Cinema is tough, there are probably thousands of projects that were as ambitious as "Citizen Kane" or "2001: A Space Odyssey", but we'll never know because they never made it to posterity and a loss can only be measured on the basis of its previous existence. Still, the chronicle of a failed project can be as insightful and inspirational as a success story. And this where begins "L'Enfer", the revolutionary masterpiece
Henri-George Clouzot never made.
Now, there is a man who nourishes an interest toward the oddest kind of movie: the lost ones. His name is Serge Bromberg, and I discovered him in the middle of the 90's when he hosted a TV cartoon show named "Cellulo", where I discovered "Flip the Frog" "La Linea" and the UPA cartoons. Now, Bromberg is the head of a firm named Lobster, specialized in the restoration of lost movies or those affected by the passing of time. And the facts are alarming: almost half the cinematic memory is lost.
But Bromberg managed to conquer kilometers of lost celluloid. Not only some old Keaton and Chaplin movies were found and restored, but also some old Hitchcock movies from the silent years and the early 30's. And for having discovered such gems as "Juno and the Paycock", "Downhill" or "Mary", I needed to start the review by giving Bromberg the credit he deserves, for a work that doesn't just apply to lost movies but also lost footage. And I just loved the way a simple phone call to Clouzot's widow lead to this great documentary. I won't spoil it but how she finally agreed with the project gives its full meaning to the notion of 'elevator pitch'.
And a few years after this encounter, images that have been shut from the public eye for four decades were finally shown, punctuated with interventions from the crew and the recreation of some scenes with Bérénice Béjo and Jacques Gamblin, replacing Romy Schneider and Serge Reggiani. And the enigma is less in the failure of the project than in Clouzot himself, the most classic and critically acclaimed French director whose "Quai des Orfevres", "Wages of Fear" and "Diaboliques", leveraged his reputation as a Master of Thrills, to the stature of Hitchcock.
And like Hitchcok, Clouzot was a craftsman whose directing relied on rigorous preparations and technical skills, and when improvisations and experimental creativity were the norm, Clouzot was perceived as old-school cinema. So ego-tickled Clouzot wanted to beat the New Wave surfers on their field, using 60's psychedelic visuals, electronic pop-music and so many unlikely choices from a director born with the century. Hitch said it better "self-plagiarizing is style" so in this statement, lies the early indicator of a predictable defeat.
Indeed, "L'Enfer" had everything to succeed: the director's reputation, distributions rights from Columbia Pictures, the stars, and the most devoted team of assistants but if a ship can navigate in the fog, it can't do without a compass. That the project would be interrupted after three weeks of filming should be a school-case for aspiring directors. Passion is crucial but you got to have a clear vision of your project. Clouzot was too busy to think of the 'effects'. It's called the 'dreamer' syndrome.
Indeed, Clouzot wanted to make a movie about a jealous husband and shows from his standpoint the obsession escalating until it culminates in mirror effects or use of colors and sound editing you would expect from a 60's directing student. The found footage of the film shows many of these tricks used on the face of Schneider and Reggiani, with the colors reminding of the use of psychedelic effects in Kubrick's "2001" but Clouzot got so wrapped up in his desire to make something new, that he forgot to make something substantial.
And Clouzot got so carried away by his own aesthetic ambitions that he spent countless hours of sheer experimentation, constantly delaying the production. For a scene where Reggiani watches his wife water-skiing, the blue of the lake had to turn into red to sustain the image of blood, but he couldn't reverse colors without affecting the skins and dress' colors, so he had to use make-up and dress in opposite colors to keep the effect believable, and everyone played the game, confident that this was going somewhere. Basically, the documentary chronicles the erosion of this confidence.
And it seems as Clouzot's assets: money, total control, independence acted as double-edged swords, alienating every day a little more, from the assistants, to the actors. Ironically, the material of the story could have garnered half the means and be shot in less than eight weeks, ironically again; films like "Quai des Orfèvres" or "Wages of Fear" that called for a more meticulous filmmaking were perfectly handled. Yet Clouzot's obsession for expressionist symbolism clouded his abilities, call it, delusions of grandeur, in the end, the Emperor wasn't naked, there was no Emperor at all.
I'm tough on Clouzot but let's take an example, Martin Scorsese, with much simpler effects, made the greatest portrayal of obsessive jealousy ever, the film was "Raging Bull", and it didn't rely on any chromatic stunt. Clouzot could have made a 'Raging Bull', but instead he chose the artistic way, giving such a rough ride to Reggiani he left the set calling him schizophrenic. By that time, the project was in agony until Clouzot's stroke put the final nail in the coffin. In 1968, Clouzot made "Woman in Chains", his final film with a more moderate (if not disconcerting) use of psychedelic effect, and a good one, but "L'Enfer" was dead.
