Films
in Focus
By
Christine
Les
vacances de Monsieur Hulot (Mr.
Hulot’s Holiday) (Discina, 1953) – Director: Jacques
Tati. Writers: Henri Marquet (s/p, dialogue), Jacques Tati (s/p,
dialogue, story), Jacques Lagrange (s/p, uncredited), Pierre Aubert
(s/p, uncredited). Cast: Jacques Tati, Nathalie Pascaud, Louis
Perrault, Andre Dubois, Lucien Fregis, Raymond Carl, Micheline Rolla,
Valentine Camax, Marguerite Gérard, René Lacourt & Suzy Willy.
B&W, 83 minutes.
Every
film buff I have known has a special film.
I’m
not taking about a favorite film, for there are usually more than one
of them. But a special film, one that they look back upon with a
loving remembrance, for it came along at a special time in their
lives, or is remembered from an especially nostalgic time, say
childhood, when they first watched it at a young age with their
parents in the comfortable cocoon of the family, and it has had a
magical effect on them since then.
For
me, that special film is Les vacancies de Monsieur Hulot.
It was the film my husband took me to see on our first date, and
where I not only fell in love with him, but also knew that I would
marry him.
On
each anniversary, we would look to find a theater running the movie,
after which we had dinner. Then videotapes came along. We would go
out to an early dinner, then come home and watch the movie.
When
our children were growing up, we exposed them to the joys of the
film. They weren’t as enthusiastic as we were, of course. When they
got older we began spending large parts of our annual summer
vacations at Saint Marc-sur-mer (St. Marc by the Sea), where the
movie was filmed. While they could never be said to be big fans of
the movie, they were big fans of St. Marc, as the beach was
wonderful. For them, it was paradise and their saddest day was when
we packed to leave. Were it up to them, we would never have left.
It’s
easy to be drawn to a film such as this, as much of the French
moviegoing public was when the film was released. The reason for its
popularity, besides the harmless antics of Mr. Hulot, is that Jacques
Tati had his finger firmly on the pulse of French culture and its
obsession with the summer vacation, which occurs every August.
As
France returned to normality after the years of occupation during the
war, the summer vacation regained its central position with a
vengeance. The postwar economic recovery had bestowed more largesse
on more people, and while class and political distinctions were not
entirely erased, more people were able to partake of and enjoy a
vacation.
Mr.
Hulot’s Holiday is the film in which Tati introduced his
most famous and enduring character, Mr. Hulot, to the public. It has
no plot as such, which allows Tati to draw the humor from everyday
circumstances, as the film perfectly captures the seemingly endless
drifting of a childhood vacation because there is nothing outside to
tie it all together. Mr. Hulot’s Holiday is a
series of vignettes set over the course of a week at a beach resort
with the only “beginning” and “end” being in the sense that
the film starts with the guests arriving and finishes with them
leaving. Tati’s film is a satire, a gentle poke at the newly
emerging middle class who are so immersed in getting there that they
find themselves trapped in their conventions and rigid social roles
to the point that they forget how to relax and have a good time. By
unfolding the film in a series of vignettes and using as little
spoken dialogue as possible, Tati comes across more as an observer
than as an active participant.
Though
it has the look of improvisation, each scene has been meticulously
planned. When Tati made this film in 1953, the summer vacation had
not yet become the institution it is now in France. Workers had only
two weeks holiday. Because not many owned cars at the time, they were
reliant on mass transportation. Thus, the vacation spot had to be a
place they could reach fast and return from just as quickly. For most
Parisians, the most popular places were Normandy and the Brittany
shore, which was where Mr. Hulot’s Holiday was
filmed. Saint Marc-sur-mer had the reputation at the time of being an
affordable place to spend a holiday, and as such, was crowded every
summer season.
And
for those who were city bound because they could not afford to take a
vacation, the film did just that for them and at the same time showed
them what they were not missing.
One
reason for the film’s magical effect on viewers is that it was
actually shot in the resort town of Saint Marc-sur-mer. The hotel is
a real one, though its entrance was constructed by the film’s crew
so as not to disturb things too much. The restaurant scenes were
filmed in a studio in Paris.
