Manon des Sources (1986)

07 Sunday Apr 2019

Tags

Claude Berri, Daniel Auteuil, Drama, Emmanuelle Béart, Favourite movie, France, Literary adaptation, Marcel Pagnol, Provence, Review, Yves Montand

aka Manon of the Spring

D: Claude Berri / 113m

Cast: Yves Montand, Daniel Auteuil, Emmanuelle Béart, Hippolyte Girardot, Margarita Lozano, Yvonne Gamy, Ticky Holgado

Now a young woman, Manon (Béart), the daughter of Jean Cadoret aka Jean de Florette, lives with a couple of elderly squatters, and tends to a herd of goats. Ugolin Soubeyran (Auteuil) has a successful business growing carnations on a nearby farm. Along with his uncle, César (Montand), Ugolin has purchased the land Manon’s father owned, and they have restored the spring they blocked so long ago, and which contributed to his death. Ugolin becomes attracted to Manon, but she rebuffs him; however, his attraction becomes an obsession. At the same time, she becomes interested in Bernard (Girardot), a schoolteacher who has recently arrived in the village. When Manon overhears two of the villagers talking about the spring, she realises that everyone knew and no one did anything to stop the Soubeyrans. When providence reveals to her the source of the village’s water supply, she blocks it up in the same way that her father’s spring was stopped. Soon the villagers are panicked and ready to listen when Manon publicly accuses the Soubeyrans of their crimes, but this leads to greater and still greater tragedy…

Shot back-to-back with its predecessor Jean de Florette (1986), Manon des Sources both extends and completes that movie’s narrative arc while telling its own story at the same time. It retains many of the first movie’s attributes and stylistic flourishes – Provence still looks absolutely gorgeous thanks to Bruno Nuytten’s exquisite cinematography – and co-writer (along with Gérard Brach) and director Claude Berri continues to ensure that the characters and not the plot remain the central focus of the movie. Manon is something of a wild child, able to live off the land and not entirely comfortable around others. She says very little throughout the movie, but when she does, her words count for something and are layered with meaning. She’s fiercely independent, and beautiful too – it’s no wonder Ugolin becomes infatuated with her. Urged by his uncle to marry (and thereby keep the family name alive), Ugolin’s feelings for Manon take the story to a very dark place indeed, but it’s a measure of Auteuil’s haunting and finely detailed performance that it’s easy to feel sympathy for Ugolin, even though he’s jointly responsible for the death of Manon’s father. As he sinks further and further into despair at being rejected, Auteuil shows Ugolin’s feelings of grief and sadness and above all, loneliness, as they overwhelm him, and prove too much to bear.

Our feelings about Ugolin also extend to César, as Pagnol’s tale widens in scope to include a revelation that puts everything into cold, heart-rending perspective. César’s pride and arrogance and greed do indeed go before a fall, but it’s one that is so spectacular that, as with Ugolin, the impact of his villainous behaviour is erased by the enormity of the retribution that engulfs him. Watching Montand as he shows César slowly coming to terms with the full import of what he’s done, and where his machinations have got him, is a masterclass in screen acting. Over both movies, César has almost been a secondary character, pulling strings and sitting back while his plans come to fruition, but here Berri reveals him to be the driving force of the narrative across all four hours, a man whose pathological need to maintain his family’s influence has ensured his downfall. The irony can’t be missed, but Montand handles it with subtlety and aplomb, just as Berri has handled the material throughout. By remaining faithful to Marcel Pagnol’s two-volume novel The Water of the Hills, Berri and his cast have ensured every nuance and moment of significance has been replicated with care and sincerity. The result is a movie that is every bit as good as its predecessor, but which does so on its own terms – and rightly so.

Rating: 9/10 – a fitting conclusion to the story begun in Jean de Florette, Manon des Sources takes its villains and makes them tragic figures doomed by the short-sightedness of their egos, while also introducing a heroine whose resourcefulness mirrors their own machinations (and there’s irony there too); as the second part of a duology, there’s a lot of pressure on it to succeed, but Berri et al have done a tremendous job in making this just as impressive (if not more so) than its precursor, and one of the finest examples of French heritage cinema that’s ever been made.

Mr. Topaze (1961)

02 Monday May 2016

Posted by dullwood68 in Movies

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Albert Topaze, Comedy, Corruption, Drama, Forgotten movie, Herbert Lom, Leo McKern, Marcel Pagnol, Nadia Gray, Paris, Peter Sellers, Review, School teacher

aka I Like Money

D: Peter Sellers / 97m

Cast: Peter Sellers, Nadia Gray, Herbert Lom, Leo McKern, Michael Gough, Billie Whitelaw, John Neville, Martita Hunt, John Le Mesurier, Joan Sims

Rarely seen since its release in 1961, Mr. Topaze has the distinction of being the first (and only) full-length feature directed by Peter Sellers. Adapted from the stage play by Marcel Pagnol (and already filmed on seven previous occasions, twice by Pagnol himself), Mr. Topaze has come to be regarded as Sellers’ “forgotten” movie, and unless there’s a print waiting to be found in someone’s attic, the only known existing copy is in the hands of the British Film Institute’s National Archive.

