The literal translation of Boudu sauvé des eaux is “Boudu saved from the waters” (thanks for the correction, Marilyn), which seems more apt than the English saved from drowning. After all, the very first shot, after the credits, is a stark, white, frame-filling “Boudu.” superimposed over water. The name ends in a period mark, as if it’s the definitive Boudu — Boudu period, and he’s in the water. Are we to take from this that Boudu’s natural state is being in the water, even prior to his jumping literally into the drink? Water is an ancient metaphor for chaos, for disorder; is Boudu’s life chaos? Or — more dangerous thought — is Boudu chaos himself?
In this way, we enter into Boudu Saved from Drowning, where nothing is simple, nothing is straightforward. Renoir tells us things elliptically, ambiguously, at a glance. On the surface, it’s a comedy of manners, a farce in the classic French tradition. The set-up is banal: a bourgeois bookseller Édouard Lestingois (Charles Granval), his mistress Anne-Marie (Sévérine Lerczinska) the upstairs maid and Lestingois’ wife Emma (Marcelle Hainia). Yawn. Where have we seen that one before?
It’s all there in the opening sequence: Lestingois as Pan chasing Anne-Marie, who is dressed as a nymph, around a set. It’s clearly artificial: the background is painted and the columns move when he nudges them. Over the top of it all plays a lone flute (is it Pan’s?), with that quality of mystery that the instrument often conveys. Cut to the interior of the bookshop, where he has apparently caught Anne-Marie, and is declaiming while holding her in his arms: “Anne-Marie,” he says, “you are like the nymphs. You are as graceful as they and could frolic in mossy glades . . .” Blah, blah, blah: not only is he cheating on his wife, but he’s being a pompous ass while he does so. He considers himself an educated man, a man of letters, who places himself in the classical tradition, in line with Euripides and Aristophanes.
Were original audiences lulled by this opening? Did it make them complacent about what they were about to see? Did they expect one thing and get something completely different? They apparently didn’t like what they ended up with, they tore up the theater seats and lit fires with newspapers. According to Michel Simon, who plays Boudu, the police were called regularly to the theater where the film played, and it was banned three days into its initial Paris run. Seems the sight of Boudu eating sardines with his hands, just smashing them into his mouth, as and trashing a ladies boudoir with shoe polish, was too much for refined Parisian sensibilities. Perhaps as well audiences resented being made fun of in so thorough a manner as Renoir does in this film.
Renoir’s films — in particular those from the ’30s — had a way of being banned, of pissing off the powers that be. Seven years later, Rules of the Game, considered now one of the greatest films ever made, was banned in France on the eve of World War II, after outraged audiences tore up theaters once again. As well as being massively entertaining, Renoir’s films were often political statements, and he sometimes paid the price. But he was a passionate filmmaker at a time when the French film industry had not yet become a profit-making machine modeled after Hollywood.
After the opening sets the scene with the Lestingois household, we cut to the park and a shot of . . . water. A child’s boat is being pulled across a pond in the Bois de Boulogne, a park on the Western edge of the city. And there sits Boudu himself, under a tree, squabbling with his dog. “Leave my grub alone,” he says, then tosses some to the pooch anyway. There is an open feel to this first scene in the park, a feel of freedom. It has a Dionysian look to it, or perhaps a Rousseau-like one that, for all it’s relative tameness (it is, after all, a park) still feels more open than the claustrophobia of Lestingois’ bookshop.
And that is one of the oppositions in a film full of them: the expansiveness of nature, of the world, versus the closed-in bourgeois society. Renoir frames the park in open, uncrowded compositions, with wild tangles of trees and undergrowth in the background. Inside the bookshop, and in the Lestingois’ upstairs apartment, the camera is confined, overcrowded. The compositions are closed, hemmed in by walls and the artificiality of their world.
Boudu’s dog runs off, and this sets the plot in motion, for he is despondent — Boudu, not the dog — and tired of life. He hikes into the center of town, or more precisely wanders, and onto the Ponts des Arts, right in front of Lestingois’ shop. A confirmed voyeur, the bookseller is telescopically spying on passing women from his upstairs apartment. Behind him, 
Anne-Marie is cleaning an artificial tree, complete with artificial birds, that speaks to another opposition in the film: genuine versus artificial. We have just seen the “wilds” and now we see a simulation of it, cooped up in Lestingois’ apartment.
Lestingois spots Boudu, wandering along the Seine: “Just look at that one,” he says “He’s wonderful. I’ve never seen such a perfect tramp.” To Lestingois, Boudu is a specimen, an object for study, a type. It reminds me of Ronald Reagan’s saying about the difference between a liberal, who feels for abstractions — the poor, the homeless, the hungry — and a conservative, who loves the individual, and will give him or her the shirt off his back. Perhaps the intensely humanist Renoir would have agreed with him about which one was more desirable.
