Film Review
These days, when a film does well at the box office a sequel or
spin-off is more or less guaranteed. This is by no means a new
phenomenon, as
À pied,
à cheval et en spoutnik grimly testifies. The film
was a hastily concocted comedy that was clearly intended to capitalise
on the enormous success of Maurice Delbez's
À pied, à cheval et en
voiture (1957), with iconic comic actor Noël-Noël
reprising his role as mild-mannered everyman Léon Martin.
At the time, the biggest news story of the day was the launching of the
space dog Laika into orbit by the Soviets, aboard Sputnik 2. It
was an era when the sci-fi dream of space travel was looking like a
real possibility, and what could be funnier and more current than
sending Noël-Noël into space with a dog and a mouse?
À pied, à cheval et en
spoutnik has some strong concepts behind it but these appear to
have been thrown - almost as a casual afterthought - into a silly and
aimless comedy that plods its weary way over familiar territory.
It isn't until near the end of the film that Noël-Noël and
his dog finally get inside a Sputnik, and what happens then is hardly a
surprise. Before this mild flirtation with hardcore sci-fi, the
spectator has to sit through a dreary comedy that feels like the
slowest countdown to a rocket launch that the human mind can
conceive. There's practically no logic to anything that happens
in this film - it is just a succession of vaguely related comedy
situations lazily thrown together by a team of writers who had no clear
idea what the film was meant to be about.
The film is significant in that it was the final collaboration between
director Noël-Noël and Jean Dréville, a respectable
director who only occasionally let himself down with idiotic
non-starters such as this. It was on the hugely popular
La Cage aux rossignols (1945)
that Jean Dréville and Noël-Noël first worked
together, followed not long after by the widely acclaimed
Les Casse-pieds (1948) and one
segment in the anthology film
Retour
à la vie (1949).
Mediocre comedy though it is,
À
pied, à cheval et en spoutnik manages to distinguish
itself with the quality of its special effects, which are among some of
the best to grace any French film of this decade. The model shots
are on a par with those seen in bigger budget American sci-fi movies of
the 1950s, and the weightlessness scenes inside the Sputnik are
convincingly realised with Kirby wires, allowing Noël-Noël to
perform some surprising gymnastics without the illusion being broken
for a second.
Viewed today, one of the more fantastic aspects of the film is how
sympathetically it portrays the Soviet Union - not as a Cold War
adversary feared and loathed by the West, but as a modern, friendly,
forward-thinking nation ready to link up with the rest of the
world. Here we have a taste of that brief period of optimism in
the mid-to-late 1950s, the so-called Khrushchev Thaw, when relations
between the West and the Soviet Union took on a distinctly pally hue
after the demise of Stalin. It's hard to know what went wrong but
Noël-Noël joyriding in a Sputnik probably had little to do
with it, even if he did steal Yuri Gagarin's thunder by three years!
© James Travers 2015
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.
Next Jean Dréville film:
La Fayette (1962)
Film Synopsis
After a car accident which has left him with a partial memory loss,
Léon Martin takes up residence with his wife Marguerite in a
house in the country to recuperate. One day, Léon is met
by a dog which he is convinced is his own, the exact same animal that
went missing two years previously. In fact, the dog is a test
animal in a Soviet space mission and has just landed by parachute not
far from Léon's house. Understandably, the Soviets want
their dog back, but Léon has no intention of parting with the
animal. Once an agreement to return the dog is reached,
Léon is invited to Moscow as a guest of honour. He even
gets the opportunity to see the inside of a Sputnik just before it is
due to blast off for its next mission. What happens next is
entirely predictable...
© James Travers
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.