Film Review
Of the 17 films written and directed by Marcel Pagnol the one that is
perhaps most readily accessible to today's audience is
Le Schpountz, an affectionate but
occasionally cruel satire of the film industry in the mid-1930s.
This was one of the first occasions in which cinema dared to turn the
camera on itself and reveal the backstage pandemonium that is only ever
seen by those who are mad enough to work in the industry. There
have been a few similar films since - most notably Luchino Visconti's
Bellissima
(1951), François Truffaut's
La Nuit américaine
(1973) and Mel Brooks'
Silent Movie (1976) - but
Pagnol's is perhaps the most revealing, and probably the most important
as it was made at a time when filmmaking enjoyed a certain mystique,
which was only lost with the advent of glossy magazines and upsurge of
celebrity culture in the 1950s.
Le
Schpountz lampoons not only the film makers, but also
star-struck cinema-goers who see themselves as the next Greta Garbo or
Douglas Fairbanks. It is reassuring to find that the craze for
instant stardom is not a modern phenomenon.
Pagnol's motivation for making
Le
Schpountz, his least typical film (certainly his funniest), was
primarily to get back at the troublesome so-and-sos who had frustrated
his early efforts, principally those actors, directors and producers
who were reluctant to make the transition from silent to sound
cinema. Marcel Pagnol was one of the most enthusiastic supporters
of sound when it came in in the late 1920s and, unlike many of his
contemporaries, he saw it as a massively positive development, a means
to achieve far greater realism in the portrayal of ordinary life.
Unfortunately, the prevailing view amongst a large section of the
acting and directing fraternity was that the introduction of sound was
a regressive step that would undermine the purity of the cinematic
art. Many of the characters in
Le
Schpountz were directly inspired by people Pagnol had crossed
swords with early in his career, including a prima donna actor who is
prone to flare up at the least provocation, a manic director who chews
the script in desperation whenever something gets in the way of his
artistic vision, and a producer whose only interest is making loads of
money. At first it appears that the main target of Pagnol's
satire are simple-minded film fanatics who see themselves as star
actors, but the real target is the unlikely assembly of lunatics and
parasites who miraculously manage to come up with something worth
putting up on a cinema screen.
The idea for
Le Schpountz
came to Pagnol whilst he was making an earlier film,
Angèle
(1934). During the location filming on that film, the production
team were repeatedly hassled by member of the public who believed he
was destined to become a great film actor. In the end, Pagnol's
film crew became so exasperated with this annoying individual that they
gave him a bogus contract in which it was stated he would take over the
role of Charles Boyer in a film. If this incident gave Pagnol the
starting point for a film scenario, the title was provided by his
cinematographer, Willy (William Faktorovitch), who first coined the
word 'schpountz' to describe a naive person who sees himself as a great
film star. (Nowadays, Schpountz is more often used as an
unflattering term to describe someone of German nationality, the French
equivalent of Kraut).
And who better to play the part of the Schpountz than Fernandel, a
popular comedic actor who had a particular aptitude for playing naive,
often deluded, characters in a sympathetic vein? Pagnol had
previously worked with Fernandel on
Angèle
and was keen to cast him in the leading role in another naturalistic
rural drama,
Regain. Fearing that the
actor would decline the part because it was so different from the comic
roles he had grown used to, Pagnol offered him the far more attractive
part in
Le Schpountz on
condition that he also agreed to star in
Regain. As it happened, the
two films were shot in parallel, with mostly the same cast and
crew. On the fine days, Pagnol would shoot Regain out of doors in
his beloved Provençal countryside; on the days when the weather
was less accommodating, the team would decamp to Pagnol's Marseille
studios to knock out the odd scene for
Le Schpountz.
The two principal hallmarks of Pagnol's very distinctive brand of
cinema are the authenticity of the characterisation and the quality of
the screenwriting, which has a rhythm and lyricism of its own.
Both of these are very much in evidence in
Le Schpountz. Not only is
this one of Pagnol's best written films, it is also the one in which
Fernandel gives his finest performance, in a part that was so evidently
custom built for him. Throughout much of his long career,
Fernandel was content to play the amiable fool in a series of mediocre
and now largely forgotten comedies and it was only when he was in the
employ of certain, particularly demanding directors (Marcel Pagnol,
Claude Autant-Lara, Henri Verneuil) that he proved that he was also a
very talented actor as well as a great comic. As the wannabe thesp
in
Le Schpountz, Fernandel
has ample scope to be funny, but he is equally adept at handling the
film's more serious passages. There is an exquisite
poignancy to the scenes in which the clown's mask slips from his face
and we are confronted with the insecure and intensely human individual
that lies beneath. It is hard to imagine another film which
allows Fernandel to run through his entire dramatic range and be so
thoroughly convincing throughout. Who can forget the iconic scene
in which the Schpountz shows off his histrionic versatility to the
Mickey-taking film crew? So as not to detract from the purity of
his performance, he insists on reciting an article of French Law: 'Tout
condamné à mort aura la tête tranchée' ('He
who is condemned to death will have his head cut off'). Only
Fernandel could wring so much infectious hilarity and poetry from such
a bleak, prosaic phrase.
Fernandel may be the star of the film, but he doesn't entirely
monopolise our attention. Orane Demazis turns in a fine
performance (one of her best), perfectly chosen to play Fernandel's
love interest. For the most part Demazis is little more than a
stooge for the film's charismatic lead actor, but she gets her moment
of triumph in a memorable scene that makes the most powerful defence
for the role of comedy in cinema. Improbable as it may seem, it
is left to Demazis to convince Fernandel's character of the importance
of comedy, concluding with one of the most beautiful and most
oft-quoted phrases in French cinema, which roughly translates as:
"Whoever manages to make those laugh who have most reason to cry should
be considered a saint." Just as pleasing to watch are Pagnol
regular Charpin, magnificent as the small-minded grocer who tries in
vain to put the Schpountz in his place, and Léon
Belières, who delights as the archetypal cinema mogul, evidently
modelled on Louis B. Mayer.
In common with several of his films, Marcel Pagnol subsequently turned
Le Schpountz into a popular
full-length novel, and the film was
remade (not very
successfully) by Gérard Oury in 1999, with Smaïn in the
lead role, supported by Sabine Azéma and Ticky
Holgado.
Le Schpountz
may have started out as a satire on filmmaking, a chance for Pagnol to
settle a few old scores, but it is actually far more than that.
It is one of the first films to pay tribute to cinema and celebrate its
diversity and social importance in the modern age. An undisputed
classic of French cinema,
Le
Schpountz has a surprisingly modern feel to it and has as much
to say in our present celebrity obsessed era as it did when it was
first seen, back in the dark days of the late 1930s. Its central
moral is one that cannot be repeated too often: there is no shortcut to
fame. If you want something badly, you've gotta work at it.
© James Travers 2013
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Next Marcel Pagnol film:
La Fille du puisatier (1940)