Jour de fête (1949)

Director/Coscreenwriter: Jacques Tati

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By Marilyn Ferdinand

This is part of the Criterion Blogathon hosted by Criterion Blues, Speakeasy, and Silver Screenings.

Jour de fête was the very first film I saw that was directed by France’s comic master Jacques Tati, and I’m delighted to say that it began a love affair with his relatively few, but endlessly intriguing filmic creations that I don’t expect to end before I do. Our acquaintance was made in 1995, the year the color version of the film was restored and made available to viewers for the first time by his daughter, Sophie Tatischeff, and cameraman François Ede. It played the Music Box Theatre in Chicago, and I can’t say that the restoration of the failed Thomson-Color experimental color process looked all that great—in fact, it was pretty dreadful, at least to someone who had never seen it in the black-and-white version, or should I say in one of the two spot-tinted black-and-white versions, one with and one without a painter character.

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Still, nothing could hide the genius of Tati and the great love he had for cinema and France. Paying a visit to a one-day fair in a small French town and watching the hilarious misadventures of the local postman, played by Tati himself, was the most pleasant vacation I could take from my big-city woes—woes with which Tati would empathize and lampoon repeatedly in all of his feature films. Jour de fête, his feature debut, was his deceptively simple first volley at the giant maw of modernity.

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The opening image of a caravan carrying merry-go-round horses down a snaking road to a town square, a young boy skipping behind in anticipation, conjures the idea that we are entering an enchanted valley that time forgot. We even have a fairy tale narrator—a severely bent old woman leading her goat and commenting on the people and activities surrounding her. Once in the village, we see nothing but horse-drawn vehicles and bicycles conveying objects and people, even elegantly dressed people come to town to attend the fair. Livestock and chickens walk and flap around the square and freely wander in the homes of their owners.

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As the carnies unload their truck to set up their rides, midway games, and movie theatre, one of them, Roger (Guy Decomble), spies a lovely young woman, Germaine (Santa Relli), beautifully framed in a third-story window. The two flirt across the distance until his wife emerges from their caravan to give him what-for. Nonetheless, Germaine hurries down to the square, and in a sweet and ingenious scene, the two appear to carry on a flirtatious conversation with the dialogue from one of the movies to be played that day substituting for their voices.

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We get an oblique hint that Tati’s entrance is imminent when Roger’s wife is shown to a mailbox where she can drop a letter. Soon, traveling the same winding route as the carnival workers, the real entertainment of the evening arrives. Like an old vaudevillian transferring his act from stage to screen, Tati arrives in the postman character from many of his short films, most notably The School for Postmen (1947), back straight as an ironing board, trousers fastened to his ankles with bicycle clips, and arms flailing to swat the wasp that dogs his descent.

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For the rest of the film, Tati as François performs one gag after another with exquisite physicality. Around the village, he is a friend and helper, someone the villagers turn to as perhaps the only government official around to take a leadership position. For example, in one of my favorite gags in the film, the men of the village are trying to erect a pole in the middle of the square from which they can hang a banner with the French tricolors. The pole bobs precariously around the square until François is prevailed upon to lead the effort. He gets everyone organized, instructs a rope handler how to brace himself with the rope, and the pole gets raised. The cleat that will hold it in place still needs to be secured, but strangely, the man with the hammer keeps missing the spike. As François looks into his face, we get a close-up of his crossed eyes, a dead ringer for silent film comedian Ben Turpin. François moves one of the spikes to the left of the one on the cleat, and our man hits his target dead on.

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However, this regard by the villagers encourages François to adopt an officious manner, causing those who meet him for the first time to make him the butt of their fun. Two of the carnies entice him into a café, get him drunk, and use a handheld kaleidoscope to circle his eye with black pitch. His staggering attempts to get on his bicycle and complete his route see him plunging helplessly into a thicket and attempting to ride a fence that has entangled his bike, scenes that play all the more hilarious for Tati’s uncomprehending distractedness.

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When he finally returns to the square, he and the villagers are inspired by a preposterous newsreel of U.S. postal service efficiencies, including the use of helicopters and parachutes to get postmen through their appointed rounds. François decides to deliver mail “American style,” and devises methods to mount, dismount, and drop off letters with such speed that he even manages to outpace a cycling team on the road. (Is it possible that the USPS decided to sponsor a professional cycling team some 50 years later because of Tati?) The villagers cheer him on all the way as he skewers their mail on hoes, silently sneaks a package containing new shoes onto a block just as the butcher is bringing down his cleaver, and runs two cars off the road. When he finally speeds right off the side of a bridge and into a creek, our ancient narrator picks him and his bike up and rides them into town.

