Film Review
Le Voyage imaginaire completes
a trilogy of silent fantasies which René Clair wrote and
directed at the very start of his illustrious filmmaking career.
Whilst it borrows some elements from Clair's previous two films -
Le Fantôme du Moulin-Rouge
(1925) and
Paris qui dort (1925) - it
is a far more ambitious and exuberant piece, with boisterous doses of
slapstick accompanying the director's most eccentric flight of
fancy. Among the unexpected treats offered by the film is a weird
digression into horror near the end of the film. The sequence in
which a hoard of murderous waxworks come to life in the Musée
Grévin eerily prefigures the zombie movies of a much later
era. This sequence builds to one of Clair's best visual gags -
the guillotining of a little dog - before pandemonium breaks out and
waxworks of Clair's comedy icons (Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin)
show up to save the day in what can only be described as
Waxageddon. It has to be seen to be believed.
Another personal icon that Clair pays tribute to in this film is the
peerless cinematic pioneer Georges Méliès, whose penchant
for camera effects proved to be an immense influence on Clair's early
films. Even the title,
Le
Voyage imaginaire, has a Méliès ring to it.
It's sad to think that just as Clair was crafting the most affectionate
tribute to his art the once revered cinematic illusionist was reduced
to earning his crust by selling toys and sweets at Montparnasse station in
Paris. The sequence set in the fairy lair, the deliriously funny
centrepiece of the film, not only looks as if it may have been designed
by Méliès, it is also chock-full of his most familiar
effects, including improbable transformations. In one hilarious
scene the heroine is converted into a white mouse, who is
promptly pursued hither and thither by the most unconvincing cat the
human mind can conceive. Wizened old hags become stunningly
beautiful young women (by virtue of another brilliant gag) and the hero
himself ends up being downgraded to a cute little dog (the
aforementioned canine stand-in for Sydney Carton).
For a film that revels in eccentricity we should not be surprised that
Clair gave the lead role to an acclaimed Swedish ballet dancer, Jean
Börlin, rather than an established actor. Börlin had
previously been glimpsed in Clair's surreal short
Entr'acte
(1924) and only appeared in one other film (uncredited), Marcel
L'Herbier's
L'Inhumaine (1924) before his
untimely death in 1930. Whilst not a natural actor, Börlin
has an amiable screen presence that suits his character perfectly, and
his athleticism is put to good use by his director. Börlin's
gorgeous co-star Dolly Davis is equally likeable - she went on to
appear in films until the late 1930s, without ever achieving the
stardom she merited. In the cast only one name is instantly
recognisable today, that of Albert Préjean - he had cropped up
in Clair's
Paris qui dort and
would become a major star of French cinema in the 1930s and 40s.
One other face that might be familiar to enthusiasts of early French
films is that of Maurice Schutz, who gives a superb performance in drag
as the aged palm reader (later to be revealed as a fairy who has lost
all her powers). Schutz's marvellously craggy features and
penetrating gaze were exploited by Clair in
Le Fantôme du Moulin-Rouge
and also brought a graveyard eeriness to such films as Jean Epstein's
Mauprat
(1926) and Carl Theodor Dreyer's
Vampyr (1932).
Le Voyage imaginaire is very
much an eager young man's indulgence fest, a lively and undisciplined
farce that abounds with visual gags and pretty ingénues in
scanty fairy costumes. It scarcely resembles the
sophisticated cinematic gems that René Clair would consistently
turn out once he had achieved maturity as a filmmaker. In common
with all of his silent films the plot is completely overtaken by an
adolescent sense of fun which the imaginative young film director can
scarcely contain. In thrall to the genius of Méliès
and the great American comics (note the homage to Harold Lloyd's
Safety
Last! (1923) with the death-defying punch-up on the rooftops
of Notre Dame Cathedral) Clair was living his dream - and who can blame
him for taking things to the limits of absurdity? It's nice to
think that, among his other achievements, René Clair invented
the zombie movie.
© James Travers 2014
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.
Next René Clair film:
Un chapeau de paille d'Italie (1928)
Film Synopsis
Jean, a modest bank clerk, is in love with his boss's secretary, Lucie,
but he is too shy to impose his feelings on the angelic being who has
stolen his heart. Besides, his two colleagues, Albert and
Auguste, are also lusting after Lucie, and, being less reserved, they
are far more likely to win her affections. One day, an elderly
palm reader visits the bank and tells Jean that he is destined to marry
the woman he loves. Whilst frolicking in the woods later that day
Jean sees the palmist being attacked by two men. He comes to her
rescue and, to show her gratitude, the old woman takes him to an
underground lair inhabited by a whole battalion of decrepit hags.
The palmist explains that she and her companions were once beautiful
fairies whose special powers were taken from them by an evil
magician. By kissing each of the old women in turn Jean restores
them to their former luscious selves. To show their gratitude,
the fairies bring Lucie to Jean, so that they may live forever in their
subterranean haven. A bad fairy cannot resist transporting Jean's
two rivals into the fairy lair, and to restore harmony Lucie must be
expelled. Jean elects to go with her. Before Jean departs,
the fairies give him a ring that will grant him his most fervent
desire. Albert tricks Jean into making a wish that has the
unfortunate result of transforming him into a dog...
© James Travers
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.