Boudu jumps into the Seine, and Lestingois, horrified, races out of his shop, down the quay and into the water to save him. A crowd (another symbol of chaos) gathers on the banks and on the bridge, and they cheer wildly as, in conjunction with a passing tour boat and skiff, rescues the tramp in a spectacularly matter-of-fact scene. The crowd follows him — roiling and rowdy and cheering — as he brings the dripping Boudu into his shop. There, they are literally shut out of the proceedings: the door is closed, the chaos subsides, and we’re left in the relative calm of the bookshop. With one small difference: A little bit of disorder has been introduced into the shop, and it proceeds to tear their lives apart.
Boudu Saved From Drowning is structured in three acts, which it owes partly to its origins as a stage play by René Fauchois. Renoir sets the acts apart with music in the form of the solo flute played by a neighbor, which serves as a marker but also to remind us of the 
wildness that has entered into the Lestingois’ lives. (Thus another opposition: chaos versus order) Always on the cutting edge, Renoir utilized deep focus techniques — which he would perfect in Rules of the Game — to help us keep straight the geography of Lestingois’ apartment. In one breathtakingly simple tracking shot — which you can see here — he establishes the precise relationships between dining area, kitchen and the central courtyard, and as he does so, reinforces the differences in class between the denizens of each.
Another or Renoir’s technical innovations was the use of long lenses. In what is perhaps the most famous shot of the film, which you can see here, he places the camera in a second-story window, and across the street, from Boudu as he shambles along the book-stalls on the Left Bank. It’s an early example of guerilla filmmaking: the street was not cleared, and the other people in the shot are actual passersby. They have no idea who Simon is or that he is not an actual Parisian tramp.
By the time he made Boudu, Renoir was an old hand at film directing: it was his eleventh feature film as solo director. He shows how good he was at the art in his sure staging of action within the confines of the Lestingois’ apartments. As Boudu is introduced, there is almost a balletic quality to the chaos within Renoir’s closed compositions. As the crowd thins out, the staging becomes more calm and studied, except for Boudu, who is a continuing locus of confusion.
Which brings us to the center of the film, the astonishing performance by Michel Simon. All the acting is fine, especially that of Hainia, who turns what could have been an hysterical part into a deliciously understated performance. But the picture belongs lock, stock and barrel to Michel Simon. I am convinced that it is one of the greatest performances of the last 
century. Wry and physical, he is constantly in motion, literally bouncing off the walls and hanging from the doorways. Although he is clearly disturbed, it is impossible to tell when he is truly off his nut and when he is slyly messing with his benefactors and, through them, us.
The genius of Simon’s performance is that we don’t always like him, or at least I don’t always like him. He makes me nervous: I cringe while I laugh as he slides across furniture, invading the personal space of everybody he meets. He is imperious and cranky, and not at all subservient as we expect the poor to be. Perhaps that is the root of it: tramps and otherwise marginalized individuals are expected to by God act the part, to act like they are marginalized. It is a bedrock of our belief system, you hear it all the time: beggars can’t be choosers, but that isn’t the case for Boudu. He expects not only to choose, but to dictate as well. He thinks he is the equal of his middle-class benefactors, and that drives them, and perhaps us, nuts.
Another thing that drives his benefactors — as well as us? — crazy is his lack of gratitude for what they have done for him. It is seen in many ways, from Emma’s expectation that he help out to Édouard’s calling him an ungrateful to Anne-Marie lecturing about not him not saying “thank you.” The Lestingois’ expect not only gratitude but obligation out of Boudu. When Emma confronts him, intending to tell him to leave, she begins with “Mr. Lestingois and I are your benefactors.” “Yes, I know” says Boudu. “Nevertheless, you don’t seem fully conscious of your obligation to us arising from your situation.” Apparently, the charity of the Lestingois’ is not very charitable; everything they give has strings attached.
Part of what Renoir is up to in Boudu — other than making a truly funny
satire — is pitting the middle class against the under-class and, through the interaction, poking enormous fun of the former. The vacuousness of the bourgeoisie is laid bare through the actions and antics and attitude of the tramp. Boudu represents freedom; the Lestingoises live in oppression. Boudu represents chaos; the Lestingoises order. Boudu represents the real; the Lestingois’ lives are as artificial as that fake tree that Anne-Marie keeps dusting.