Les
vacancies opens with a shot of an empty seashore as the
opening credits roll. We hear the sound of the waves crashing onto
the beach to the accompanying sounds of Alain Romans’ 1952 cool
jazz theme, “Quel temps fait-il à Paris” (“What’s the
weather in Paris?”). The music will be the film’s motif,
providing a comforting feeling. Tati swiftly cuts to a crowded train
station where passengers are being misdirected from one platform to
another by the barely legible instructions emanating from a
loudspeaker. As the train arrives, it’s packed with other
vacationers and the crowd has to scramble to find seating or standing
room. A lovely young lady is able to board; we will later get to know
her as Martine (Pascaud), and she will become one of the guests the
camera follows throughout the film.
As
the train speeds along the countryside, we are treated to the sight
of a strange car navigating its way along the country road. Inside
the car is Mr. Hulot. Though many French citizens drove such a
vehicle in the postwar years, by the time Tati was filming this
movie, these cars had become fewer and fewer. The choice of Hulot’s
car distinguishes him immediately; he is a square peg among the round
holes.
As
Hulot putts along, bigger cars speed by, at one point raising such a
cloud of dust as to force Hulot off the road. As he drives through a
small town, the cobblestone street causes his car to shake and rattle
so much we fear it will fall apart. A quick sight gag in the town
involves a dog that likes to lie in the street. The bigger cars stop
and blow their horns impatiently until the dog leaves. But when Hulot
comes by he stops and squeezes the taxi horn on the side of his car,
causing the dog to rise and come over to greet the driver. Hulot pats
the dog and appears to give him a treat before going on his way,
giving us the feeling that he’s genuinely sorry for having
disturbed the dog. He’s in no hurry; he knows he’ll eventually
get there.
Hulot’s
arrival at the hotel is marked by his car backfiring with gears
grinding. Children run to see what’s making all that noise and
upsetting the tranquility of the beach. When Hulot gets out of the
car, we get to soak in Tati’s mise-en-scene by
observing the picture postcard setting of the hotel and surrounding
beach. Hulot enters the hotel to check in, inadvertently leaving the
front door open, through which a gust of wind comes through,
disrupting everything in the parlor – a sure signal to us that not
only has Hulot arrived, but also a hint of what his presence
portends.
Hulot
is an exaggerated character. Tall and thin, clad in a poplin coat and
crumpled hat, striped socks, trousers which are clearly too short,
carrying a rolled umbrella, and a pipe firmly clenched between his
teeth, Hulot makes an awkward, yet hilarious figure, topped off with
his odd stiff-legged gait. His actions are exaggerated, from his walk
to his stance, to the way he serves a tennis or ping pong ball, and
even to the people he meets. He is polite to everyone and always
offers assistance, even if it is not requested. Hulot is so overly
polite that when the announcer on the radio in the hotel’s lounge
says “Good night, everybody!” he bows and doffs his hat.
If
Hulot seems like a mime, there is good reason. Tati began his career
in show business as a mime and toured Paris music halls displaying
his talents in acrobatics, impersonations and comic drunken waiter
and tennis player sketches. His tennis antics later in the film are
directly lifted from his music hall days. He also worked as a bit
player in movies, which whetted his appetite for feature films after
the war.
There
are few close-ups in the film, which is intentional, for close-ups
tend to divide a film into stars and supporting players, and Tati
wanted to show the totality of the holiday experience; he wants us to
see it conceived as a whole, not in parts. His use of medium and long
shots instead was specifically to focus our attention on the human
comedy that results when people interact and to emphasize that he,
along with us in the audience, are observers. The many visual gags
Tati employs in the course of the film are designed with just that in
mind.
At
first the camera sticks by the hotel, slowly venturing out onto the
beach. Later, it will move further about, capturing the life of the
vacationers, mimicking what vacationers do on their holidays: at
first sticking close to base, then as the vacation wears on and they
become more familiar with their surroundings, venturing forth into
other areas. Our guide for these excursions will be Hulot himself.
Though he is always around, he is the man nobody quite sees. His
fellow vacationers live compartmentalized lives, wrapped up in their
own worlds, with their companions and plans. They notice Hulot only
when something happens to upset their worlds, as it usually does when
he’s around. His spontaneity, which can be seen in his gestures
(such as his tennis serves both on the court and later while playing
ping pong at the hotel), gives him an almost foreign quality
unsettling to those hidebound by routine. We see by his gentlemanly
manner and politeness that he wants to conform, to accept their
unspoken etiquette, but time and again he involuntarily disrupts
their rigid protocol.
