La bête humaine

I was very surprised when I watched this film; right in the beginning I spotted a great deal of similarities with Fritz Lang´s 1954 flick "Human Desire", with Glenn Ford and Broderick Crawford, which I had previously seen. Both films are based on Zola´s story, and, obviously, the merit is Renoir´s, since his version is much better. The psychological and deep meaning beneath the coolness of the main character (Jacques Lantier, in a Gabin memorable performance) is handled superbly; so is his troubled relation with Simone´s character. Despite some boring shots, the photography and screenplay are gems, and "Bete Humaine" ends up being a great addition to Renoir´s filmography. I love him; "La Grande Ilusion" and "La Regle du Jeu" are two of my favorite films; a masterful storyteller and a curious observer of the human soul. A humanist.

"La Bête Humaine" is a crime drama partially based on Émile Zola's 1890 novel of the same name.

The story follows the locomotive engineer Lantier, who is obsessively attached to his engine, "La Lison", believing that the rhythm of the machine and his routine duties distract him from recurring, intense headaches. However, Lantier suffers from violent fits of rage, especially when alone with women - episodes that grow stronger under the influence of alcohol. During a brief stop for repairs in Le Havre, Lantier visits his aunt in a nearby village. There, he meets Flore, an attractive young woman from his childhood. Their reunion triggers a brutal outburst, revealing that the beast within Lantier is never far. Soon afterward, he witnesses a shocking crime and crosses paths with Roubaud, a deputy station master, and his seductive wife Séverine, who asks Lantier for a dangerous favor...

The story revolves around a single character caught in the collision between human will and innate nature. When themes of guilt and the rationalization of self-destructive behavior are added to that central conflict, what emerges is a deeply dark and brooding noir, filtered through Jean Renoir's distinctive cinematic vision.

The bleak atmosphere mirrors the mental states of the characters. Renoir often lingers on their faces, stripped of any hint of serenity. The train sequences are long, immersive, and among the film's most powerful. In the second half, the tempo picks up - likely to heighten the feeling of dread and discomfort - but this shift comes at the cost of character development: the protagonists stop reflecting and start reacting. The dialogue is sparse, with silences and ambiance doing much of the storytelling. At times, I wondered whether the growing silence magnified the nightmarish feeling that envelops the characters as we approach the film's climax.

Thematically, the film explores free will, caught between love, crime, loyalty, and guilt. There's also a strong human-machine dynamic: the locomotive becomes a place of solace for Lantier, while human relationships plunge him into turmoil. The central female figure is not a classic femme fatale, but rather a prism through which trauma and vulnerability are examined.

Jean Gabin is compelling as Jacques Lantier, a man whose calm exterior hides a storm of inner turmoil. With just a glance or slight movement, Gabin conveys the strain of holding back a violent side - the beast lurking beneath his skin.

Simone Simon plays Séverine, a mixture of allure, longing, fear, and guilt - a catalyst for conflict who tries to escape the cycle of male dominance, unaware that her actions only tighten the noose around her. Fernand Ledoux gives depth to Roubaud, a jealous and insecure man whose grip on his actions slips gradually, inviting violence as his only language.

Blanchette Brunoy appears as Flore, a gentle and caring figure - perhaps Lantier's last anchor to human warmth. Yet her tenderness cannot compete with Séverine's magnetism or with the silent darkness that descends when the locomotive falls quiet.

"La Bête Humaine" delivers a powerful psychological drama that neither accuses nor explains, but instead reveals flawed decisions, emotional wounds, and human fragility. It's an essential stop for anyone drawn to grim, unsettling thrillers from 1930s world cinema.

In all his splendid career, Jean Gabin can seldom have acted better than in 'La bete humaine' (= French for 'the human beast'). I do not exaggerate when I label his performance as breathtaking.

Apart from this, 'La bete humaine' is an excellently made film. Competent acting, to start with -- for instance by female lead Simone Simon, a forgotten name. This film's setting in a French railroad-environment adds the right amount of drama, and provides a solid foundation for its plot. According to the technical standards of 1938, its shooting is first-class.

'La bete humaine' is a novel from the Rougon-Maquart-series by the great French author Emile Zola. Back in the second half of the 19th century, Zola wrote 'naturalism': an ultra-realistic style with a bottom-line of pessimism. Coincidence or not, this style fits well with the year 1938, when Adolf Hitler's dark shade was already looming over Europe.

The two most noted elements of Jean Renoir's classic "poetic realist" precursor to film noir are indeed the two elements I felt worked more as ends in themselves than seminal features of the story. They are the use of the train as "one of the film's main characters," as Renoir himself describes, and the characterization of Simone Simon's "femme fatale." There is genuinely palpable sensory vibrance in the extensive book-ending sequences of Jacques, played by Jean Gabin, and his best friend utterly obsessed by manning a steaming, chugging locomotive as it speeds down railroads, in and out of pitch black tunnels, and blackens their faces with the smoke it incessantly pumps into the sky. The flames of the furnace, the peripheral landscape speeding by. We have the feeling not of watching reality but of being occupied by it, a feeling prolonged as we experience, as if for the first time, the impact of abruptly emerging from a tunnel, ultimately screeching to a halt in the linear spectacle of a vast rail yard.

I suppose the speeding train is supposed to spark the fierce percussion that outlines the film. Other than these two extended set pieces, La Bete Humaine is a succession of mercurial sketches. It all flows from labor and of the limited time stolen from labor. It's a film of hurried transitions, where all appear to be perpetually passing through doors or climbing stairs or peering out windows. Volumes are spoken when the seductive wife of one of Jacques' colleagues is greeted into her lustful godfather's study while the door is warily closed behind her. A reckless Jacques flees the dance hall unobserved by the dancers, engrossed in their ecstasy. I was intrigued that we see the moments before and after all the murders and seductions but not they themselves. So many crisp exchanges of glances. The blackening impact of a wife's chance admission is found in the way she and her aggressively jealous husband can't bear to look each other in the eye.

