Summary
In the Ardèche region of France in the 1880s, Marie Martin and her husband manage
a remote rural inn. For the past twenty years, they have made a habit of murdering
their guests for their money and personal possessions. One winter's night, the Martins
appear to be particularly well fated when a coachload of wealthy gentlefolk arrive at
their door. As they prepare to slaughter their latest guests, they receive another
unexpected visit - from a monk and his young novice, Jeannou. Marie feels obliged
to confess her crimes to the monk - which she does in gory detail, knowing that he is
bound by his vows never to betray her confidence. Panic-stricken, the
monk must find some way of alerting his fellow boarders to the gruesome fate which is
in store for them...
Review
With the success of Douce (1943),
Le Diable au corps
(1946) and Occupe-toi
d'Amélie (1949), Claude Autant-Lara established himself as one of France's
leading directors of quality films in the 1940s. His films not only won the approval
of the critics but most proved to be popular commercial successes. Here was a director
who had made his mark and was looking forward to a hugely successful film-making career.
What is perhaps most
striking in Autant-Lara's cinema is the combination of the apparently conventional with
the blatantly subversive. The fact that he chose to make provocative statements
within the cosy and familiar framework of traditional quality cinema gave his films a
particularly keen bite. The irony is that, in their day, Autant-Lara's films were
every bit as reactionary as those of the New Wave directors of the 1960s who would condemn
him for his adherence to the quality tradition.
Nowhere is Autant-Lara's rebellious streak most apparent than in
his 1951 comic tour de force, L'Auberge rouge. Through its central character
- a self-serving buffonish monk - the film satirises the idiosyncrasies and hypocrisies
of the Church. Whilst not an anti-religious film as such, it does take a great deal
of pleasure in laughing at the behaviours - not the beliefs - of religious folk.
Needless-to-say, the Catholic Church were not amused and, convinced the film was intended
as a direct attack on the Church, went to extraordinary lengths to trash the film.
The onslaught not only undermined the success of the film but, more significantly, it
tarnished the reputation of Autant-Lara and marked the start of the director's brutal
disaffection with both critics and the establishment. This perhaps explains
why Autant-Lara never became as respected as other directors of his talent and why his
films have been consistently underrated since.
L'Auberge rouge is
unquestionably one of Autant-Lara's best films, both hugely original and immensely entertaining.
It is a difficult film to classify, being an odd mix of conventional French farce, satire
and thriller, and is perhaps best summed up as being a black comedy. The film does
include some conventional elements (such as the traditional boy-meets-girl romance),
but by and large it is a curious affair. Indeed the main pleasure of the film is
its sheer unpredictability. Having broken most of the conventions in the first ten
minutes of the film, Autant-Lara manages to keep his audience on the edge of their seats
up until the final credits.
The script was written by Jean Aurenche and Pierre Bost,
a near-legendary partnership who served Autant-Lara well and who gave French cinema some
of its finest films. The film originally started out as an adaptation of one
of Honoré de Balzac's works, "L'auberge des Adrets" to celebrate the centenary
of the death of the writer, but the project fell through because of lack of finance.
A macabre Christmas tale was a much more marketable concept, and so Autant-Lara had far
less difficult finding a producer for L'Auberge rouge.
For what was conceived as a major production, Autant-Lara was more or less obliged to
cast at one least big-name actor. At the time, there were few names bigger than
Fernandel, a comic actor who, since the early 1930s, had become one of France's best-loved
and most highly paid film stars. Although he had appeared in around a hundred films,
Fernandel still had not gained a reputation as a 'serious' actor and was keen to work
with prestigious directors, such as Autant-Lara. Unfortunately, the actor's temperament
made it difficult for him to work well with such directors who, as a rule, were not inclined
to yield to his every whim. Autant-Lara was just such a director, and he had acquired
a reputation as someone who would not easily give up control to anyone, be that actor,
technician, or even producer. Such diametrically opposed personalities as Autant-Lara
and Fernandel would inevitably lead to conflict, and the experience left both individuals
bruised and somewhat bitter. Ironically, both benefited from the collaboration:
Autant-Lara made one of his best films, whilst Fernandel gave what many regard as the
actor's finest performance.
There were two other reasons why Fernandel may have found working on L'Auberge rouge
an uncomfortable experience. First, he had concerns over being out-staged by
his co-stars, Françoise Rosay and Julien Carette, both experienced actors with
a far longer track record in quality cinema. Certainly, Rosay and Carette are both
on top form in this film, savouring their villainous roles with a an almost chilling vigour,
but there is no doubt that Fernandel is the star of the film. Perhaps a bigger source
of anxiety for the actor was his antipathy towards the subject matter of the film.
A man of somewhat conservative tastes, Fernandel probably had some personable objections
to taking part in what could easily be construed as an assault on the Church. It
is noticeable that in the Don Camillo series (which he began immediately after this film).
Fernandel gives a far more positive, respectful portrayal of a religious man. That
is possibly how he had hoped to portray the monk in Autant-Lara's film.
L'Auberge rouge may not have been the great commercial success its producers might
have hoped for, but, in spite of the negative criticism heaped upon it, it was generally
well-received by the French cinema-going public. However, it is true that the over-the-top
reaction of some critics - supporting the Catholic Church's line - marred the film's standing,
to the extent that it has taken several decades for the film to acquire the reputation
of a great comedy classic which it so evidently deserves.
In contrast to many French comic films from the 1950s, L'Auberge rouge has lost
none of its punch and vitality. The jokes - both visual and spoken (and this
film has a fair mix of both) - still have the capacity to reduce a stone sober audience
to bouts of hysterical laughter. Fernandel's reaction when Françoise
Rosay calmly confesses that she has buried 102 guests in her garden is something that
has to be seen to be believed. And there is an unexpected bonus: the song
which accompanies the opening and closing credits is sung by none other than Yves Montand.
© James Travers 2003
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