Too much of everything

Better Late Then Never

Wow! What a bizarre film! Unfortunately the few funny moments there were were quite overshadowed by it's completely weird and random vibe throughout.

It's simply great fun, a winsome film and an occasionally over-the-top luxury fantasy that never flags.

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.

Presuming that you have not yet seen it, here is a description.Henri-Georges was a remarkable filmmaker. Though contemporary with those normally tagged new wave, he was interested not in ideas but the effectiveness of cinema. His special talent was internal perturbations of reality. After a long period of silence, he embarked on his most ambitious project: a film about a jealous man, showing his torture through practically achieved cinematic effects.He got a huge budget from Hollywood and lavished it on the film, not on sets, costumes, actors. Much was shot, and then the thing unraveled, largely because of the filmmaker's own obsessions. Production halted.Later, in 2009, this film was made about the making of the previous one, weaving the movie and the making of the movie together. The format is superficially simple: we have seated interviews with people who were involved, while relevant footage runs behind them. We see much of that footage without the original sound, though some slight, small effects have been added. Most of the footage are strange optical experiments. Some is the action in "reality." We also, separately, have two contemporary actors reading the lines from the shooting script so at least we know the story such as it is.The result is remarkable. As collaborators, one after the other, testify to the growing madness of Clouzot, or apparent madness. Or perhaps genius. It is effective as a documentary, perhaps unique in its form. It merges fiction and non-fiction, story on story, folded so that it matters. The main actor walks off, the filmmaker has a heart attack, the lake on which filming occurs literally disappears. Trains come. Anxieties mount as loves and the obsession to create clash. We wonder about projects started but unseen from Welles, Hopper, Kurosawa. Like unimagined dreams we might reach, they perhaps have more power without us encountering them. Frankly, I never heard of this failed project before. I am grateful to have encountered it now, in this way.Unfortunately, you may find the optical effects strange, dated. They all are "real" in the sense of being generated according to physical laws and properties. These days, we normally denote the unreal by effects done virtually and supposedly unconstrained by reality. So the shock is reverse: the film we are examining (in black and white) is the fiction, while the madness within that film (in color) is real."You have to see the madness through," is the last line of this. Clouzot could not. Let's hope you, dear reader, do.Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

Documentaries rarely come more fascinating than this. Clouzot's lost masterpiece, abandoned when the director suffered a heart attack during the interminable shooting of it. The interviews with Catherine Allégret, Costa Gavras and other participants in Clouzot's project are informative, particularly on the subject of the experimental sound track and the innovations in use of film stock that turned water red. But it is the human drama, not the technological wizardry that fascinates here. Clouzot simply took on too much: writing, directing and producing, as well as overseeing all aspects of casting, music, art direction... The American studio gave him too much money and power for this project, and this almost destroyed him.Jacques Gamblin and Bérénice Bejo take over the parts Reggiani and Schneider played, and they flesh out the story well enough. (See Cluzet and Béart in Chabrol's remake for a really great experience.) I went to see the footage with Romy Schneider, and I wasn't disappointed. She was the most beautiful of European actresses, and Clouzot's camera adores her. Romy smoking, Romy with a blue tongue, Romy trussed naked on a train track, Romy being followed through the town by Reggiani. Rest assured, I will be getting the DVD.

