"Concerto de l'aube" is a short that you are likely not to have seen. Nothing could be more normal since as it does not bear the signature of a great name (its directors, Roger Ferret and Yves Prigent, are even outright unknown to the general public), it has never been reissued. It's a pity because this little film is full of qualities.
As a documentary first. On a simple but not poetry-free theme (the end of the night and the break of dawn in a large city - Paris in this case), the filmmakers offer interesting views of the activities of men already or still at work (courier workers or printers, employees of a press agency, porters at the Les Halles covered market, bartenders, fishermen on the Seine, garbage collectors etc.) Animals (dogs rummaging in garbage cans, cats, mice) are nor forgotten nor are the attributes of the modern world (including many illuminated signs). There are also views of places which are, whether ugly, plain or beautiful in themselves, rendered artistic through elaborate chiaroscuro or fog effects, this dialectic of light and shadow finding its resolution in the final shot, with the arrival of the sun consecrating the triumphant day.
We are a little in Doisneau's world and a lot in Jacques Dutronc's "Paris s'éveille". The 1960's are beginning and having been shot at that precise time makes "Concerto de l'aube" a good witness to the evolution of society during the early Glorious Thirties, the modernity (illuminated advertising, Orly, a high-rise apartment block, etc.) being already present but without having eradicated the past (workers who go to their factory by bicycle, the miserable habitat of the post-war era).
Would « Concerto de l'aube » be just that, it would be an excellent documentary but this atypical work is more than that. The difference lies in the fact that the purely documentary part is coupled with a human drama. The shots of the city's activity at the end of the night are indeed regularly interspersed with a sequence in which a man appears. And this man and place are far from insignificant place : the man is an inmate and the place a cell in the death row.. As a result, the mere documentary acquires a new and much greater dimension. Everything we see now acquires a more dramatic meaning: yes, it is the end of the night, yes the day will come, but if for other men dawn means the beginning of a day's work, for him it marks the end of his life. A kind of visual counterpoint that constantly puts you in a state of confusion (should we rejoice or regret that the day is beginning?) that makes this uncommon little film poignant.
The third and final quality that makes this visual poem remarkable is the music that accompanies it, a very beautiful concerto (hence the title) by Michel Magne, far from his muzak for Gaumont's commercial films. Just as the film does with images, Magne's composition unites the elegiac and the pathetic in one embrace.
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The whole thing is an inspired work that should urgently be made known, for example by offering it as a bonus to DVD of a great French 1960 film.
"Concerto de l'aube" is a short that you are likely not to have seen. Nothing could be more normal since as it does not bear the signature of a great name (its directors, Roger Ferret and Yves Prigent, are even outright unknown to the general public), it has never been reissued. It's a pity because this little film is full of qualities. As a documentary first. On a simple but not poetry-free theme (the end of the night and the break of dawn in a large city - Paris in this case), the filmmakers offer interesting views of the activities of men already or still at work (courier workers or printers, employees of a press agency, porters at the Les Halles covered market, bartenders, fishermen on the Seine, garbage collectors etc.) Animals (dogs rummaging in garbage cans, cats, mice) are nor forgotten nor are the attributes of the modern world (including many illuminated signs). There are also views of places which are, whether ugly, plain or beautiful in themselves, rendered artistic through elaborate chiaroscuro or fog effects, this dialectic of light and shadow finding its resolution in the final shot, with the arrival of the sun consecrating the triumphant day. We are a little in Doisneau's world and a lot in Jacques Dutronc's "Paris s'éveille". The 1960's are beginning and having been shot at that precise time makes "Concerto de l'aube" a good witness to the evolution of society during the early Glorious Thirties, the modernity (illuminated advertising, Orly, a HLM bar, etc.) being already present but without having eradicated the past (workers who go to their factory by bicycle, the miserable habitat of the post-war era). Would « Concerto de l'aube » be just that, it would be an excellent documentary but this atypical work is more than that. The difference lies in the fact that the purely documentary part is coupled with a human drama. The shots of the city's activity at the end of the night are indeed regularly interspersed with a sequence in which a man appears. And this man and place are far from insignificant place : the man is an inmate and the place a cell in the death row.. As a result, the mere documentary acquires a new and much greater dimension. Everything we see now acquires a more dramatic meaning: yes, it is the end of the night, yes the day will come, but if for other men dawn means the beginning of a day's work, for him it marks the end of his life. A kind of visual counterpoint that constantly puts you in a state of confusion (should we rejoice or regret that the day is beginning?) that makes this uncommon little film poignant. The third and final quality that makes this visual poem remarkable is the music that accompanies it, a very beautiful concerto (hence the title) by Michel Magne, far from his muzak for Gaumont's commercial films. Just as the film does with images, Magne's composition unites the elegiac and the pathetic in one embrace. . The whole thing is an inspired work that should urgently be made known, for example by offering it as a bonus to DVD of a great French 1960 film.
"Concerto de l'aube" is a short that you are likely not to have seen. Nothing could be more normal since as it does not bear the signature of a great name (its directors, Roger Ferret and Yves Prigent, are even outright unknown to the general public), it has never been reissued. It's a pity because this little film is full of qualities. As a documentary first. On a simple but not poetry-free theme (the end of the night and the break of dawn in a large city - Paris in this case), the filmmakers offer interesting views of the activities of men already or still at work (courier workers or printers, employees of a press agency, porters at the Les Halles covered market, bartenders, fishermen on the Seine, garbage collectors etc.) Animals (dogs rummaging in garbage cans, cats, mice) are nor forgotten nor are the attributes of the modern world (including many illuminated signs). There are also views of places which are, whether ugly, plain or beautiful in themselves, rendered artistic through elaborate chiaroscuro or fog effects, this dialectic of light and shadow finding its resolution in the final shot, with the arrival of the sun consecrating the triumphant day. We are a little in Doisneau's world and a lot in Jacques Dutronc's "Paris s'éveille". The 1960's are beginning and having been shot at that precise time makes "Concerto de l'aube" a good witness to the evolution of society during the early Glorious Thirties, the modernity (illuminated advertising, Orly, a HLM bar, etc.) being already present but without having eradicated the past (workers who go to their factory by bicycle, the miserable habitat of the post-war era). Would « Concerto de l'aube » be just that, it would be an excellent documentary but this atypical work is more than that. The difference lies in the fact that the purely documentary part is coupled with a human drama. The shots of the city's activity at the end of the night are indeed regularly interspersed with a sequence in which a man appears. And this man and place are far from insignificant place : the man is an inmate and the place a cell in the death row.. As a result, the mere documentary acquires a new and much greater dimension. Everything we see now acquires a more dramatic meaning: yes, it is the end of the night, yes the day will come, but if for other men dawn means the beginning of a day's work, for him it marks the end of his life. A kind of visual counterpoint that constantly puts you in a state of confusion (should we rejoice or regret that the day is beginning?) that makes this uncommon little film poignant. The third and final quality that makes this visual poem remarkable is the music that accompanies it, a very beautiful concerto (hence the title) by Michel Magne, far from his muzak for Gaumont's commercial films. Just as the film does with images, Magne's composition unites the elegiac and the pathetic in one embrace. . The whole thing is an inspired work that should urgently be made known, for example by offering it as a bonus to DVD of a great French 1960 film.