Le Duel (1939)
Directed by Pierre Fresnay

Film Review

Pierre Fresnay is widely recognised as one of French cinema's most sublime actors, a remarkably gifted character actor who achieved stardom early in his career as Marius in the stage and screen versions of Marcel Pagnol's Trilogie de Marseille.  What is less well known about Fresnay is that he had aspirations of becoming a film director and directed one film on the eve of the Second World War.  Released during the Occupation, Le Duel was Fresnay's first and only attempt at making a film and whilst the film enjoyed some popularity (no doubt on the strength of its impressive cast) it was soon forgotten and barely qualifies even as a footnote in Fresnay's incredible career.

Le Duel was in part a vanity project which came about because of Fresnay's desire to portray a Catholic priest, something he would later do to international acclaim in Maurice Cloche's Monsieur Vincent (1947).  Being a devout Catholic himself, Fresnay was admirably well suited to play a man of the cloth and so, by adapting Henri Lavedan's 1909 play Le Duel, he was able to fulfil a longstanding ambition.  In doing so, Fresnay delivers one of his most fascinating character performances, a convincing portrayal of a saintly priest who becomes unwittingly corrupted by a far from purely spiritual love for an attractive young woman.

The film was originally to have been scripted by Jean Anouilh, one of France's foremost playwrights, but when Anouilh reneged on a promise Fresnay had to look elsewhere and ended up handing over the script writing duties to Henri-Georges Clouzot and Jean Villard.  This is quite possibly where things started to go awry.  Anouilh could conceivably have made something of Lavedan's hopelessly dated play but Clouzot and and Villard, whilst competent screenwriters in their own right, lacked the skill and maturity to do so.  As a result, Le Duel is for the most part ponderous and stagey, a series of impressively interpreted scenes that fail to gel into a coherent and satisfying whole.  It doesn't help that Fresay's direction lacks confidence and parts of the film are so badly put together that it is a struggle to make much sense of what is happening (the opening reel is completely muddled).

What saves the film and prevents the spectator walking away in dismay are the totally absorbing performances from an extraordinary ensemble of acting talent.  Fresnay may be lacking as a director on the technical side but when it comes to directing actors he acquits himself admirably.  The scenes involving himself, his partner Yvonne Printemps and Raimu (blacked up and virtually unrecognisable) are mesmerising and give a tantalising glimpse of how great a film this may have been if it had been helmed by a more experienced film director (possibly even Clouzot himself).  Another noteworthy scene is the intensely romantic meeting of Printemps and Raymond Rouleau on the Eiffel Tower, an idyllic digression that is all the more memorable because it provides the one moment of escape from the brooding melancholia that drenches the rest of the film.  Fresnay's direction is at its most uninhibited in an inspired dream sequence that is both visually arresting and disturbing.

Had not WWII intervened, it is quite possible that Pierre Fresnay would have gone on to make more films (encouraged by those admirers who saw considerable promise in his first directing effort).  The constraints of working under the Occupation and then the tarnish Fresnay's reputation suffered after the war when he was (unjustly) branded a Nazi collaborator put paid to his filmmaking aspirations.  Fresnay's directing talents were confined to his theatrical productions, and in the course of his career he successfully directed around twenty stage plays, mostly at his beloved Théâtre de la Michodière in Paris.  Le Duel is an aberration in the career of one of France's greatest actors, but one that is not without interest.

Film Synopsis

Thérèse Jaillon is unhappily married to an aviator who is obsessed with breaking aeronautical records.  One Christmas, when her husband sets out on a flight she wishes that he would die in an accident.  Thérèse is overcome with guilt when the accident happens and her husband narrowly escapes death.  She confesses her sin to a priest, Daniel Morey, who, as he comforts her, gradually falls in love with her.  Coincidentally, it is the latter's brother, Henri, who is treating the injured aviator Jaillon in hospital.  Henri and Thérèse discover a mutual attraction and soon discover they are in love with each other.  Jaillon's death in another accident causes Thérèse to re-evaluate her future options.  Seeing the widow's distress, Daniel tries to persuade her to enter a convent, not realising that he is acting from purely selfish motives...