L'Atalante

'L'Atalante' is such a lovely film from director, Jean Vigo, a man whose career would have been marvelous to behold had he not died so young. This was his last film and there are stories that he directed many of the scenes while deathly ill. This movie is a genuine masterpiece and is a must-see for anyone who truly loves the art of film. 'L'Atalante' is one of the pioneering gems of cinema.

It is a simple story about the first few days of marriage aboard a barge traveling the canals of France. Dita Parlo plays Juliette, a haunting beauty and a dreamer who longs for adventure and excitement. Her husband, Jean, is a realist who doesn't mind the rugged life aboard his ship. She tries to domesticate her husband, showing him the wonders of laundry and neatness. He is so used to the bachelor life that he doesn't even see the need to change the sheets when one of the many cats on board has kittens in their bed.

Juliette struggles with her new life and longs to visit Paris so she can explore and shop and dance and eat. She wants a more elegant and romantic life. Barge life gets more complicated due to the oafish first mate, Jules, who lurches around in a perpetual stupor and acts obnoxiously at the drop of a hat, all the while being rather charming and interesting.

When the barge finally reaches Paris, the couple plans a trip to shore. But the plan gets waylaid by Jules who isn't around to guard the boat during their absence. After a confrontation, Juliette leaves to explore her Parisian dream without Jean. And when Jules finally returns, Jean decides to abandon his wife and sets a course down the river.

A plot summary doesn't really do the film justice. Vigo employs gorgeously original camera angles and a poetic method of storytelling that makes this film impossible to forget. It has racy and subtle humor. It deals with sexuality unlike any other film of the era. It has a fantasy sequence whose power has rarely been rivaled, even in today's special effects bonanza. 'L'Atalante' is way ahead of its time. Watching this film is like peering through a time portal to the beginning of modern filmmaking. 'Citizen Kane' is often cited as the most influential film ever made... but 'L'Atalante' was 'Citizen Kane' before 'Citizen Kane'. It is no wonder that it still appears on many lists of the greatest of all time.

I find it amazing that the film, shot 70 years ago, in soft light and occasionally blurred focus, still manages to evoke truly powerful emotions and tangible sensations. Vigo's shots are cold, foggy, cramped, dirty, awkward and hard. But he slips a few truly sublime poetic moments in there to lift our hearts. When Jean regrets his decision to abandon Juliette he jumps into the river. The underwater sequence is an ethereal and magical moment in cinema. Their resulting journeys back to one another is romantic and altogether truthful. The film encapsulates the awkward and difficult early days of marriage and the journey to the days beyond, where 'real' love starts to grow.

The viewer is emerged in a simple film that transcends all sense of current time and space. Truffaut once said that he would prefer to make films with "dirty feet" than clean ones, and this film delivers such a world. The first mate on the barge has dirty feet -- and a magnificent collection of amusements and "magic". Watch for the puppet show! Charming to say the least as we delve into a mysterious lost world. It reminded me of the best of Cocteau with its magical feel, though it relied not at all on the mysticism and a magical world. It's at once a realist drama and a romantic fantasy.

I read once about someone saying that this film has been "surpassed" and is now overrated. What a fool. He's missing the whole point.

Show this one to your young children! They'll never forget it and love it forever!

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.

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.

"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