In 1931, "City Lights" defied the talkies and proved that the world didn't needs words when you had stories, faces and an iconic tramp. Yet another tramp has emerged the same year and became one of the most emblematic and popular figures of French cinema: his name was Boudu and he was played by the incomparable Michel Simon.
Michel Simon was, like they say in French, a 'gueule', the word, usually referring to an animal's mouth, means a mug, an ugly or intimidating one, nothing really pleasant to look at anyway. But in French Cinema, the word has become a 'term of endearment' describing a face exuding a natural charisma whether. So if Norma Desmonds said, "we had faces," a French nostalgic movie lover would say, "we had some 'gueules' and he would be damn right And Michel Simon was the ultimate 'face'.. But while Desmond insisted on faces as a compensation for the lack of speaking, what a waste it would have had to never hear Simon talking. His voice was as unique as his face because it always reflected his ambiguous mix of vulnerability and confidence, immortalized in "Port of Shadows" with that quote: "better to have my face than no face at all". So, with such a bizarre looks and an expansive physique, Simon was born to play ambiguous men, either tragic or comic, but never comical in terms of belly laughs and never tragic in the heroic sense, he wasn't a Gabin and Fernandel, he was perhaps their missing link.
Simon wasn't born to define a genre, which is why he was the most complete and emblematic actor of his generation. A larger-than-life man who was hiding behind his teddy-bear appearance a big heart, just looking at his reunion with Renoir and you could see the tenderness fusing between these two men.And how couldn't they? Together, they wrote some of the first pages of French cinema and struck big with "La Chienne" in 1931 and one year later, in a more lighthearted tone, they made the story of "Boudu Saved from Drowning", a title that came to usual language and became a synonym of rebirth, although things don't go as planned as Boudu, much to the viewers' delight.
Boudu is as gruff, vulgar and crass as his name suggests but he's got a poetic soul, he's got style and character. He's a proud hobo spotting a shaggy-hippie-like beard, he's an anarchist, he's not scared of cops, he doesn't like getting a paper bill he didn't ask for and he likes to sing colorful songs, he would be an interesting mix between the Tramp, Quint and an Easy Rider, a monument of rebellious unpredictability. And this is the perfect note to play him because if Boudu was more inclined to pathos, and was eager to prove his gratitude to the man who saved him from drowning, there would be no story. But Boudu is that he's an ungrateful prick and that's why we love him.
When Boudu, desperate to find his black dog, jumps from Point des Arts and plunges his large body into the Seine, he's saved by a librarian named Lestinguois (Charles Grandval), a middle-aged liberal, with a devoted wife (Marcelle Hainia) and a naive and lusty servant he's having an affair with. But he's an intellectual and a humanist who walks the walk (and swims the swim) and after saving Boudu, he's developing a liking and keeps him at home, thinking there would be no point in saving him to let him go try another suicide attempt.The relationship between the men is interesting, Boudu recognizes his value as a good man and uses his patience as a shield to be more insolent and hostile toward his wife without it backfiring.
And it works, he knows because he's a bum, things will be forgiven more easily. Boudu is like a free electron that doesn't have the book smarts (hell, he spits on Balzac's book) but knows human nature more profoundly than any other humanist. The film is a splendidly executed confrontation between two schools of thought and behavior where Boudu's rude and dirty manners and dirty habits indirectly highlights the ugly hypocrisy of his host's attitude with his wife. Of course, it's less a social statement that Renoir is making than a little comedy showing that just because you're poor, you can keep your pride and behave like one, and maybe teach one thing or two to the rich one.
Once we understand, that it's Boudu who actually makes the rules in the house and manages to get what he wants, we're transported by the innocent poetry of the film and the idea that sometimes, it's the Boudus of the world that are happy, people who embrace the inner unpredictability of life and take risks. Boudu goes as far as trying to seduce the so cold and reluctant wife, but the outcome reveals a truth about that hidden lust for depravity and vulgarity, something that feels so modern by our own standards, let alone the 30's. Boudu is free, he's a man who doesn't think of the consequences and only for that, things turn out better than what the wise men build on patience and respectability. The best edifices are those built without the fear that they can collapse at any time.
The film wanders between life and fantasy and tries to find the right note to end it, and it does find it, because it is obvious Boudu shouldn't be saved in order to die either, but he must be happy not as we mean happiness but within his own vision of happiness, that's how we can be happy for him, the fact that we are, at the end, happy for him is a proof, that Renoir and Simon knew his audience and how to surprise them, and how to warm them.