And Bromberg's documentary is, like the autopsy, one that less revived the film than the soul of Clouzot (who died in 1977), as if the story of the making was more fascinating than the story itself, and Bromberg had the best way to summarize the spirit of his work, quoting "Liberty Valance", when reality becomes legend, print the legend.
Now, there is a man who nourishes an interest toward the oddest kind of movie: the lost ones. His name is Serge Bromberg, and I discovered him in the middle of the 90's when he hosted a TV cartoon show named "Cellulo", where I discovered "Flip the Frog" "La Linea" and the UPA cartoons. Now, Bromberg is the head of a firm named Lobster, specialized in the restoration of lost movies or those affected by the passing of time. And the facts are alarming: almost half the cinematic memory is lost.
But Bromberg managed to conquer kilometers of lost celluloid. Not only some old Keaton and Chaplin movies were found and restored, but also some old Hitchcock movies from the silent years and the early 30's. And for having discovered such gems as "Juno and the Paycock", "Downhill" or "Mary", I needed to start the review by giving Bromberg the credit he deserves, for a work that doesn't just apply to lost movies but also lost footage. And I just loved the way a simple phone call to Clouzot's widow lead to this great documentary. I won't spoil it but how she finally agreed with the project gives its full meaning to the notion of 'elevator pitch'.
And a few years after this encounter, images that have been shut from the public eye for four decades were finally shown, punctuated with interventions from the crew and the recreation of some scenes with Bérénice Béjo and Jacques Gamblin, replacing Romy Schneider and Serge Reggiani. And the enigma is less in the failure of the project than in Clouzot himself, the most classic and critically acclaimed French director whose "Quai des Orfevres", "Wages of Fear" and "Diaboliques", leveraged his reputation as a Master of Thrills, to the stature of Hitchcock.
And like Hitchcok, Clouzot was a craftsman whose directing relied on rigorous preparations and technical skills, and when improvisations and experimental creativity were the norm, Clouzot was perceived as old-school cinema. So ego-tickled Clouzot wanted to beat the New Wave surfers on their field, using 60's psychedelic visuals, electronic pop-music and so many unlikely choices from a director born with the century. Hitch said it better "self-plagiarizing is style" so in this statement, lies the early indicator of a predictable defeat.
Indeed, "L'Enfer" had everything to succeed: the director's reputation, distributions rights from Columbia Pictures, the stars, and the most devoted team of assistants but if a ship can navigate in the fog, it can't do without a compass. That the project would be interrupted after three weeks of filming should be a school-case for aspiring directors. Passion is crucial but you got to have a clear vision of your project. Clouzot was too busy to think of the 'effects'. It's called the 'dreamer' syndrome.
Indeed, Clouzot wanted to make a movie about a jealous husband and shows from his standpoint the obsession escalating until it culminates in mirror effects or use of colors and sound editing you would expect from a 60's directing student. The found footage of the film shows many of these tricks used on the face of Schneider and Reggiani, with the colors reminding of the use of psychedelic effects in Kubrick's "2001" but Clouzot got so wrapped up in his desire to make something new, that he forgot to make something substantial.
And Clouzot got so carried away by his own aesthetic ambitions that he spent countless hours of sheer experimentation, constantly delaying the production. For a scene where Reggiani watches his wife water-skiing, the blue of the lake had to turn into red to sustain the image of blood, but he couldn't reverse colors without affecting the skins and dress' colors, so he had to use make-up and dress in opposite colors to keep the effect believable, and everyone played the game, confident that this was going somewhere. Basically, the documentary chronicles the erosion of this confidence.
And it seems as Clouzot's assets: money, total control, independence acted as double-edged swords, alienating every day a little more, from the assistants, to the actors. Ironically, the material of the story could have garnered half the means and be shot in less than eight weeks, ironically again; films like "Quai des Orfèvres" or "Wages of Fear" that called for a more meticulous filmmaking were perfectly handled. Yet Clouzot's obsession for expressionist symbolism clouded his abilities, call it, delusions of grandeur, in the end, the Emperor wasn't naked, there was no Emperor at all.
I'm tough on Clouzot but let's take an example, Martin Scorsese, with much simpler effects, made the greatest portrayal of obsessive jealousy ever, the film was "Raging Bull", and it didn't rely on any chromatic stunt. Clouzot could have made a 'Raging Bull', but instead he chose the artistic way, giving such a rough ride to Reggiani he left the set calling him schizophrenic. By that time, the project was in agony until Clouzot's stroke put the final nail in the coffin. In 1968, Clouzot made "Woman in Chains", his final film with a more moderate (if not disconcerting) use of psychedelic effect, and a good one, but "L'Enfer" was dead.
And Bromberg's documentary is, like the autopsy, one that less revived the film than the soul of Clouzot (who died in 1977), as if the story of the making was more fascinating than the story itself, and Bromberg had the best way to summarize the spirit of his work, quoting "Liberty Valance", when reality becomes legend, print the legend.