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The ambition of the stunts pushes the film into surrealist territory. For example, a long sequence where his bike takes off on its own, forcing François to give chase, quite reminded me of the absurdist novel by Flann O’Brien called The Third Policeman in which a character steals bicycles when he believes their riders have exchanged too many cells with them and have become more than 50 percent bicycle. Tati filmed without sound, and his ability to play with the soundtrack to insert dialogue and diagetic sounds in addition to his gloriously quaint music allows him to orchestrate his humor precisely.

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For a first feature, Tati has surprisingly strong control, calling on the conventions of silent films and vaudevillian stunts and recrafting them into a cinematic ecosystem all his own. While he was not able to achieve the color palette he so clearly wanted with this film, as indicated by the dialogue he wrote, his later films fairly vibrate with color. Finally, while the horrors of the modern, mechanized world would come in for more specific drubbing in such later films as Mon oncle (1958) and his crowning masterpiece Play Time (1967), his contempt for cars and Parisians gets its first voice here. Jour de fête is an auspicious beginning for a very distinctive and masterful filmmaker.

108708_frontThe Criterion two-disc set includes two alternate versions, a partly colorized 1964 version and the full-color 1995 rerelease version; “A L’americaine” (“American Style”), visual essays on the film by Tati expert Stéphane Goudet; Jour de fête: In Search of the Lost Color, a 1988 documentary on the restoration of the film to Tati’s original color vision; and the original trailer. The film is included in a box set, “The Complete Jacques Tati,” available in DVD and Blu-ray editions.

  • Kristina spoke:
    17th/11/2015 to 1:22 pm

    Good time to say I’m a faithful reader of your and Rod’s reviews, always enjoy and learn so much, and this was a great look at what made this movie and Tati so much fun. Thanks for joining us for this blogathon.

  • Marilyn spoke:
    17th/11/2015 to 1:47 pm

    Thanks for having it – I know what a lot of work it is. And don’t be a stranger. I’d love to have you and others comment more frequently.

  • Aaron West spoke:
    17th/11/2015 to 4:15 pm

    Love this! I’m a big fan of the film, although I saw the three big Tati Hulot pictures first, but there is something special about the “School for Postmen” character. I wish we could have seen more of him, not that I am complaining about Hulot. This film is so entertaining, especially that memorable surreal scene as you mentioned, but also all the little character moments. Like you, I didn’t like the color version, but the black and white is sublime.

    Thanks for contributing!

  • Marilyn spoke:
    17th/11/2015 to 4:30 pm

    Hi Aaron, and thanks for throwing the party. What I like about the color version is that it is what Tati wanted. Despite how bad the color is, it’s an indicator of what he wanted his cinema to be, and I find that very helpful in understanding his career. Hulot is a version of the postman, of course, but much less of a participant in his world, whereas the postman is quite at home in his village and an important part of it.

  • Silver Screenings spoke:
    17th/11/2015 to 5:31 pm

    I know this is going to be my new fave film when I have the chance to see it. I loves your synopsis and your reaction to the film. That personal reaction was quite vivid, and such a lovely tribute to this film and to Tati.

    Thanks for joining the blogathon, and bringing along Jour de fête!

  • Marilyn spoke:
    17th/11/2015 to 6:59 pm

    Hi “Silver” and thanks for giving so many of us the opportunity to review our favorite Criterion disks. And what could be more appropriate for a film party than a film about a village party!

  • Kelly spoke:
    18th/11/2015 to 5:12 pm

    So exciting to be introduced to so many new bloggers via this blogathon, and new films as well.

  • Marilyn spoke:
    19th/11/2015 to 8:57 am

    Welcome to the blog, Kelly. We have more than 1,000 posts for your reading enjoyment.

  • Sam Juliano spoke:
    22nd/11/2015 to 3:07 pm

    Yes, there can be no doubt Tati’s control ais astounding for a first effort. Who can indeed forget that brilliant American postal service segment you describe with such gleeful appreciation? The physical gags are in abundance, and in a career that achieved some truly great works, this one can only be fondly remembered and not at all diminished. Tati’s silent era propensities are here in full bloom.

    Wonderful review Marilyn. Little did you know when you took this assignment you would also be paying homage to the French nation through one of its most beloved icons. In this sense your review is even more moving.

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