PRESENTING SACHA GUITRY: THE ECLIPSE COLLECTION - DVD review

In one of my favorite episodes of "Blackadder," our acerbic hero (Rowan Atkinson) is trying to sell his house to Mr. and Mrs. Pants. His slick talk prompts the following exchange:

MR. PANTS: "You've really worked out your banter, haven't you?"

BLACKADDER: "No, not really. This is a different thing. It's spontaneous, and it's called wit."


That's the appeal of Sacha Guitry's cinema in one word: Wit. Whether he was born with it or cultivated it, Guitry was blessed with wit in spades. By the 1930s, Guitry was already a venerated playwright and theater performer in France so it's no surprise that he could turn a sharp phrase on page or on stage. But it's Guitry's remarkable adaptation to the medium of the motion picture that continues to astonish today.

Guitry initially turned to film, a medium he saw as a bastard child to the legitimate theater, as a commercial concession; it was the best way to bring his plays to a larger audience. You would expect him to simply turn the camera on his staged plays and produce filmed theater, which is what he did at first. But then that pesky wit kicked in, and Guitry not only embraced the visual possibilities of cinema, he practically squeezed the stuffing right out of them. Guitry produced some of the most experimental, innovative commercial films of the 1930s, movies that seem fresh and audacious even today.

In the liner notes included with the DVD, Michael Koresky describes "The Pearls of the Crown" (1937) as "history (turned) into a flip book." While watching it, I compared the film to a similar treat from my childhood: the Talking Viewmaster. Guitry tells the history of a set of pearls given to Catherine de Medici in the 16th century. Serving as on-screen narrator and playing multiple historical from King Francis I to Napoleon III, Guitry jumps back and forth not only through four centuries but also across multiple countries: England, France, and Italy primarily.

With so much ground to cover, Guitry paints plucks out moments of time and paints them as vivid dioramas, each one clicking into place after the other, showing us royal courts or exotic locales (a sidetrip to Abyssinia where the legendary Arletty plays the Queen is so delusional – and borderline racist by today's standards – it must be seen to be believed.) And if you'd rather click backwards to see the last tableau, don't worry. Guitry needs to backtrack too. His story is too convoluted to tell just once. And too damned enjoyable not to revisit as soon as it is told. History may be written by the victors, but it is only the best writers who make it fun.

"The Story of a Cheat" (1936) is framed as flashback with the now-elderly cheat of the title (Guitry, of course) writing his memoirs in a café and reflecting on his youth. Each flashback is accompanied with wall-to-wall narration, so relentless that it's sometimes frustrating for a non-French speaker to read the subtitles and keep an eye on the film. This all sounds like the recipe for a terribly literal-minded affair but you forget about that carving wit. Guitry creates a complexly layered, visually dazzling film that borders on the avant garde. Witness the opening sequence in which he relates the night that his entire family died of food poisoning. Counting them one by one, he whisks everyone except him away from the dinner table with the kind of jump cut that George Melies built his career out of. Poof! How else do you milk so much humor out of the death of your entire family? Sometimes using reversed footage and assembling elaborate montages, Guitry created an idiosyncratic aesthetic. He may not have been trying to reconfigure film language the way the French New Wave filmmakers did 25 years later, but there's a reason they embraced Guitry as a role model and a true auteur.

The other two films in the set are more straightforward. "Désiré" (1937) is no less entertaining, however. Guitry, known for his aristocratic roles, dresses down to play a valet recently dismissed by his last employer for certain, um, improprieties. His new employer (Jacqueline Delubac, Guitry's wife) agrees to hire up with equal parts trepidation and anticipation. Will she be the next target of his, um, impropriety? Guitry dazzles in the old fashioned way, with razor sharp writing and an assured performance distilled to a rare purity. With his constant shrugs and frequent use of grand arm gestures, he reminds me a bit of Jack Benny but as a caustic wit he's more Groucho. Arletty (hubba hubba) stars as the equally quick-witted maid.

"Quadrille" (1938) feels rather staid by comparison, and I wasn't particularly enamored of the story of casual infidelity. I hesitate to call it quintessentially French for fear of being branded an essentialist. Let's just say this American prude couldn't laugh off the various liaisons and constantly shifting affections as easily as the sophisticates in the film. The staging is somewhat leaden, mostly taking place in the Ritz Hotel in Paris, but once again Guitry casts his mental and verbal agility as the star attraction and succeeds more often than not.

It may or may not be spontaneous. But it's called wit. And when you've got it, you flaunt it. Guitry flaunted, and we get to reap the benefits.

VIDEO

Each of the films in the set is presented in its original 1.33:1 aspect ratio. The image is picture-boxed. The progressive transfers aren't restored but are generally solid. The main weakness in each is a slight softness in the image – detail is not as sharp as we are used to in Criterion's restored transfers but that's to be expected with Eclipse. Of the four films, "Quadrille" is the weakest, showing evidence of source damage throughout at the top center of the frame. It's only a mild distraction, however, and doesn't detract much from the film. There are other minor instances of source damage – one kitchen shot in "Désiré" is badly worn, for example – in the other films.

AUDIO

The films are presented in Dolby Digital Mono. There's not much to say about the audio quality. It's occasionally a bit tinny, but overall it only has minor distortion in a few spots.

EXTRAS

None excerpt for the excellent (as always) one-page liner notes by Michael Koresky included with each disc.

Each of the four films is stored in its own keep case. All four cases are tucked into a thin cardboard case as per usual for the Eclipse Collection.

FILM VALUE

I recently had the pleasure of watching Alain Resnais' latest film "Wild Grass" in a theater. From the first scene, I had a smile on my face that lasted until (and after) the last frame. I smiled not just because the film is funny (it is!) but because I knew I had settled into the hands of a master with complete control of his chosen medium. I had the same reaction to both "Story of a Cheat" and (probably my favorite of the set) "The Pearls of the Crown," both masterpieces that deserve a place of honor in any worthwhile canon. I enjoyed "Désiré" immensely too, thanks to the presence of both Guitry and Arletty who I am in love with. The sexcapades of "Quadrille" left me a bit cold, but the film still features some brilliant dialogue and pitch-perfect delivery by Guitry, surely one of the great comic actors of his generation.

Looking ahead on the Eclipse release schedule this year, I barely gave "Presenting Sacha Guitry" a second thought since I knew so little about the director. Instead, this Eclipse set has turned out to be one of the most pleasant surprises of the year. Highly recommended.