Michel Simon was, like they say in French, a 'gueule', the word, usually referring to an animal's mouth, means a mug, an ugly or intimidating one, nothing really pleasant to look at anyway. But in French Cinema, the word has become a 'term of endearment' describing a face exuding a natural charisma whether. So if Norma Desmonds said, "we had faces," a French nostalgic movie lover would say, "we had some 'gueules' and he would be damn right And Michel Simon was the ultimate 'face'.. But while Desmond insisted on faces as a compensation for the lack of speaking, what a waste it would have had to never hear Simon talking. His voice was as unique as his face because it always reflected his ambiguous mix of vulnerability and confidence, immortalized in "Port of Shadows" with that quote: "better to have my face than no face at all". So, with such a bizarre looks and an expansive physique, Simon was born to play ambiguous men, either tragic or comic, but never comical in terms of belly laughs and never tragic in the heroic sense, he wasn't a Gabin and Fernandel, he was perhaps their missing link.
Simon wasn't born to define a genre, which is why he was the most complete and emblematic actor of his generation. A larger-than-life man who was hiding behind his teddy-bear appearance a big heart, just looking at his reunion with Renoir and you could see the tenderness fusing between these two men.And how couldn't they? Together, they wrote some of the first pages of French cinema and struck big with "La Chienne" in 1931 and one year later, in a more lighthearted tone, they made the story of "Boudu Saved from Drowning", a title that came to usual language and became a synonym of rebirth, although things don't go as planned as Boudu, much to the viewers' delight.
Boudu is as gruff, vulgar and crass as his name suggests but he's got a poetic soul, he's got style and character. He's a proud hobo spotting a shaggy-hippie-like beard, he's an anarchist, he's not scared of cops, he doesn't like getting a paper bill he didn't ask for and he likes to sing colorful songs, he would be an interesting mix between the Tramp, Quint and an Easy Rider, a monument of rebellious unpredictability. And this is the perfect note to play him because if Boudu was more inclined to pathos, and was eager to prove his gratitude to the man who saved him from drowning, there would be no story. But Boudu is that he's an ungrateful prick and that's why we love him.
When Boudu, desperate to find his black dog, jumps from Point des Arts and plunges his large body into the Seine, he's saved by a librarian named Lestinguois (Charles Grandval), a middle-aged liberal, with a devoted wife (Marcelle Hainia) and a naive and lusty servant he's having an affair with. But he's an intellectual and a humanist who walks the walk (and swims the swim) and after saving Boudu, he's developing a liking and keeps him at home, thinking there would be no point in saving him to let him go try another suicide attempt.The relationship between the men is interesting, Boudu recognizes his value as a good man and uses his patience as a shield to be more insolent and hostile toward his wife without it backfiring.
And it works, he knows because he's a bum, things will be forgiven more easily. Boudu is like a free electron that doesn't have the book smarts (hell, he spits on Balzac's book) but knows human nature more profoundly than any other humanist. The film is a splendidly executed confrontation between two schools of thought and behavior where Boudu's rude and dirty manners and dirty habits indirectly highlights the ugly hypocrisy of his host's attitude with his wife. Of course, it's less a social statement that Renoir is making than a little comedy showing that just because you're poor, you can keep your pride and behave like one, and maybe teach one thing or two to the rich one.
Once we understand, that it's Boudu who actually makes the rules in the house and manages to get what he wants, we're transported by the innocent poetry of the film and the idea that sometimes, it's the Boudus of the world that are happy, people who embrace the inner unpredictability of life and take risks. Boudu goes as far as trying to seduce the so cold and reluctant wife, but the outcome reveals a truth about that hidden lust for depravity and vulgarity, something that feels so modern by our own standards, let alone the 30's. Boudu is free, he's a man who doesn't think of the consequences and only for that, things turn out better than what the wise men build on patience and respectability. The best edifices are those built without the fear that they can collapse at any time.
The film wanders between life and fantasy and tries to find the right note to end it, and it does find it, because it is obvious Boudu shouldn't be saved in order to die either, but he must be happy not as we mean happiness but within his own vision of happiness, that's how we can be happy for him, the fact that we are, at the end, happy for him is a proof, that Renoir and Simon knew his audience and how to surprise them, and how to warm them.