JACQUES TATI STILL STANDS TALL

By Raymond Benson

How many people in the general public of the USA today know who Jacques Tati is? Film buffs, certainly, but not many others. It’s a shame, for in the 1950s and 60s, Tati was world famous and well known for his on-screen persona, the bumbling but well-meaning Monsieur Hulot. After all, one of the Hulot pictures, Mon Oncle, won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film of 1958. Jacques Tati was once a big deal. The Criterion Collection’s new release on Blu-ray of a boxed set containing Tati’s entire catalog should provide sufficient firepower to make Jacques Tati a big deal all over again.

In short, The Complete Jacques Tati is a magnificent package. The Frenchman’s genius is well documented, not only in the six feature films and seven shorts included in the set, but in the multitude of excellent extras—documentaries, vintage footage, and visual essays that Criterion has assembled. The collection could easily be one of the best Blu-ray releases the company—or any home video label—has ever done. It’s that good.

There are seven discs—one for each of the six features and one for the shorts. A 62-page booklet containing essays by critics James Quandt, Jonathan Rosenbaum, Kristin Ross, and David Cairns completes the package.

For those unfamiliar with the artist, Jacques Tati (1907-1982) was a comedian and mime who drew his influences from the old school—Keaton, Chaplin, Lloyd—and thus created a comic style highly dependent on visual sight gags. But what Tati did beyond the three silent film stars was incorporate the use of sound effects for humor. The features are full of odd and funny aural jokes—the thoink of a swinging door as it opens and closes, the ridiculous beeps and blurts of a machine, or the mumbling-style dialogue of eccentric characters (it doesn’t matter what they’re saying, it’s more about the sound of their speech). Tati made some shorts in the 1930s; after the war, he formed his own company with a fellow producer and began his journey into making movies. Tati, in his later works, liked to explore the theme of how “modern” technology is taking over a purer essence of life. Most of all, Tati himself, as an actor, is a wonderfully physical comedian. Just the way he appears as Mr. Hulot—with trademark hat, pipe, raincoat, and umbrella—is funny.

An entire book could be written about Tati’s work, herewith is a brief description of each of the films.

Jour de Fête (aka The Big Day), 1949. Tati’s first feature film is a disarming comedy in which the super-tall actor portrays a postman. Very different from the Mr. Hulot character, Tati’s postman is fussy, ornery, and prone to “lose it” when a traveling fair comes to town and messes up his route. It’s an affectionate look at French rural life. The 2K digital restoration is in black and white, as was the original theatrical release—however, Tati always meant for the picture to be in color. He therefore revisited the film later in order to make it so. Extras include two alternate versions of the film on the same disc—Tati’s own 1964 re-edit featuring hand-colored objects and newly incorporated footage, and a full-color 1995 re-release completed from Tati’s original color negatives. Stéphane Goudet, a Tati expert, presents a 2013 visual essay that tracks the evolution of Tati’s comedy. A 1988 documentary traces the restoration of the film to Tati’s color version.

Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday, 1953. Mr. Hulot is introduced in this charming look at how the French often took holidays at a seaside resort. Well-choreographed sight gags dominate the free-flowing, plotless narrative that features many odd characters, dogs, boats, and drooping taffy. The main version on the disk is a 2K digital restoration of Tati’s 1978 re-release. Extras include the original 1953 version; an introduction by Terry Jones; another visual essay by Stéphane Goudet about the debut of Hulot; an interview with Tati from 1978; a new interview with composer/critic Michel Chion on Tati’s use of sound design; and an optional English-language soundtrack for the re-release version.

Mon Oncle, 1958. Tati’s Oscar-winner could very well be his best work. This one, in color, is the story of how Mr. Hulot becomes the relative-of-choice for his young nephew, whose parents are too caught up in being “modern” (their house, car, automatic garage door, and that awful fish fountain) to properly pay attention to their son. The garden party sequence and the plastic hose factory scene are timeless. The new 2K digital restoration looks fabulous. Extras include another introduction by Terry Jones; My Uncle—the English language edit of the film; a documentary from 2008 on the making of the film; a 2005 program on the film’s fashion, architecture, and furniture; a Stéphane Goudet visual essay comparing the film to other Hulot pictures; and a 1977 French TV episode featuring Tati.

Playtime (also written as Play Time or PlayTime), 1967. What an amazing, highly original film! Francois Truffaut once said that Playtime is a movie that might have been made “on another planet where they don’t make films like we do here.” Hulot is one of many characters in this collage about the clash of modernity and humanity. At the time, it was France’s most expensive production—and all the money is there on the screen in the form of an entire downtown with streets, buildings, and traffic that Tati had built outside of Paris. “Tativille,” as it was known, is a remarkable accomplishment in set design. It forecasted the use of office cubicles at least ten years before they became a reality. Very funny stuff, but at the time audiences were confused by the lack of a story and the differences between it and previous Hulot features. Tati insisted on the film being released in 70mm; thus there is something going on in every corner and space on the frame. It’s a picture that demands to be viewed more than once. The new 4K digital restoration has a 3-0 DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack. Extras include another introduction by Terry Jones; three selected-scene commentaries; another Goudet visual essay; a 1967 TV program on Tativille; a 2002 documentary featuring behind-the-scenes footage; an interview with script supervisor Sylvette Baudrot; an audio interview with Tati from 1972; and an optional English-language soundtrack.

Trafic, 1971. The final Hulot film features the character working for an auto manufacturer whose employees must get its latest creation—designed by Hulot—to an auto trade show in Amsterdam on time. As the title suggests, they run into some traffic. Terrific sight gags abound, as well as Tati’s ever present discourse on how technology is ruining our world. Along with the 2K digital restoration, the extras include a 1976 Omnibus episode from British TV featuring an interview with Tati.

Parade, 1974. Tati’s final film does not feature Hulot. It’s actually a performance piece in front of an audience, in which Tati teamed up with a circus of clowns, jugglers, acrobats, and contortionists—but the great thing about it is that we can see Tati perform mime acts. The picture was originally made for Swedish television (!) and is a delightful cap to Tati’s career. The disk sports a 2K digital restoration, along with extras such as a two-part 1989 documentary on Tati’s life and career, made by the director’s daughter, Sophie Tatischeff; another Goudet visual essay about Tati’s appreciation of the circus and clowns; and a 1982 French TV episode featuring a tribute to Tati by his friend and set designer Jacques Lagrange.

Tati Shorts. 2K digital restorations of the following shorts are presented: On demande une brute (1934); Gai dimanche (1935); Soigne ton gauche (1936); L’école des facteurs (1946)—which features the postman character Tati played in Jour de Fête; Cours de soir (1967); Dégustation maison (1977); and Forza Bastia (1978). Tati wrote and starred in the first three. He wrote, directed and starred in the next two. The sixth short is a César-winning piece by Tati’s daughter; and the seventh is a soccer documentary started by Tati and completed by his daughter after his death. Extras include a 2002 short film about Tati’s career; and a lecture program by Goudet on Tati’s cinema.

It will take many hours to get through this marvelous set. The Criterion Collection has outdone itself with The Complete Jacques Tati, and any of you out there who is interested in the history of cinema must purchase it immediately. It will be an education.

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