It’s an amiable drama with humorous flourishes, and tells the story of a school teacher called Albert Topaze (Sellers). He’s an honest man, known for his integrity, but he’s also incredibly mild-mannered, content to teach his pupils but with few if any social interests. He does harbour a romantic attraction for Ernestine (Whitelaw), another teacher, but she’s also the daughter of the headmaster, Muche (McKern), a circumstance that keeps him from wooing her except in the most awkward and unsatisfactory ways. It’s only when his friend and fellow teacher, Tamise (Gough), persuades him to be more manly and seize the day that Topaze reveals his love to a delighted Ernestine. But he’s still too afraid of Muche to approach him for her hand in marriage.

Before he can muster enough courage to speak to Muche, a more serious matter arises. A baroness (Hunt), the grandmother of one of his pupils, arrives at the school to complain about her grandson being bottom of the class. She believes Topaze has made a mistake on her grandson’s report, and wants Topaze to change it. Topaze stands by his markings which leads to the Baroness withdrawing all her grandsons from the school, the revelation that Topaze is in love with Ernestine, and his being fired by Muche.

But help is at hand, in the form of crooked businessman Castel Benac (Lom) and his mistress, musical comedy actress Suzy Courtois (Gray). Realising that his honesty and naïvete are the perfect attributes they need to help them with a crooked deal they have planned, Benac and Suzy convince Topaze to accept the role of Managing Director in a company that will facilitate the deal; and if anything goes wrong then he’ll take the fall. A visit from a business rival (Neville) of Benac’s reveals the truth but Topaze allows himself to be persuaded by Suzy to remain on board. Topaze goes along with Benac’s deception, even when he discovers the extent to which he’s been used. And this discovery leaves Topaze having to make a very difficult choice…

As mentioned above, Mr. Topaze is an amiable drama with humorous flourishes. It’s a movie that starts off quietly with Topaze and his pupils walking through the streets of Paris, and remains at an equally steady pace for the rest of the movie; sometimes it borders on being stately. But Sellers has made a good choice here because Topaze is a man of reflection, not a doer but a prevaricator, and to move things along at a more industrious pace would have altered the tone and feel of the movie as a whole. (A faster paced movie would have thrust proceedings into the style of a farce, and while that might not have been a bad thing, it’s not the kind of story Sellers is trying to tell.)

By focusing on Topaze’s introspective demeanour, and establishing his integrity, Sellers is free to make him the calm at the centre of the storm of emotions and drama that go on around him. From McKern’s antic turn as the obsequious and grandiose headmaster, to Gough’s effusive best friend, to Whitelaw’s pouting love interest, and to Lom’s blustering businessman, almost all the characters around Topaze are more animated than he is and by extension, more aware of the world around them. As he learns that he’s been duped, Sellers sidesteps the temptation to make Topaze as emotive as everyone else, instead relying on weary resignation to indicate Topaze’s disappointment and anger; after all, what difference will it make?

Sellers’ melancholy turn as Topaze wasn’t well received in 1961, with critics and audiences alike unwilling to accept him in a role that wasn’t as overly comedic as they were used to, but Sellers pitches the part perfectly, and even though it should be the other peformances that grab the attention, the viewer’s eye is always drawn to the former Goon. In fact, such is the strength of his performance that when he’s not on screen the movie seems to miss him; when he returns the movie also seems to heave a sigh of relief.

But while Sellers the actor is on fine form, Sellers the director doesn’t always make the most of Pierre Rouve’s screenplay. Rouve downplays the satirical elements needed once Topaze meets up with Benac, and the course of his disillusionment is played with only scant regard for the sad inevitability of it all. Sellers is on shaky ground during this part of the movie, as the plot takes centre stage, leaving his character development to drift along with the narrative. Benac and Suzy make for more interesting and compelling characters, and the ease with which Topaze’s protestations are overcome smacks of expediency rather than any natural development of either the storyline or the character. It all ends with an uncomfortable meeting between Topaze and Tamise that poorly illustrates Pagnol’s idea that there are no truly honest men in the world.

Seen from a distance of forty-five years, Mr. Topaze is an intriguing movie to watch, thanks largely to Sellers’ immaculate performance, but also due to its entirely unexpected nature (just the year before he’d appeared in The Millionairess and Two Way Stretch, playing characters that were more typical of his career up ’til then). Sadly it seems that the response to Mr. Topaze was disappointing enough for him to return to the type of roles audiences liked him for (although Stanley Kubrick was clever enough to cast him in Lolita (1962) as the parasitic Clare Quilty). And one short movie aside – I Say I Say I Say (1964) – he never directed again. A shame then, as on this evidence, and with some carefully chosen projects provided for him, Sellers could have been just as well regarded for his directorial prowess as his acting prowess.

Rating: 7/10 – better than contemporary audiences and reviewers described on its release, Mr. Topaze is a bittersweet drama that offers some simple cinematic pleasures along with a raft of enjoyable performances (McKern is particularly effective); that it feels a little slipshod once Topaze’s integrity starts to wear away is unfortunate and stops the movie from being as polished and cohesive as its first “half”, but this is still a movie worth tracking down if you can*.

Alas, there is no trailer available at present for Mr. Topaze.

*Mr. Topaze is available to view on the British Film Institute’s BFI Player, though in a version that runs just eighty-four minutes, which suggests that there is a reel missing from their print.