The
film eschews dialogue, effectively transforming it into part of the
background noise and limiting it only to a few spoken lines, mainly
to satirize the silly, pointless things people say to one another.
Hulot himself remains a silent character; his dialogue limited to few
words (except to state and spell his name when he checks in). What
little dialogue there is between the other characters is simple and
infrequent enough that even those who do not speak French can
understand the gist without recourse to subtitles. To use dialogue
would make for a different film, causing Hulot’s character to adapt
accordingly and lose the magic he achieves by making him an active
participant instead of a bemused observer. Tati uses these few spoken
lines to underline moods and situations, things that by themselves
can’t be put into words. In this way, along with the wide-angle
shots, Tati is able to say much more than dialogue would allow, and
enables us to see the entire situation instead of having it
interpreted through the prism of words.
In
addition to words, sounds also have a place in Hulot’s world. He
arrives at the hotel restaurant to the constant “thunk” the door
makes each time it is opened. Hulot is seated near the door, along
with what we can surmise are other single men. Does he complain about
the door? No, it is part of his world. There is also the bell just
outside the hotel’s entrance, which is rung to signify lunch and
dinner. The vacationers, upon hearing the bell, drop whatever they
are doing and line up to enter the restaurant, unable to break from
their routine, even on vacation. The same is true of “Mr. Schmutz”
(German for “dirt”), a businessman who is being constantly called
to the hotel lobby to answer the telephone. Each time we hear it ring
we know it’s for him and we wonder why he even took his family on
vacation. When his family poses for a group picture in front of the
hotel, he has to pause to answer the phone. Even the sound of a radio
is used to good effect for the hotel guests: the end of the broadcast
day signals their bedtime.
The
humor in the film follows from Hulot’s interactions with his fellow
vacationers, who represent the kind that we have come across
ourselves during the course of many vacations. Tati doesn’t make a
big point of establishing characters, but we gradually come to
recognize them. There’s the older couple who seemingly
camp out in the hotel’s restaurant, looking at life going on
outside the window. The bored, mischievous young boy, busy trying to
set fire to the beach dressing tents with his magnifying glass. The
army officer who constantly regales his companions with tales of his
military career. A young intellectual spouting meaningless Marxist
analysis to anyone unfortunate enough to sit next to him. An older
wandering couple on the beach with the wife finding interesting sea
shells and handing them to her husband, who throws them away when she
isn’t looking. We also have a stuffy waiter (Carl) constantly
mouthing complaints to himself and obsessed with trying to catch
Hulot at something. Tati takes these outwardly clichéd familiar
“types,” and presents them to comic effect, transforming the
bland and rude into the genial, which makes his disruption of their
ordered worlds all the more enjoyable.
Perhaps
no other scene more emphasizes the gulf between Hulot and the other
vacationers than when the daily newspapers arrive. People surround
the vendor, hungry for news of civilization. Hulot also buys a
newspaper, but ignores its contents, instead folding its pages into a
silly cap he later wears during his tennis match.
Of
the other characters we see throughout the film, one does stand out,
the lovely blonde Martine. At first she seems to be vacationing by
herself, but later her aunt (Rolla) arrives, complaining about the
delays she experienced getting there. Hulot, ever the eligible
bachelor, seems taken with her, but her reaction is one of
bewilderment as she sizes him up. Though she keeps him at arms length
throughout the film, she is still attracted to him, not because he is
particularly good looking, but because she senses he is different
from the rest. She strikes us as someone who herself wants to break
away, perhaps feeling too penned in during a time when she should be
able to let loose a little. Maybe that is why she plays tennis with
him and agrees to go horseback riding, though the event ends in a
disaster of slapstick for Hulot as his horse proves an unwilling
partner.
Throughout
it all, Tati wants to make sure that it’s Mr. Hulot we laugh at,
designing his gags to emphasize the disruption Hulot causes. In one
scene, a man stands on the beach next to his boat, painting its name
onto the hull. Suddenly the locked winch is released, and the trailer
slips into the ocean. The painter’s brush, though, remains
stationary, with the result that a long, brushstroke is painted
across the ship’s front. The owner asks those nearby if they are
responsible. They answer in the negative. As a crowd gathers and
leaves, we see Hulot nervously standing in front of a post using his
towel to dry his back, unaware that the towel is itself wrapped
around the post, not touching him. He pulls it back and forth to dry
himself, down his back, to his bottom and then feet, but the towel
never touches his body. Nevertheless, Hulot continues, his eyes
shifting from the man and looking out into space. A jogger doing
stretching exercises while running by. Hulot follows him, copying the
man’s motions. Once out of sight, he runs away and ducks behind a
tent, clearly the cause of the mishap.
