Film Review
Director Henri Decoin and actress Danielle Darrieux made many fine films
together (
Le Domino vert,
Abus de confiance,
La Vérité
sur Bébé Donge), but few are as charming and funny
as the romantic comedy
Battement de coeur. Thanks to its prestigious
cast, witty dialogue and abundance of comic situations, this fifth Decoin-Darrieux
offering is a delight. It was also the last film they made together
before their divorce the following year, although they remained friends afterwards
and worked together on four subsequent films.
Around this time, American film comedies were all the rage in France and
this is reflected in their French counterparts, which adopt a similar screwball
style of humour, with quickfire dialogue and outlandish situations.
On its first release in February 1940,
Battement de coeur was a box
office hit and came just when France was facing its darkest hour, fighting
a losing war against Nazi Germany. The film was honoured with a Hollywood
remake entitled
Heartbeat (1946), directed by Sam Wood and starring
Ginger Rogers and Jean-Pierre Aumont.
It is incredible to think that Danielle Darrieux was just 22 when she
made this film - she was already a major star of French cinema, with
almost thirty films to her name. At the time, she epitomised the
modern young woman more than any other actress in France, hence her
immense public appeal. Not only was she eye-catchingly beautiful,
she was also spirited, self-confident and independently minded; she
brought not only glamour to her films, but also vitality and modernity,
and this is probably the reason why many of her early films still hold
up well today.
Battement de
coeur shows Darrieux at her feistiest and most versatile.
One minute she is playing the urchin tomboy, whistling and screaming as
and when the mood takes her; the next she is turning heads at a society
ball, eclipsing all and sundry with her elegance and radiant beauty.
If the film has a fault, it is that it is perhaps a little too
Darrieux-centric. Decoin assembles an extraordinary cast, but it
is his leading lady he dotes on, like a lovesick teenager. Claude
Dauphin, a comparable star, just about manages to hold his own as the
debonair embassy attaché who succumbs with predictable ease to
the that deadly Darrieux allure. Saturnin Fabre (one of the
greatest of French character actors) has the advantage of making his
presence felt before Darrieux shows up and manages to be both hilarious
and charmingly sinister as the proprietor of a school for
pickpockets. André Luguet also shines as the jealous
ambassador who recruits Darrieux for his own dubious motives. As
for the other distinguished players who fill out the lustrous
supporting cast (Junie Astor, Julien Carette, Jean Tissier, Dora
Doll...), most have only a fleeting presence and are elbowed into the
background as soon as the all-conquering Danielle puts in an
appearance.
Does it matter that there is a hint of complacency in the
screenwriting? The plot coasts along somewhat lazily and offers
no real surprises, whilst virtually all of the characters are all
well-worn archetypes who act exactly as we expect them to. The
film may be a tad predictable but it has no shortage of flair on the
directing and acting fronts. The script's main virtue is that it
abounds with humorous situations, and the dialogue is suitably crisp
and witty. There is even a suggestion of social satire, prompting
audiences of the time to reflect on how society dealt with its
parentless waifs. Darrieux's character Arlette escapes from
one bad institution (a state reform school), to end up in another (a
college for pickpockets), after which she is hired by a society figure
(an ambassador no less) to purloin a gentleman's watch. Arlette's
only crime is to have been an orphan, yet within no time she is a
fully-fledged society thief. The early scenes in which Darrieux is
introduced to the dark art of larceny are the funniest, and under
Saturnin Fabre's skilful tuition, she proves a very apt pupil.
Another highpoint is the musical interlude in which Darrieux sings the
song
Une Charade (music by
Paul Misraki, lyrics by André Hornez), which was subsequently
released as a hit record.
Battement de coeur is
undoubtedly one of the slickest and most enjoyable of Henri Decoin's
popular comedies. Decoin was one of French cinema's most
versatile filmmakers, equally adept at directing comedies, historical
dramas, crime thrillers, psychological dramas and melodramas. He
may not have been a great auteur but he was an immensely talented
technician with a knack for making films that the French cinema-going
public would flock to watch in their millions. He belonged to
what the directors of the French New Wave contemptuously referred to as
the
quality tradition, along
with such luminaries as Claude Autant-Lara, Julien Duvivier and Jean
Delannoy. Although Decoin is all too easily overlooked these
days, his films have stood the test of time better than most, partly
because they are well made and feature some of the most talented
performers of the day, but also because they deal with themes that have
a lasting resonance and are not merely pieces of populist
ephemera. When we think of French films of the late 1930s, we
immediately bring to mind doom-laden works such as Marcel
Carné's
Le Jour se lève (1939)
and Jean Renoir's
La Bête humaine (1938).
Battement de coeur reminds us
that another, totally different kind of cinema was also in vogue - one
that the French nation desperately needed if it was to get through its
darkest hour.
© James Travers 2012
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Next Henri Decoin film:
Premier rendez-vous (1941)