Film Review
Jacques Tati lives again, thanks to the efforts of Sylvain Chomet and
his Edinburgh-based team of animators. Chomet is of course the
man who brought us the beguiling but frankly weird Tour de
France-themed animated feature
Les Triplettes de Belleville, a
major hit in 2003. Chomet now employs the same style of classic
2D animation for his follow-up feature, which is a melancholic study on
the decline of the music hall in the 1950s. If you are wondering
where Jacques Tati fits into this, well the film is adapted from a
screenplay which he wrote in the mid-1950s, intending it to be his next
film after
Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot
(1953). In the end, Tati decided not to make the film because he
felt its subject was too serious.
Sylvain Chomet had previously resurrected Jacques Tati for a cameo
appearance in
Les Triplettes de
Belleville, and it is this little homage which prompted the
comedian's daughter, Sophie Tatischeff, to offer Chomet the screenplay
for his unmade film. Chomet repaid this compliment handsomely not
only by creating a magical work of art from Tati's script but by making
the film a celebration of Tati and his oeuvre. Fans of Jacques
Tati will doubtless derive great satisfaction from spotting the numerous
references to his films in
L'Illusionniste.
Since Tati was himself closely associated with the music hall in his
youth, the film naturally has an autobiographical element to it.
The music hall was where Tati began his career in the 1930s, performing
mime acts of various kinds of sportsmen. The plot of
L'Illusionniste reflects
Tati's dwindling popularity in his later years and his struggle to keep
going at a time when cinema audiences had lost interest in him.
It is apparent that the main character in the film is Tati himself, a
lonely figure who is tragically driven to keep alive a dying art, with
little chance of success.
L'Illusionniste is a a film
that is worthy of Jacques Tati himself. Like Tati's own work,
this film is understated yet exquisitely poignant, and crafted with
intelligence and tenderness. Chomet and his team achieve a
perfect balance between humour and pathos, ending up with pretty well what
its author had envisaged, Tati's own version of Chaplin's
Limelight.
Yet the film is more than just a tribute to Jacques Tati. It is a
heartfelt lament to the passing of the music hall and to the
innumerable diverse talents who once had audiences in their
thrall. Those were the days, my friend...
© James Travers 2010
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.
Film Synopsis
By the end of the 1950s, the music hall is all but dead. Once the most
popular of public entertainments, it has now been overtaken by modern distractions
- cinema, rock music and that new phenomenon: television. Those
old favourites - the acrobats, the jugglers, the ventriloquists and stage
illusionists - now struggle to make a living, unable to attract the crowds
that once marvelled at their skills. One ageing conjuror fears for
the future of his art. He has given up trying to find work in Paris,
so he packs up his tricks and moves to England.
In London, the illusionist finds work just as hard to come by. He ends
up earning a pittance appearing in half-empty provincial theatres, private
functions and cafés. His dispiriting itinerary takes him up
to the west coast of Scotland. It is whilst performing at a village
pub in this remote spot that he meets Alice, a young woman who feels strongly
drawn to him. Despite the immense difference in their ages, the illusionist
and the barmaid are about to become the best of friends. Each will
mark the other's life forever...
© James Travers
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.