'L'Enfer d'Henri Georges Clouzot' is one of those documentaries, like Fulton and Pepe's 'Lost in La Mancha,' about a movie that never got finished. This one concerns a film of 1964. Not a suspense thriller like the director's famous 'Wages of Fear' (1953) or 'Diabolique' (1955), which gained him art-house notoriety in the States and made him seem a French competitor of Hitchcock, or his earlier detective meller masterpiece 'Quai des Orfevres' (1947), 'Inferno' ('L'Enfer') was a psychological study of jealousy, with Serge Reggiani as stricken husband Marcel and the young, but already stellar, Romi Schneider as his too-pretty, flirtatious wife, Odette (references to Proust?). But things got too complicated and the movie never happened.In 1994, Claude Chabrol did his film of 'Inferno,' having purchased the script from Clouzot's widow, Inez. In both cases, the essence of the tale is that the hotel owner's suspicions lead to paranoid delusions that overpower him. But Chabrol represents one of the primary Cahiers du Cinema branch of the French Nouvelle Vague, which was at its peak during the period of Clouzot's ascendancy, but represented new, freer, more inventive ways of working in film.Clouzot on the contrary was old school, and was particularly noted for writing and story-boarding everything out ahead of time in the most scrupulous detail, as well as for working actors too hard. His 'Inferno' was to have been highly inventive in one respect, at least: he shot reams of experimental, "op-art" and prismatic lens shots, even creating "optical coitus" with spinning geometry and a zoom lens, as well as on-location reverse color images, planning visual equivalents of the Reggiani character's growing madness. The latest techniques were used, though the concept seems rather more like the surrealism of the Forties and Fifties than something new. Still, there's no way of knowing how well the film would have turned out. What is clear is that those experimental shoots took too long, and ate up funds as well as time. When it went beyond pure optical illusion in the studio and more and more required the participation of Reggiani and Schneider, the shooting, much of it extraneous to the script, began to strain the stars. Clouzot was a chronic insomniac and would wake crew members at two a.m. with new ideas. He made Reggiani spend an entire day running, shooting the same sequence over and over and exhausting him. Reggiani walked off the set, pleading a mysterious illness, and never came back. Jean-Louis Tritignant was called in to interview as a replacement, but that didn't work out. Shortly later Clouzot, then 56, had a heart attack. That was it. Clouzot only made one more film, La Prisonniere, and died in 1977, aged 70.Because the film wasn't finished, all the "preuves" were kept, and this film is interesting and unique for its lavish sampling of the experimental footage in which day-glo images spiral hypnotically or Marcek or his (imagined?) rival's faces merge, or Reggiani's or Schneider's faces are distorted as in a fun house. There's also detailed footage showing work to use color reversal to make the lake of the setting turn red when Marcel sees Odette water-skiing with Martineau (Jean-Claude Bercq), the local womanizer with whom she apparently has a fling.The trick as Bomberg, a specialist in cinematic history and film restoration, told it in a NYFF Q&A, was to get hold of the 185 cans of footage controlled by Clouzot's second wife, Inez. Getting caught in a stalled elevator for two hours with her convinced her that her experience with Bomberg was "special" enough to give him the rights she'd denied to many others, and she also passed the completed documentary, without cuts.The 'Inferno' footage is largely without sound, though there are test recordings of Reggiani uttering mad repetitious ravings as the wacked-out Marcel. Bomberg uses voice-overs to reconstruct some scenes of the film, and introduces five short scenes in which contemporary actors Berenice Bejo and Jacques Gamblin read from the script, to extrapolate.Though it's all a bit after-the-fact, and the value of the Clouzot film remains moot, the documentary has interviews with nine cast and crew members, including Catherine Allegret, then-production assistant Costa Gavras and assistant cinematographer William Lubtchansky. Details of the breakdown emerge, and it's due to Clouzot's employing three separate film crews unaware of each other's activities, and his endless re-shooting of simple sequences. As one talking head points out, the film might have gotten made if Clouzot hadn't been writer, director, and producer. A real producer might have speeded things up, thus saving everybody's nerves and the production.This is a glossy, beautifully crafted MK2 production and is a must-see for film buffs, particularly those interested in French cinema history. However as 'Variety' reviewer Todd McCarthy points out, important context is omitted in the failure to mention Clouzot's being out of commission throughout the Thirties in sanatoriums for mental problems. Maybe the widow wouldn't have wanted his lack of mental balance to be further discussed. McCarthy is also right that the dominant image you come away with is the radiant and obviously cooperative young Romi Schneider. Dany Carrel as "Marylou" is another pert sex kitten in the cast who shows off plenty for the camera. It's puzzling that in the Q&A the flamboyant but otherwise informative Bomberg (so chatty he who was reluctant to relinquish the mike both before and after the NYFF public screening), never once mentioned co-director Ruxandra Medrea. Anyway, this is a rich and evocative piece of cinematic documentation.Shown as part of the New York Film Festival at Lincoln Center 2009. Also featured at Cannes, Toronto, Vancouver, and the London Film Festival. To open in France November 11, 2009