Barbe-Bleue (1951)
Directed by Christian-Jaque

Film Review

It is unfortunate that for his first colour feature director Christian-Jaque used a colour process - Gévacolor - that lacked the durability of other systems that were beginning to be employed around this time (Technicolor, EastMan Color).  In existing prints of Barbe-Bleue, the colours have faded badly so it is hard to have a sense of how spectacular the film would have been when it was first screened in the early 1950s.  That said, the film retains something of its sense of spectacle, with lavish compositions that are more than vaguely reminiscent of paintings by Peter Bruegel, particularly the snow-covered exteriors that convincingly depict a village of the 16th century.  It is worth remembering that before he became a director, Christian-Jaque started out as a poster and set designer, and his penchant for striking visuals is more than evident in this ambitious and quirky take on Charles Perrault's famous fairytale.

Christian-Jaque's Barbe-Bleue retains very little of the gruesome horror content of the original story - which was best visualised by Georges Méliès in his early silent film of 1901 - and instead resembles a frivolous piece of pantomime.  The whole thing is played for easy laughs, with Pierre Brasseur (now revelling in his status as the most monstrous of French cinema's monstres sacrés) hamming up the part of the supposed wife killer for all it is worth, egged on by an equally over-the-top Cécile Aubry.  There's no hint of restraint in Brasseur's performance - it is as large and silly as it could possibly be, and this is somewhat to the detriment of the film as it gives away the surprise twist that comes when Aubry (who could easily pass for a 12-year-old) sneaks into a cupboard and uncovers his embarrassing secret.

Crude and idiotic though the film is for the most part, there are plenty of good laughs along the way.  The highpoint is the hilarious sequence in which Brasseur recounts how he polished off his first six wives (he apparently squashed his Japanese consort by sitting on her, which given the actor's girth is all too believable).  The comic interplay between the two lead actors - neither of whom is particularly well-known for playing broad comedy - is always enjoyable to watch, even if their characters are idiotic beyond belief.  The problem is that, camp silliness aside, there is not enough humour to carry the film through and it ends up as a somewhat clumsy period romp which is only just redeemed by the care and attention that have been lavished on the sets and costumes.   In his earlier films with Fernandel (Un de la légion, François Ier) Christian-Jaque showed he could be a great comedy director.  In Barbe-bleu he goes completely off the rails and squanders a large quantity of money and talent to deliver what is no more than a daft children's pantomime - which is odd given that it isn't remotely suitable for children.  If you have to watch this lunatic comedy aberration, it's best to do so when you are too whacked out to care - preferably at Christmas, with several glasses of mulled wine inside you.

Film Synopsis

After the sudden death of his sixth wife Amédée de Salfère, known to all as Barbe-Bleue because of his blue beard, wastes no time finding himself a seventh bride.  Knowing Barbe-Bleue's reputation as a murderer, this news sends the villagers into a panic, but one girl who is not afraid of the reputed tyrant is Aline, the naive daughter of the local innkeeper.  Taking the place of Barbe-Bleue's next matrimonial victim, she makes a conquest of him at a ball with her girlish charms and in no time she is making her marital vows to possibly the most feared man in the land.  On her wedding night, Aline is too tired for anything but sleep when bedtime comes, so Barbe-Bleue regales her with a lurid account of what became of his first six wifes.  How he cherishes the memory of his multiple uxoricides!

Apparently unperturbed by the gruesome deaths of her predecessors, Aline enjoys a good night's sleep but finds herself alone in her husband's vast castle when he goes off to join the village hunt, as is the custom.  Now is her chance to see what secrets can be revealed by the mysterious key that Barbe-Bleue always carries around with him.  Taking the key from its box, Aline secretly opens a cupboard and is surprised to find hanging in it the dresses of her husband's previous six wives.  At the back of the cupboard is a staircase which, naturally, she feels she must descend.  What she finds at the bottom of the staircase takes her completely by surprise.  Barbe-Bleue is a bigger rogue than she imagined.  When he discovers that his latest wife has uncovered his secret, Barbe-Bleue decides it is time for her to join her predecessors.  Well, he does have a reputation to live up to...