Film Review
Three years after he was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature in 1957, the
French-Algerian writer Albert Camus met with an untimely death.
Lying in the mud at the site of the car accident in the Burgundy town
of Villeblevin where he died was found a manuscript for a book Camus
had been working on before his death, a book in which he revisited his
childhood in Algeria of the 1920s. It would be more than three
decades before this final work by one of the twentieth century's
greatest writers and philosophers would see the light of day, published
in 1994 under the title
Le Premier
homme, having been carefully edited by its author's daughter,
Catherine Camus. This final novel by Camus is significant for two
reasons. Firstly, it is the work in which Camus reveals most
about himself; he writes affectionately about his mother and laments
the absence of the father he never knew. More crucially, it is
one of the rare occasions on which Camus was able to comment on what
was for him the most difficult of subjects, the war in Algeria.
Had the book been completed, it could conceivably have been Camus's
masterpiece; as it is, it is a fascinating work that offers a rare
insight into a man who was notoriously reticent about himself.
And now we have the film adaptation... Glug (that's my nearest
appoximation to the sound of a sinking heart). It's an engaging
enough production, competently directed by Italian filmmaker Gianni
Amelio with a keen attention to period detail, but it suffers from one
unpardonnable omission: the voice of Camus is distinctly lacking.
Fearing that her father's book might be subverted for political ends,
Catherine Camus was reluctant to allow it to be adapted and it was her
decision that a neutral Italian would direct the film.
Unfortunately, Amelio's political ambivalence on the Algerian question
comes across as a lack of engagement with his subject matter, and so
the film emerges as just another wishy-washy nostalgia piece which
loses its way in a maze of well-worn clichés and thereby fails to get
across the deeper messages in Camus's text. Yes,
the film does draw the obvious parallel between the writer's childhood
and Algeria's past, both containing the seeds of future distinction and
trauma respectively, but apart from this there isn't much intellectual
muscle to chew on and
Le
Premier homme ends up being reduced to a pretty run-of-the-mill
biopic, an easy watch but hardly a fitting tribute to a great writer.
Albert Camus's very noticeable absence from the piece is at least
partly made up for by the presence of Jacques Gamblin, who turns in a
creditable performance as the writer's alter ego (the older version),
Jacques Cormery. Gamblin's moody and introspective portrayal
evokes something of Camus's sensitive, darker side, although the poetic
and politically conflicted aspects of Camus's persona are less
convincingly evoked. Denis Podalydès also merits praise
for his rounded and authentic performance as the humanist academic who
supposedly inspired Camus in his youth and set him on the path to
literary glory. Lacking Gamblin's charismatic presence, the first
half of the film, which focuses on Cormery/Camus's childhood, struggles
to hold our attention, despite some impressive production values which
provide the most vivid reconstruction of Algeria in the 1920s.
The film only really comes to life when Cormery, now an established
writer, returns to his home town and undertakes a personal quest
into his own and his country's fractured identity. Anyone
expecting the film to reveal any deep insights into Albert Camus will
be disappointed, although it does point us in the direction where such
insights may be found: in the incomplete tome that Camus was working on
before he was snatched from us in such tragic circumstances.
© James Travers 2013
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Film Synopsis
August, 1957. Having pursued a successful career as a writer for
thirty years, Jacques Cormery decides to undertake a pilgrimage to
Algiers to visit his mother. But things have changed a great deal
since Jacques' childhood and the city is now ravaged by war. He
recalls his happy school days, his European and Algerian friends, and
Monsieur Bernaes, the teacher who guided him towards a life that was
inconceivable for someone from such a deprived, uneducated
family. Loyal to his past, Jacques wonders what can be done to
reconcile the native Algerians and Pieds-noirs, two peoples who have
lived together in peace for so long but who have now become mortal
enemies...
© James Travers
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.