Film Review
À la conquête du
pôle (a.k.a.
The
Conquest of the Pole) has the distinction of being the last commercially successful film
made by Georges Méliès before his company, Star Films,
filed for bankruptcy. Méliès's inability to move
with the times and some ill-judged business ventures had taken their
toll and by the end of his productive career the great cinematic
pioneer had neither the money nor the motivation to keep up his
astonishing output. Loosely adapted from Jules Verne's novel
The Adventures of Captain Hatteras,
À la conquête du
pôle feels like an all-too-obvious attempt by
Méliès to emulate his most successful and best-known
film,
Le Voyage dans la lune
(1902). To watch them back-to-back you would never think that the
two films were made a decade apart. They tell virtually the same
story, employ all the same visual gimmickry and have pretty well all
the same gags - creatively, it is as if Méliès had stood
still, totally incapable of developing as an artist but being perfectly
content to stick with the formula that he had perfected.
As ever, Méliès had a finger, if not a complete fist, in
every aspect of the film's production, and he naturally takes the lead
role, a revered scientist-turned-explorer identical to the one he had
played in
Le Voyage dans la lune.
Where
À la conquête du
pôle does deviate from the earlier film it is usually via
some unfortunate digressions into politically incorrect humour. A
group of suffragettes are mercilessly ridiculed in the opening scenes,
and later Méliès indulges in some gratuitous national
stereotyping, with characters dressed and named in accordance with the
convention of the French comicbook (the American and German delegates
are named respectively Bluff-Allo-Bill and Choukroutman). For no
logical reason, once the race to the pole is under way all of the
competitors fly off into outer space and start colliding with comets
and other heavenly bodies. Maybe
Le Voyage dans la lune Redux would
have been a more apt title
.
When we finally get to the North Pole after a slight detour across half
the galaxy, it looks uncannily like the lunar landscape of
Méliès's earlier film, but there is one massive treat in
store: a gigantic, man-eating monster made entirely of ice. It's
patently obvious that as soon as it rears its ugly and wonderfully
deranged head that the ice monster is just an oversized puppet, but it
is by far the most imaginative and enjoyable thing in the entire
film. With his badly synchronised eye movements and clumsy
mechanical head gyrations this icy Leviathan takes on a personality of
his own and has no difficulty stealing the film, swallowing an explorer
one minute, spitting him out whole the next, much as how a critic of
the period may have reacted to the film. Méliès's
Ice Giant was the director's last great creation, a wacky precursor of
King
Kong and all those other gigantic man-eating monstrosities
that would burst onto the cinema screen in later decades.
© James Travers 2014
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.
Next Georges Méliès film:
Un homme de têtes (1898)
Film Synopsis
The world's greatest scientists gather to plan an expedition to the
North Pole. Various ingenious methods of reaching the pole are
put forward but it is Professor Maboul's flying machine that creates
most excitement. So proud is he of his achievement that the
professor invites the other scientists to his workshop where the
machine is under construction. Having chosen his team, made up of
representatives from various countries, Maboul departs in his flying
machine, followed by other scientists in their own weird
creations. The mortality rate is alarmingly high - many of the
brave explorers meet a horrific end as their vehicles explode,
disintegrate or crash. Maboul's own machine collides with a
constellation and comes hurtling down to earth, the crew miraculously
surviving as they land in the frozen wastes of the Arctic. In
this polar wilderness Maboul and his team come across the most
terrifying of beings - a fiercesome giant composed entirely of ice...
© James Travers
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.