Tati’s
gags are made funnier because they are rooted in the reality of the
situation, but there are times when he rejects the easy gag. He
wants us to laugh, but he also wants something more. For instance, we
see a little boy buying two ice cream cones from the
vendor. Carrying both cones he ascends the stairs to the hotel where
he comes to a door. He has to reach up and turn the handle 180
degrees to enter, which would turn one cone upside down. We cringe as
we anticipate the young boy’s trauma when the cone spills out the
ice cream. But Tati surprises us, the ice cream cone defies gravity
and stays in place. Our tension is broken as he walks to the
ballroom, hands the cone to a friend, and we observe them happily
munching on their treats as they watch the room being prepared for a
masked ball that will take place.
One
of the best scenes in the film comes as an anti-climax of sorts. We
saw earlier that the hotel has posted notices for an upcoming masked
ball. As we read the poster we begin to wonder what Hulot is going to
do to upset this event. But then we are surprised when we discover
that the only people to dress for the occasion are Hulot, Martine,
and a few children. Everyone else is in the lounge listening to a
politician blather on over the radio. From the snatches of sound we
hear that the politician is speaking in cliches. Hulot plays “Quel
temps fait-il à Paris” on the record player and invites Martine to
dance. They dance alone, shut off in the room while through the glass
we see the other guests intently listening to the radio. Hulot turns
up the volume on the record player to drown out the politician.
The
last night of vacation finds Hulot being chased by a small dog. He
runs into a shed to escape. Lighting a match to get his bearings, he
inadvertently ignites the fireworks stored there, which blaze forth
and awaken everyone in the hotel.
The
holiday comes to a bittersweet end, with people shaking each other’s
hand, collecting addresses and promising to stay in touch. The man
(Lacourt) of the old strolling couple seeks out Hulot, who is playing
with a couple of children in the sand, and makes it a point to shake
his hand, telling him how much he enjoyed himself and asking if Hulot
will return the next year. When Hulot answers that he will, the man
is thrilled; he has been enjoying himself vicariously through Hulot
during the entire stay. As everyone leaves, Hulot’s car is the last
to drive off and the film ends with it’s only color insert – a
red stamp marked with the location from where the postcard was sent.
We know however, that the vacationers will meet again the next
summer.
Mr. Hulot’s
Holiday is a film that subtly, yet completely, captures our
nostalgia for happy days gone by. It’s about nothing more
complicated than our desire to get away for a few days of play,
breathing in the refreshing sea air and not having to worry about
what tomorrow will bring. That’s the hope that animates all
vacations and makes their ending so much the sadder. And yet, when we
watch it again, it’s like going on vacation once more. The same
place is there along with the same people. Therein lies the real
beauty of the film: it’s as though we could come back again. That’s
what gives the movie its special appeal.
As for myself, after
my retirement, our family took up roots and moved from Paris to the
town where Hulot worked his magic. We still find it magical every
day, no matter what the weather is in Paris.
NOTES: Next
to Tati, the character most noticed by viewers is the beautiful
Nathalie Pascaud. She has an interesting backstory. Born Jacqueline
Schillio, she and her businessman husband were friends of Tati. Tati
cast her as Martine, and to overcome any resistance her husband might
have to her participation, he cast him as Mr. Schmutz, the
telephone-bound businessman. Not being a professional actress, her
only other credit is Le temps des copains (Time
Buddies), a 1963 film adaptation of a television series about
three young men in Paris that ran from 1961 to 1962.
Shooting on the film
began in July 1951 and was supposed to end in September, but that
August was cold, rainy and gray on the Brittany shore and the
production finally wrapped in October. Sand was a particular problem,
getting into the camera, ruining the film and necessitating retakes.
Although the car Mr.
Hulot drives looks as if it was cobbled together especially for the
film, it is an actual car. To be specific, it’s a 1924 Amilcar,
made by a company that existed from 1921 to 1940. They made passenger
cars but later specialized in racing cars.