But the film has more going for it than mere class comedy. As Jean-Pierre Gorin points out, in a supplement on the Criterion DVD, the figure of Boudu is downright subversive, out-and-out dangerous. He is a wild element that has crept into the bookseller’s life, an element that is not altogether safe. This is shown very clearly in the rape (or is it seduction?) of Emma. Boudu 
has gotten spiffied up, with a hair-cut and a shave, and he walks with a new purpose, no longer weaving and bobbing and bouncing off the walls. It is as if he has become his benefactor Édouard. and now he is about to replace him on his marital bed as well. As she attempts to expel him from the household, he is pawing at her, making his desire for her very clear, and their conversation is about kitchen versus boudoir, but it’s clear they’re not talking about shoe polish, but about matters of sex and class. Boudu transgresses the ultimate boundary and takes her on her own bed.
From that point on, Boudu is Lestingois ‘ doppelganger, his off-skew double. He watches the shop in the bookseller’s absence, sending away a customer who wants a copy of The Flowers of Evil with a supercilious “This isn’t a flower shop.” He marries Lestingois’ mistress Anne-Marie — Emma’s double
— after he becomes solvent by winning the lottery.
It is while they are at the wedding, again in the “wilds” outside the city, that Boudu reaches for a water lily, unbalances the skiff the wedding party is in, and dumps everyone into the water. While the guests and his bride scramble for the banks, he lets the current carry him downstream. While Édouard, Emma and Anne-Marie dry off glumly on the bank, they wonder whether he has drowned or swum off. Only we know the truth: that he has been taken by whatever spirit animates him back to the wild. He has shed his new identity — quite literally, donning a scarecrow’s clothing — and gone back to cadging food imperiously from strangers.
The final shot of the film is a “bum’s parade,” shot from an extremely low angle, and interspersed with glimpses of the spires of Notre Dame. As one commentator noted, Renoir might be making a statement about the spiritual versus the earthiness of the tramps, but I think we at last understand that very first shot, of Boudu’s name, alone, over water. We start with Boudu alone and end with many; Boudu is all tramps, everywhere and at once.
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I’ll be back in a bit. Have to go pick up the daughter.
Let’s all meet at that place that sells donuts by that building where they have that stuff. I’ll be right there.
Right behind you … let me see if my Vichy collaborators want to come.
Yeah but Fox, he doesn’t really accept those things. He’d be happy to not have any of their stuff. He doesn’t want the tie, he doesn’t want to shine his shoes, etc. Then when he falls in the water he leaves. He does stick around you’re right and he could have left immediately but I think his behavior, in a way, was him refusing what he was being given.
In a weird Boudu kind of a way. Maybe he’s not a Christ figure, maybe he’s a Buddha figure. Finally bringing everyone by the end to a state of nirvana, or at least a zen acceptance of life.
Well, if anything, this movie, and our comments about it, stand as a good example of how there can be widely varying readings of a movie. I never would have anticipated some of the insights given here today… Boudu as Christ? Boudu as Buddha? Boudu as f*ck the system punk rocker? I don’t see it, but that’s what makes these roundtable discussions so fun.
I think there could be a really subversive way to read this movie. Boudu tried to end his life when the one thing that mattered to him, his dog, ran off. After spending time in a bourgeois household, he escapes it and realizes that his life was worth living after all compared with what he just went through.
Sometimes, I wish we were talking face to face so there wasn’t this lag.
Let’s all meet at that place that sells donuts by that building where they have that stuff. I’ll be right there
I don’t know. Things might get out of hand. Not many of us have been acculturated to your Alabama ways, Rick. I mean, I have, because I’m from Texas, but I can only speak for myself.
We should have a book club meeting face to face and record it for posting.
Marilyn: Hah! I like it, the subversive reading, that is. What do you think he’d do if he hit a really dysfunctional family …
I’d love to get together in a coffee-house or a bar somewhere.
And whatevah do you mean about my Alabama ways, Fox?
I think there could be a really subversive way to read this movie. Boudu tried to end his life when the one thing that mattered to him, his dog, ran off. After spending time in a bourgeois household, he escapes it and realizes that his life was worth living after all compared with what he just went through.
Oh, come on. That’s not subversive. That kind of point of view (not stated in the same terms, mind you) has been the fodder of satire since satire was first named. A REALLY subversive reading would involve a direct hit on the under-classes and their faults and deficiencies without falling back on “Oh, but they’re crazy” excuses.
I’m not saying this is necessarily preferable (though why not?), but that’s what I would count as subversive. Not pointing and laughing at the upper-classes.
Hey I’m back! Any donuts left?
I’m scrambling to keep up here on what’s turned out to be a pretty busy work day for me, so pardon my infrequent and superficial/redundant commentary.
I’m in agreement with Jonathan and others in that I didn’t find Lestingois to be a bad guy. Naive, maybe misguided. Certainly his motives for rescuing Boudu were predominantly good, but certainly mixed with ego. I still go back to the example I mentioned earlier than he seems to treat Boudu like a pet initially. I don’t think he really knew what he was getting into when he brought Boudu into the house, which, of course, is kind of the point.