Uncharacteristically of me, I found the remake much more affecting. Fritz Lang's Human Desire is, to me, the stronger film in terms of character. La Bete Humaine gets its themes across in its own restless way, but the result is lightweight in effect, while Lang's 1954 version is unyielding in depicting the spiritual isolation of the characters. He punctuates the dramatic action with threatening shots of the many railroad tracks interlacing and breaking away. He needs not brandish any certainty of intention for them to act as metaphor for the characters' paths tying themselves in knots. Lang remained in the shadows as a more effective way of showcasing a distinctive style. Strait-jacketing its insight and intensity, Human Desire is the more resonating parable for the shadows of human rationale and the distortion of the heart, and of desperate characters who lead disappointed lives.

Renoir cast Simone Simon as the adulterous wife at the center of Emile Zola's falling house of cards. He posits that the cute, innocent, kittenish women are the ones to watch out for because you are so enamored with their sweet and endearing nature that you would never suspect them of manipulating you. Well, that is very true. All of us, men and women alike, have encountered a female of this deceptive kind. She is a femme fatale in her own right. But Simon remains in the role of an exotic object, rather than meeting the male characters on their own level, the way Gloria Grahame does in Human Desire. Grahame was always seductive enough to make you crazy, but so audacious. There wasn't a demure bone in her ferociously sexy body, but that made her even more effectively cunning and guileful. She came at her male puppets headlong, and matched their presence as well as their wits.

Grahame and Glenn Ford remain sympathetic in their own respective ways, though one is in some sense a champion and the other is an adversary, just like Gabin and Simon here, but Grahame and Ford evoke a more lucid understanding of their desires, and in the face of the cruelty and ruthlessness in getting what they want, regardless of how far they unravel each other's darkest colors, despite the scorpion-like sidestepping around their flirtatious relationship. Accordingly, Human Desire is a boldly familiarizing study of the sense of right and wrong, achieving its shadowy effect by aiming for your heart and loins rather than only your cerebrum. The development of the drama in La Bete Humaine could be totaled in roughly ten or fifteen close-ups. Renoir just bulks up the lonesome hardships of his three central characters in a wholly animated world of locations and things. If one doesn't totally take in the materiality of the rail yards, rooming quarters and dance halls, the incessant coming and going on platforms and in corridors, the buzz and capricious commotion grinding amidst any personal dilemmas, we can barely be so involved in the uninvited and unconscionable devastation brought down on the three jinxed protagonists.

At any rate, in its own right, La Bete Humaine is a fine piece of stylized realism about disillusionment, done with an embellished aestheticism that, while it draws more attention to its representational elements, is still what gave Renoir's great films Grand Illusion and The River such beauty, humor and vitality. It is best to see this film unfettered by Fritz Lang's later adaptation, to take into account all of the fixations of its own time and culture without any outside influences, to see it as its own (human) beast.

Jean Renoir's "La Bête Humaine" is an excellent screen adaptation of Émile Zola's novel, which also contains some excellent photography and a fine performance by lead actor Jean Gabin. While usually overshadowed by Renoir's other more (justifiably) celebrated masterpieces, in itself it is a very good picture, with Zola's ideas and characters providing ideal material for the great director.

Most likely, the reason why "La Bête Humaine" is less appreciated than Renoir's other works is because it is so closely tied to the novel - which itself is actually part of a series of novels. Someone not familiar with Zola would find it harder to understand some of the action, especially the behavior of the main character, railway engineer Jacques Lantier (Gabin). There is a brief message at the opening of the film explaining the basic theme, but it would hardly be possible to bring an audience completely up-to-date with just a short note.

The novel on which the film is based is part of a series of 20 novels that Zola wrote, which cover the history of a single family through several generations and through several decades of 19th-century French history. Each of these stories is capable of standing on its own, but they are more satisfying if you know at least something of the broader context. "La Bête Humaine" is one of the last few volumes in the series, and accordingly, it largely assumes a familiarity with the basic themes. Zola had two main concerns in these novels: (i) to show how certain family traits (positive and negative) re-appear in successive generations, and (ii) to show how the lives of a particular family reflect events and trends in French society as a whole. Zola was a naturalistic writer - he had a strong sense of identification with and sympathy for his characters, but he also portrayed his characters and his country in an uncompromising light, just as they were.

There are at least a couple of ways that this context helps better to appreciate the film version of "La Bête Humaine". First, Jacques Lantier comes from a branch of the family that was particularly plagued with mental instability. He has many positive qualities, but also is tormented by barely-suppressed violent urges. Gabin does an excellent job (as he always does) of portraying his character, but some of it is lost if the viewer is unaware of who he is supposed to be. Second, the railway setting, interesting in its own right, is meant to be suggestive of other forces, both within Lantier's mind and also outside of his life. (The action in this story is supposed to have taken place in about 1870, a tumultuous time in French history.)

All of this comes together in the outstanding opening sequence, which shows Lantier's train rushing across the countryside. The beautiful photography and skillful editing help us to feel as if we were in the train with him, and all of this is supposed to suggest not just the setting of the story to come, but also the powerful forces - both inside Lantier and outside of him - which he cannot control.

All of the subsequent plot developments - interesting and sometimes surprising in themselves - build on this foundation. This is nicely and carefully done, even if some of it is unfortunately lost if the viewer does not know a little of the wider context.