' by Anatole France in Le Figaro in 1901 could not but draw parallels with the Dreyfus Case that was then polarising the nation. Dramatised for the stage in 1916 it was brought to the screen by Jacques Feyder a year after its esteemed author had been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature for his 'nobility of style and profound human sympathy'.

This poignant tale of a street vendor broken by a fallible judicial system struck a cord with Feyder and reflected his sympathy for the less privileged members of society. This is only his second feature following the exotic 'L' Atlantide' and shows a creative imagination at work to give us a personal vision of Paris together with delicious Expressionist moments, notably in the Trial scene where figures are enlarged or minimised, the camera is at times distorted to depict the hapless Crainquebille's confusion and a bust of Marianne, symbol of the Republic, turns her head so as not to see the farcical proceedings. As well as being considered 'avant-garde' the film was a commercial success and one of the few French silents to be given North American distribution.

The original does not hold out much hope for Crainquebille the outcast and the director has chosen to insert a relatively optimistic ending in which he finds unexpected redemption in the form of a street urchin played by the immensely appealing Jean Forest.

At the age of 63, Maurice de Féraudy, a longstanding member of the Comedie Francaise, personifies the title role which affords him his finest filmic hour and cinematic immortality.

Anatole France's verdict? "I really don't remember that there were so many things in my novel".

The first minutes are outwardly simple to the point of being ham-handed, yet I deeply admire the shrewd means by which they actually serve to smoothly introduce us to characters and establish the setting. Mixing in touches of the more common expository techniques we see in the silent era, the film deftly lays the foundation for a tale of poverty juxtaposed with fine living, kindness and cruelty, lightheartedness and dour human drama, the mercurial whims of public perception, and the unreason, arbitrariness, and corruption of the "criminal justice system." There's further underhanded but cutting commentary in the basic human amenities afforded to prisoners, essential needs which the average person is made to pay for in their own lives and sometimes can't afford. Yet for all the themes and ideas that 'Crainquebille' broaches with surprising fullness, all these and many more, it does so briskly in a runtime well under the modern norm for full-length feature. Moreover, one can easily imagine how the same story threads might be approached and significantly expanded upon if Anatole France's tale were adapted in the twenty-first century, yet for however tragic or infuriating the picture may be in turn in this 1922 rendition, it maintains a certain sprightly quality that keeps the proceedings from becoming wholly mired in the more downbeat moments.

All this is to say that from a fundamental standpoint of the writing - dialogue (as related through intertitles), scenes, characters, and the narrative at large - this movie is unexpectedly smart and calculated, with all parts bent toward spotlighting the major thoughts underlying the plot. I can only congratulate filmmaker Jacques Feyder for such sharp intelligence, which extends also to his orchestration of shots and scenes as director, infusing each with a small spark to keep us handily engaged. Assembled as well with some clever instances of cinematography, editing, and otherwise visual effects, 'Crainquebille' is characterized by a gratifying level of wit and skill across the board, down to the excellent costume design, makeup, and sets. To that point, the cast also demonstrates commendable nuance in their acting, and it's a pleasure just to watch them ply their trade. It's only natural that Maurice de Féraudy should stand out most as the title character, but it's no mistake that he was given the lead role, for he brings the man to life with a completeness and vitality in his performance that's most welcome; meaning no disrespect to his co-stars, de Féraudy definitely takes the spotlight (if anything second only to the screenplay).

The end result of all this, I'm happy to say, is a silent classic that's highly enjoyable even as it dallies with timeless themes that are quick to make the blood boil - enjoyable, and very satisfying. The tale may be relatively straightforward and unsophisticated, yet by all means it's all that it needs to be to keep one solidly invested. Why, more recent films with all the advantages of big budgets and huge star power sometimes struggle to attain so strong a measure of emotional depth and impact as this readily does. The absolute heartfelt sincerity of the production, storytelling and film-making alike, shines through from start to finish, not least in the exquisite last few minutes. I can understand how some modern audiences have a hard time abiding older features, and I'd have said the same myself at one time. But good movies are good movies, no matter their age, and this is one that holds up tremendously well 100 years later. It perhaps isn't so remarkable as to totally demand viewership, yet whether one is specifically a fan of the silent era or just looking for something good to watch generally, Jacques Feyder's 'Crainquebille' is an exceptionally well done, absorbing slice of early cinema that continues to stand tall on its own merits. If you have the opportunity to check it out, this is well worth anyone's time.

There's one thing to note here, the old man's subjective experience of the courtroom where he's on trial, and later on the nightmare where it is more vividly relived; figures are unnaturally large or small, blacks and whites are inverted, and the judges storm from their pedestals across the room in thunderous slow-motion. It's an arresting sequence of internal anxieties.

So even though the film has been jotted down in film history as realist - the Parisian marketplace bustling with activity, the sellers pushing their carts down cobble-streets - it is this, impressionist we call it now, inversed look of objective reality from inside the mirror that strikes some spark now.

But compared to what more renowned French filmmakers - Gance, Epstein, L'Herbier - were attempting at the time or were gearing to, it leaves something to be desired. Example: the state prosecutor, whose court rhetorics intimidate the simple old man, is envisioned as gigantic; but Feyder frames him in a full shot that makes the court appear miniscule and the prosecutor normal, which is clearly not what was intended from what the intertitle lets us gather.

So it is all a bit improvised for effect, in an effort, that was taken up in France at the time, to distend cinema from the theatrical point-of-view foisted upon it by the earlier generation of filmmakers.

The moral of the story is actually more interesting; it is not the rigid, surreal system of law and justice that tears the individual, this anomy is endured with quiet, baffled dignity and some measure of ritual fatalism, but the society that bestows a final respect on the word of this system; a collective whole which Feyder reveals to be thoroughly hypocritical, petty, small-minded, and ultimately heartless.

So it is not surprsing that the guardian angel turns out to be a kid; not yet swallowed in this collective cruelty, a person who can see from the heart.

Other than that, there are some lovely evening atmospheres that you may want to see; empty streets lined up with lights, a bridge across an expanse of water. It's all painterly, quite evocative of a sense of place.