Tuesday 12 December 2017

Jean de Florette/Manon des Sources, French Film Festival, Filmhouse

A rare, and irresistible, chance to see this two part adaptation of Marcel Pagnon's novel back to back on the big screen.  And still very much a classic when seen again.

Part 1, Jean de Florette, is set shortly after the end the end of World war 1, in a small Provencal farming community.  Ugolin Soubeyran (Daniel Auteuil), a simple minded soul, returns from the army with a plan, which he sets about demonstrating to his avaricious uncle Cesar (Yves Montand) - growing carnations for the market.  Having demonstrated the feasibility to Cesar's satisfaction, his uncle has to point out one obvious problem - carnations require  large supply of water, and Ugolin only has a slow filling well on his land.  There is, however, and unused spring on a neighbouring property, ideal for their needs.  The owner won't sell, but the determined Soubeyrans settle in for the long game.

When their neighbour dies, with no obvious inheritor, the flower kings see their opportunity, and block up the spring to help dissuade any buyers, but are foiled when the owner's nephew Jean (Gerard Depardieu) decides to take up residence with wife Aimee and young daughter Manon.  He has big plans for raising rabbits, all based on scientific theory he gets from books.  Initially successful, he is befriended by Ugolin who provides 'helpful' advice, Cesar convinced that their time will yet come.

Finally the lack of water tells against Jean, and he is killed in an explosion when he tries to blow open a well (at the wrong spot).  Cesar can purchase the farm for a knock down price, and he and Ugolin rush to unblock the spring which will help them to realise their fortune.  But Manon is on hand to see exactly what they are up to.

Part 2 is set ten years on.  Ugolin is a successful carnation grower, Aimee has moved back the city, but Manon (Emmanuelle Beart) remains, shepherding her goats and living a simple and often solitary life, still nursing her hatred of the Souberyans.  Overhearing a conversation, she learns that the villagers knew of the plot by Cesar, but did nothing, the locals always taking the side of one of their own.  Meanwhile Ugolin has spotted the grown up Manon and fallen obsessively in love with her.  She, unsurprisingly, will have nothing to do with the man who she holds responsible for the death of her father.

Manon comes across the source of the spring which feeds the village (and the Soubeyran property) and blocks it up, an act of revenge for the wrongs of the past.  The superstitious villagers believe it is a divine intervention for the crimes committed against Jean and Ugolin is driven to hang himself.  Cesar is left to mourn the death of the family line, while Manon settles down happily with the village schoolteacher.

In a final twist Cesar learns that Jean was his own son, born  to the love of his life (Florette) who had left him after a letter between them went missing.  He dies, leaving everything to his granddaughter, Manon.

Set in the microcosm of a small community, and their small minded provincialism, the films explore elemental human themes.  Jean's naive, enthusiastic optimism versus the cynical traditionalism of the locals.  Good versus evil, the revenge motive, bonds of family, love and hatred.  Set in a beautiful landscape and shot with an obvious feel for the land itself and a sense of the loneliness of the lives lived there.

In among a host of strong performances it's Auteuil's Ugolin that stands out in JdF, his mixture of simplicity and cunning, avarice and emotion creating a fully rounded character who can stir both our sympathies and dislike.  He remains a strong force in the second movie, but it's Beart's performance that steals the show.  With few lines to deliver, she still forces herself upon the screen, wild, vulnerable, intent upon avenging her father, and a source of endless fascination.

Thirty years on the pair remain compelling viewing, taking the audience into a world long since gone, but meeting human beings who are all too like ourselves.