Film Review
It was in the spring of 1964 that François Truffaut came across
an article in the French newspaper
Le
Monde that provided him with the subject for his eleventh and,
some may argue, most personal film,
L'Enfant
sauvage.
The article was a review of a recently published
book by the eminent sociology professor Lucien Malson,
Les Enfants sauvages, mythe et
réalité, which presented 52 documented cases of
feral children from 1344 to 1968. The story that most interested
Truffaut was that of Victor of Aveyron, who was discovered living wild
in 1798 and subjected to a laborious process of civilisation by Dr Jean
Itard, a specialist in deaf and dumb children.
Having read the article, Truffaut immediately rushed out and bought
several copies of Malson's book, intending to make the wild child
Victor the subject of his next film, a welcome distraction from his
recent box office failure,
La Peau douce (1964). To
assist on the screenplay, he hired Jean Gruault, with whom he had
worked successfully on
Jules et Jim (1962). In
spite of Truffaut's commitment to the film its gestation was slow and
painful. At one point, the script became so long that the film
could have ended up as a three hour long epic. The script went
through many revisions before the film finally went into production, in
the summer of 1969.
Another difficulty was finding financial backing for what promised to
be a low-key auteur film, of limited interest to the mainstream.
Having opted for a near-documentary realist style similar to that
favoured by Robert Bresson, Truffaut was insistent that the film would
be made in black and white and would feature no big name actors.
In the end, he managed to persuade the American distributor United
Artists to put up the bulk of the finance, as part of a two picture
deal that included
La Sirène du Mississippi (1969).
The latter film, a sumptuous location piece starring Catherine Deneuve
and Jean-Paul Belmondo, was thought to be a sure-fire success, so its
box office receipts would more than make up for the anticipated losses
of
L'Enfant sauvage. As
it turned out, the glitzy Deneuve-Belmondo thriller proved to be a
dismal flop and it was
L'Enfant
sauvage that brought home the bacon, finding success both in
France (where it attracted an audience of 1.5 million) and
internationally.
Although Truffaut was not consciously aware of it whilst preparing the
film,
L'Enfant sauvage had a
significant auto-biographical dimension. Not only does the film
revisit a subject very close to the director's heart - children
excluded from society and denied the adult attention they need to
develop properly, so poignantly explored in his debut feature
Les 400 coups (1959) - it also
touches on his close personal relationship with André Bazin, the
influential film critic who became a spiritual father and who helped to
civilise him. A neglected child himself, Truffaut became an
outspoken proponent of the rights of the child, the one social and
political cause to which he lent his voice and was wholeheartedly
committed throughout his adult life.
By making
L'Enfant sauvage,
Truffaut not only acknowledged his debt to André Bazin, he also
sought to pay homage to silent cinema and those directors who had had
the strongest influence on him. It is not too difficult to spot
the gracious nods to such luminaries as Jean Vigo and Jean Renoir, and
the casting of Jean Dasté in a prominent role reminds us of the
esteem in which he held these great auteurs of French cinema.
Truffaut's use of the iris to close scenes is the most visible
reference to the silent era, but the sparsity of dialogue and reliance
on visual cues are just as eloquent in their praise of the early
cinema. In his attempt to recapture the grandeur of the silent
film, Truffaut is well-served by his cinematographer Néstor
Almendros. So successful was their collaboration that Almendros
became the director's cinematographer of choice, working on eight of
his subsequent films, including his elegant tribute to film noir
Vivement dimanche! (1983), the
last film Truffaut made before his untimely death in October 1984.
It was with some reluctance that Truffaut decided to play the part of
the central adult character, the humane but driven scientist Dr
Itard. This was the first time that the director had taken a
credited film role, although he had made cameo appearances in some of
his previous films. The task proved to be more challenging for
Truffaut than he had imagined, but he found the experience an
enlightening one, the first time he was able to closely identify with
an adult character in his films. He found that Itard's
relationship with his wild child subject mirrored that of his own
real-life experiences with Jean-Pierre Léaud, the star of his
first film who, under his tutelage, became a popular and successful
actor. For this reason, Truffaut made the decision to dedicate
the film to Léaud, his own wild child. Despite having no
prior acting experience, Truffaut turns in a remarkably astute and
engaging performance. He would take the lead in two of his
subsequent films,
La Nuit américaine
(1973) and
La Chambre verte (1978), and
Steven Spielberg gave him a substantial role in his sci-fi blockbuster
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
(1977).
Finding an actor to play the titular wild child was even more
problematic. Around two and half thousand schoolboys were
interviewed for the part before Truffaut's assistant came across
Jean-Pierre Cargol, a 12-year-old gypsy boy whose uncle (it was later
discovered) was the flamenco guitarist Manitas de Plata. With his
dark skin, penetrating eyes and lively, almost feral persona, Cargol
was an ideal casting choice, almost as wild in real life as the
character he portrayed on screen. Truffaut had high hopes for the
young actor and even took pains to teach him the rudiments of film
directing, but Cargol's association with cinema extended no further
than one other film - Geoffrey Reeve's thriller
Caravan to Vaccares (1974) - in
which he had a small role.
As in George Bernard Shaw's play
Pygmalion,
L'Enfant sauvage depicts the
painstaking process by which an educated man attempts to civilise a
noble savage, the assumption being that it is better to be civilised
and live within an ordered society than to eke out a hard, cultureless
existence as a wild outsider. Having been rescued from savagery
by his own Professor Higgins (André Bazin) Truffaut clearly
holds the view that man
is
improved by civilisation, this being the only route by which he may
achieve his full potential. Whilst it covers similar ground, the
general tone of the film is somewhat more optimistic than that of
Les 400 coups, where the main
protagonist (Truffaut's alter ego played by Jean-Pierre Léaud)
appears to be permanently excluded from society as a result of parental
neglect and societal indifference.
In
L'Enfant sauvage, Truffaut
pointedly asserts his own view on society's obligations to children and
his belief that no child can develop into a well-rounded individual
without the committed attention, love and support of responsible
adults. Yet, underlying this positive message, there is also a
subtle note of regret. As Victor becomes increasingly drawn into
the civilised world, as he becomes tamed and educated, we cannot help
but feel a sense of loss at the severing of his ties to nature.
Whilst it is undoubtedly the case that human beings are enriched by
culture and the society of others, it is also true that this
civilisation comes at a cost, a permanent exile from the lush Eden that
all other creatures seem to inhabit with enviable insouciance.
Dr Itard may rejoice in his success at the end of the film, but
it is hard to miss the whiff of tragedy in the final
shot of an enlightened Victor as he contemplates his future.
© James Travers 2013
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Next François Truffaut film:
Les Deux Anglaises et le continent (1971)