Film Review
Were it not for a disastrous distribution deal, which prevented any of
his films from being commercially exploited for three decades, Pierre
Étaix could well have spent most of his life basking in the same
level of esteem as France's other comic genius, Jacques Tati.
A slip of the pen consigned Étaix to obscurity in the 1970s and
since then his name has figured as no more than a faint footnote in the
history of French cinema - until the mid-2000s, when the legal
wrangling over distribution rights was resolved and Étaix's
films were finally cleared for public showing. Recently restored
to their former glory and now widely available on DVD, these forgotten
gems look set to resurrect one of the lost heroes of French comedy.
Like his mentor Tati, Pierre Étaix made only a handful of films,
but each of them is a lovingly crafted compendium of sight and sound
gags that offers the most affectionate tribute to the great clowns of
the silent era of cinema. Étaix has been dubbed the Buster
Keaton of French cinema, but there is as much in his art to connect him
with Charlie Chaplin and Max Linder, although, across his short series
of films, he manages to forge his own distinctive identity - the
forgotten clown who, thankfully, is forgotten no more. The
precise, gentle comedy of Pierre Étaix invites not just
admiration, but also genuine affection. Sweet but never mawkish,
acerbic but never cruel, his films are packed with as much humanity as
humour, and will move you as much as they will make you laugh.
Étaix was pursuing a successful career as a clown, performing in
circuses, cabarets and music halls, before Jacques Tati hired him as
an assistant and gag writer on
Mon Oncle (1958). He then
appeared in front of the camera, in a small part in Robert Bresson's
Pickpocket
(1959) before turning to filmmaking himself. His second short,
Heureux anniversaire (1962),
won him an Oscar, and he received an equally prestigious accolade, the
Prix Louis-Delluc, for his first feature-length film,
Le Soupirant (1962). It was
then that Étaix made what is widely regarded as his masterpiece,
Yoyo, a film that is arguably
cinema's fondest tribute to the silent era and the sacred art of
slapstick.
In this film, Étaix plays two characters, a millionaire and his
grown-up son who becomes a comedic superstar. The story begins in
1925, so appropriately Étaix adopts the conventions of silent
cinema, the only sounds employed being exaggerated aural effects used
for comedic effect. This part of the film is uncannily
reminiscent of Michel Hazanavicius's film
The
Artist (2011), although Étaix is far more successful
in capturing the ethos of the silent era - the heightened emotionality
(exaggerated but never phoney) coupled with an appealing
unpredictability and anarchic sense of fun.
A troupe of flapper girls wildly dancing the Charleston provides a musical interlude
between some of the film's most memorable gags, the best of which shows
the millionaire taking his treasured poodle for a walk in a
chauffeur-driven limousine. This, together with the sequence in
which hoards of ruined brokers rain down on Wall Street amid the
turmoil of the 1929 Crash, would not be out of a place in an episode of
Monty Python's Flying Circus.
The style and tone of the film are subtly altered when the narrative
shifts into the era of sound cinema. The plot fast-forwards and
Étaix now appears as a famous clown, who is soon tragically
encumbered with wealth and celebrity. Rather than killing off
Yoyo's career, television has made him an even bigger star, but fame
and fortune do not equate to happiness and a wistful sense of
melancholia cloaks the film as Yoyo is drawn further and further away
from the milieu he loves. The face of Yoyo's smiling clown, a
recurring image in the film, becomes a symbol of sad regret, for a past
that is slipping away. Yoyo may be rich, an important society
figure, but he is as miserable and lonely as his father was at the very
start of the film.
Fortunately, the unexpected appearance of an old friend rescues Yoyo
from his arid life and he is transported back to his erstwhile carefree
existence, to carry on the life he was born for: to make people
laugh. The film's bittersweet ending mirrors the fate of
Étaix himself. After directing a documentary entitled
Pays de cocagne (1971), he gave up
filmmaking and returned to the life of the itinerant clown with the
Pinder Circus. From time to time, Pierre Étaix made a
return visit to cinema, most recently appearing in Aki
Kaurismäki's
Le Havre (2011), but the
restoration and re-release of the incomparable comedy jewels he himself
directed in the 1960s have thrust him back into the limelight, and not
before time. Étaix will probably never overtake Tati as
France's greatest comic talent but we can at last talk about them in
the same breath. One minute the yoyo is lying forgotten on the
ground, the next it is flying high in the air...
© James Travers 2014
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