Sous les toits de Paris

"Under the Roofs of Paris" is a film written and directed by René Clair. His direction is lovely--with some creative and lovely camera-work. As far as the story goes, it seems a bit thin.

The film begins with Pola being vigorously dated by Fred. In other words, the thug Fred isn't about to take no for an answer--and Pola is naturally creeped out by him. Ultimately, Fred steals her apartment key and Pola is understandably afraid to return home. When she bumps into Albert, he takes pity for her and takes her home. Over time, they fall for each other. However, Albert is arrested (thanks to his friend Emil) and Fred isn't about to allow Albert and Pola to be together. What's to come of them?

Technically, the film is a mixed bag--though I really cannot fault the film for its deficits. Although the film is part sound and part silent, films outside the United States took much longer to shift to all-talking pictures--so I accept that French films still were making the transition. Sound-wise, this 1930 film is very similar to 1927's "The Jazz Singer"--with a few songs and a bit of dialog but otherwise being essentially a silent film. However, what was very advanced was the camera work and the crane shots--they were very impressive and the film sure looked great.

Apart from the technical, the film had a story that seemed a bit weak. There isn't a lot of depth to the characters, they aren't necessarily likable and I didn't feel all that involved with them. So, overall, it is worth seeing but not a must-see--and not as good as some of the director's other efforts.

René Clair's early sound films are amongst the best ever made. Le Million (1931), Quatorze Juillet (1933), and Under the Roofs of Paris (1930) are masterpieces of musical comedy and romance (I leave out perhaps his most famous, À nous la liberté, which I need to see again). Under the Roofs of Paris is the loose but good story of a young street singer (Albert Préjean) who falls in love with a girl (Pola Illéry). He has an uneasy relationship with a couple of pickpockets (including Gaston Modot, who also made L'Âge d'or with Buñuel the same year) who like to work when he's demonstrating his talent. In the film's opening scene, there is an amazingly edited sequence of one of these men at work. Everyone wants Pola, including Albert's best friend, Louis, and when Albert is framed for burglary, they don't think twice about going after her. Clair's direction moves like silk. It's so supple. The camera movements, full of crane shots and pans, is technically stunning, especially for the time but even now. And the use of sound is absolutely revolutionary. It's more or less half silent, half talkie. Unlike many early sound films, Clair keeps the dialogue to a minimum, so it's never clunky. Characters only speak when they have to; at other times, they gesture. The film is often described as a musical, but it is not. There are two songs, and the music arises diagetically from an accordion player. The music, and the use of music, are quite amazing. This is one of the most wonderful movies ever made.

The film marvellously shows the nostalgic dream of the old Paris and its common people. With melancholic irony, Clair tells a story of the milieu of backstreets and backyards, of street singers, pickpockets, fiddlers and strange townsmen. Here, his grasp into the present does not become realistic depictions of circumstances, but a poetic romance, for which reality is only one aspect of life.

In this regard, especially the sound has turned out quite well. And how hesitantly Clair used this new technical innovation! His generally critical attitude towards sound in films induced, that "Sous les toits" is mainly composed of silent parts (including many dialog scenes), which are highlighted with music or noises such as trains driving past. The song "Sous Les Toits De Paris" of Albert, the street singer, becomes to the red thread which links several scenes and bridges time distances. A fight taking place in the dark only informs the viewer through noises. For that, we witness a dispute, where the matter is uninteresting and predictable, without any sound - shot through a glass door. One can say sound is especially used for enrichment and left out when it would be needless. Thus, a film came into being that wonderfully combines sentiment, humor and intelligence with languishingly beautiful tunes.

René Clair's "Sous les toits de Paris" ("Under the Roofs of Paris" in English) manages to strike the right balance between happy and gritty. This jolly musical tells the story of a love affair between street singer Albert and Romanian immigrant Pola. Or at least, they attempt a romance. They're surrounded by all manner of lowlifes. This is not the gay Paree that we expect.

Released when talkies were still in their relative infancy, the movie has sound scenes, but also silent ones. It finds the right balance between them. Moreover, the characters are complex if lowly individuals. Watching it all these years later, I wonder which direction French cinema would've taken had World War II not happened.

Anyway, outstanding movie. Not the greatest by any stretch, but still impressive.

The great French film actor Jacques Tati made several films that tried to capture a Paris that disappeared even before World WarII. It was a world best seen through the gifted photography of Atget and Brassai. A world of intimacy, silent streets, virtually no traffic, limited means, but unlimited pleasures. A wonderful opening shot glides across rooftops to join a cluster of ordinary Parisians enjoying a singalong, an odd but compelling precursor of karaoke and rock concerts, but untarnished by special effects or hype. There is a sense that we are witnessing a street version of Lautrec's Moulin Rouge.

The cinematography is extraordinary. It can only be compared to Fritz Lang's "M", or the "Third Man". Very little actually happens and dialogue is used sporadically. Yet we find ourselves caring very much about the people about whom we know so little.

An unforgettable film.