The Essential Jacques Tati Blu-Ray Collection.
Jour De Fete (1949.) / Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot (1953) / Mon Oncle (1958) / Playtime (1967) / Trafic (1971.) / Parade (1974.)/ Les Courts Metrages, a collection of 7 short films (1935 – 1978.)
Slapstick is simultaneously the highest and lowest form of wit. It runs the gamut from fat old ladies slipping off trampolines on You've Been Framed to the front of a house falling around an oblivious and unconcerned Buster Keaton in Steamboat Bill Jr. It embraces the very worst in human nature and elevates it to high grace, which is why I think a great physical comedian is a little more of a treasure than a master of verbal wit: I'd take Laurel and Hardy over Groucho Marx.
The promotional material for StudioCanal beautifully assembled collection of French comic Jacques Tati's work includes a quote from Buster Keaton, “Tati began where we left off,” and who am I to disagree. It's just that when you get hold of the complete works of such a revered comedian, you might reasonably expect to be rolling around in laughter, but such coarse enjoyment is not the aim here. Jacques Tati is a perverse figure, a master comic performer and creator without much of a sense of humour.
Tati has a lot in common with the tyros of the Nouvelle Vague who took the tropes and traditions of US crime pulp fiction and took the fun out of them. Tati did something similar to the ideas of the silent era clowns, refining their work and, rather audaciously, deciding that he would use it to direct audience in directions other than hilarity. It's a choice that I have struggled greatly with over the years. I remember a mystified cinema trip to see a Sunday matinee of Mon Oncle; falling asleep half an hour into Playtime.
Watching this 7 disc box set it has slowly clicked with me. He makes you wait for the jokes but if you have the patience, when the laughter comes – and it may only be five or six times in a movie – it is a joyous sweep of satisfaction. The film making in Mon Oncle and Playtime is immaculate, on a par with the great film visionaries. Sometimes comedy doesn't require laughter – at its best Jacques Tati is a dream of the possibility of cinema.
The Box Set.
StudioCanal's presentation of his works is both loving and meticulous. They are no-stone-unturned thorough. You can lose yourself in the man's work. For example Jour De Fete, his first feature, can be seen in three different versions: there's the black and white version was that released in '49, a partially coloured version from 1964 and then a fully restored colour version from 1994, that was how Tati originally shot the film but was never developed. The Mon Oncle and Playtime discs in particular come laden with documentaries and commentaries.
Each film is accompanied by analytical films by Stéphane Goudet of the prestigious French film magazine Yippee Cahier Du Cinema. That is not a publication you would normally trust to steer you around the subtle intricacies of the latest Will Ferrell. It is tempting to say that these earnest and furrowed brow commentaries, spoken by a man who sounds like he could choke to death if afflicted by a sudden burst of laughter, are inadvertently funnier than the films they discuss; but in fac,t they are often enormously informative and well worth watching.
Click here for review of Jour De Fete
Click here for review of Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot
Click her for review of Mon Oncle
Click her for review of Playtime
Click here for review of Trafic
Jour De Fete (1949.) / Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot (1953) / Mon Oncle (1958) / Playtime (1967) / Trafic (1971.) / Parade (1974.)/ Les Courts Metrages, a collection of 7 short films (1935 – 1978.)
Slapstick is simultaneously the highest and lowest form of wit. It runs the gamut from fat old ladies slipping off trampolines on You've Been Framed to the front of a house falling around an oblivious and unconcerned Buster Keaton in Steamboat Bill Jr. It embraces the very worst in human nature and elevates it to high grace, which is why I think a great physical comedian is a little more of a treasure than a master of verbal wit: I'd take Laurel and Hardy over Groucho Marx.
The promotional material for StudioCanal beautifully assembled collection of French comic Jacques Tati's work includes a quote from Buster Keaton, “Tati began where we left off,” and who am I to disagree. It's just that when you get hold of the complete works of such a revered comedian, you might reasonably expect to be rolling around in laughter, but such coarse enjoyment is not the aim here. Jacques Tati is a perverse figure, a master comic performer and creator without much of a sense of humour.
Tati has a lot in common with the tyros of the Nouvelle Vague who took the tropes and traditions of US crime pulp fiction and took the fun out of them. Tati did something similar to the ideas of the silent era clowns, refining their work and, rather audaciously, deciding that he would use it to direct audience in directions other than hilarity. It's a choice that I have struggled greatly with over the years. I remember a mystified cinema trip to see a Sunday matinee of Mon Oncle; falling asleep half an hour into Playtime.
Watching this 7 disc box set it has slowly clicked with me. He makes you wait for the jokes but if you have the patience, when the laughter comes – and it may only be five or six times in a movie – it is a joyous sweep of satisfaction. The film making in Mon Oncle and Playtime is immaculate, on a par with the great film visionaries. Sometimes comedy doesn't require laughter – at its best Jacques Tati is a dream of the possibility of cinema.
The Box Set.
StudioCanal's presentation of his works is both loving and meticulous. They are no-stone-unturned thorough. You can lose yourself in the man's work. For example Jour De Fete, his first feature, can be seen in three different versions: there's the black and white version was that released in '49, a partially coloured version from 1964 and then a fully restored colour version from 1994, that was how Tati originally shot the film but was never developed. The Mon Oncle and Playtime discs in particular come laden with documentaries and commentaries.
Each film is accompanied by analytical films by Stéphane Goudet of the prestigious French film magazine Yippee Cahier Du Cinema. That is not a publication you would normally trust to steer you around the subtle intricacies of the latest Will Ferrell. It is tempting to say that these earnest and furrowed brow commentaries, spoken by a man who sounds like he could choke to death if afflicted by a sudden burst of laughter, are inadvertently funnier than the films they discuss; but in fac,t they are often enormously informative and well worth watching.
Click here for review of Jour De Fete
Click here for review of Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot
Click her for review of Mon Oncle
Click her for review of Playtime
Click here for review of Trafic
