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It begins at a French inn a few hundred yards from the Belgian border.
A pair of lovers await the pre-dawn light to flee capture by the
authorities, but the inn's guests recognize the man, Amedee Lange, from
his wanted poster. The woman, Valentine, begs them not to turn him in
to the police, at least not until they hear the whole story of how Lange
came to murder his employer, Monsieur Batala.
The body of the film takes place in and around Batala's publishing house
where the workers are under-paid and live in poverty. The roguish
scoundrel of an owner keeps half-a-step ahead of his creditors, then
disappears when he thinks an investigation of him is closing in. The
next thing the workers hear is their boss has been killed in a railway
mishap. The workers secure financing from a rich investor and begin to
put the company on track to profitability in which they all have a
share. Just as the publishing cooperative is celebrating its success, a
very much alive Batala reappears to stake claim to his property.
Renoir had a large studio set built of the Batala factory and of the
adjacent residences and small businesses. This allowed for smooth
camera tracking and craning from one office or apartment to another. He
also lit this set for deep-focus photography so activities happening in
foreground and background spaces could be seen clearly. At the story's
climax there's a 360-degree pan from the center of the courtyard which
takes in the entire set.
Because this was a collaboration between Renoir and the October Group--
an avant-garde, left-wing theatre cooperative-- critics have not rated
it as highly as Renoir's individual masterpieces The Grand Illusion
and The Rules of the Game but this film does have its defenders.
Francois Truffaut, for one, considered THE CRIME OF MONSIEUR LANGE to
be Renoir's best movie. It is far too quirky and subtle to just be a
piece of collectivist propaganda. Jules Berry's portrayal of capitalist
Batala is lively and multi-dimensional. You may hate him, but he's no
cardboard cut-out villain. Private property isn't condemned-- just the
exploitative use of it.
"One of Renoir's most completely delightful movies. Fantasy, politics and gentle naturalism combine to perfection." — Time Out
"It is the multiplicity of points of view implied in Renoir's fluid direction that lifts the film from propaganda to art. Political filmmakers everywhere could learn a lot from Jean Renoir's 1936 classic."
— Dave Kehr, Chicago Reader
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showtime
Monday, May 8 at 7 pm
location
THE GREEN ROOM
144 West Street (across from the Comstock Hotel)
admission
$6 general / $4 GBFS members
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