With regard to religious imagery mentioned much earlier – isn’t there a shot of Notre Dame inserted earlier in the film that the bum’s parade? I’m remembering seeing it at what would have been the start of the third act. I remember kind of puzzling at it, but not getting the signifcance at that point. Anyone else recall this?
without falling back on “Oh, but they’re crazy” excuses.
Anyone around here you’re talking about, he asked innocently?
Certainly his motives for rescuing Boudu were predominantly good, but certainly mixed with ego.
Personally, I’ve never met a motive that wasn’t mixed. And you’re so right that he didn’t know what he was getting into.
There are two shots of Notre Dame inserted, at both the start of the second act — after that nocturnal interlude — and at the beginning of the third. I asked that question before, but got no takers.
One person says he’s commenting on the difference between the spiritual and the material.
I’d love to get together for an in-person TOERIFC gathering. Is there any place we could go that is relatively close for everyone? Probably not …
I’d love to get together for an in-person TOERIFC gathering. Is there any place we could go that is relatively close for everyone? Probably not …
My living room is reeeeally close for me but I don’t know about everyone else.
Marilyn – This is a little late but have you ever seen a bio of Nick Nolte on A&E, or just read one on Wikipedia? Because I saw one years ago and that speech that you like in Down and Out in Beverly Hills he came up with. It’s simply Nolte reciting the arc of his life. None of that is made up, it’s what really happened to Nolte.
Coming very late to the party… From reading the comments I was struck by the conversation about Boudu’s lack of gratitude even though he didn’t want to be saved. It reminded me of The True Meaning of Pictures when there was the conversation about the Kentuckians not wanting to accept help either. And I’m wondering (apologies to Jonathan and others) but if someone is saved against his will why should he be expected to be grateful? Another thing that bugs me is Boudu’s staying with the Lestingois. If he didn’t want to live, didn’t want to wear a tie, didn’t approve or marriage, preferred the floor, then why stay?
Several have commented about all the characters having likable and unlikable qualities. Being set in a bookshop, is that to point out that people cannot be judged by their covers either?
Boudu seemed at his happiest (to me) when he was floating away from everyone after having tipped the skiff. Which does seem to suit the literal translation of the title better. Just because he was saved from water does not mean that he was unsafe or unhappy in the water.
Rick, I didn’t mean to knock you with my comment. I was just trying to head off anyone’s point that Renoir does satirize the underclass, because Boudu has excuses made on his behalf, while Lestingois doesn’t.
The whole point being that what passes for “subversive” in art these days more often than not strikes me as same-old, same-old. There are no new targets being picked out. No one provides intelligent satirization of, say, women or minorities (because they’re afraid of being labeled a bigot), or liberals (some of that, not much), or atheists, activists, or radicals, and so on. One way of looking at it is that no one satirizes the satirists. So we get satire of conservatives and men and faith and the middle-class and the suburbs, and so on even more. The kind of satire we get is NOT risky or subversive, and I don’t think Boudu is, particularly, either, although at the time it might well have been.
Btw, Jonathan, I see you’ve now got a gravatar. Now I can see your eye whenever you comment on my blog.
One way of looking at it is that no one satirizes the satirists.
Bill, I’m certainly not offended. But I think that Boudu satirizes the dominant culture, and you’re right: that’s probably not so subversive any more. I don’t think there’s particularly anything particularly conservative about Lestingois, I think there are very definite anti-conservative traits about him, or at least conservatism as it’s defined in the popular press.
I wasn’t saying Lestignois was conservative — I was just talking broadly about satire as it exists today, and how I don’t think risky satire actually exists anymore, for all the claims to the contrary.
I wanted to go back and fiddle with my comment and make it more clear, but you’d already commented after me, and I couldn’t! Thanks a lot, Wordpress!!!
I agree with Bill.
Bill:
Hah! Gotcha!
But I see what you mean … and I’d have to agree with you. But don’t you think that historically most satire has been versus the dominant culture? They are the biggest targets, and they tend to hold all the power, and satire is often a way of people who think they have no power “evening the score?”
If this is true, it should be no surprise that most satire is aimed at our own Bourgeoisie, of which I count myself a member.
I think the problem with most movie satire TODAY is that most of it is aimed at the politically convenient/safe culture or target, and so we end up seeing the same thing over and over and over again.
Btw, Jonathan, I see you’ve now got a gravatar.
Yes, you and I are the only two “visible” commenters.
I wanted to go back and fiddle with my comment and make it more clear, but you’d already commented after me, and I couldn’t! Thanks a lot, Wordpress!!!
Yeah, Wordpress is no Blogger.
I agree with Bill.
I agree with Fox.
And now it’s usually around this time that I say as one of the Admin folks here that this was another smashing success and then usually about 60 more comments follow. More will stream in tonight and tomorrow but as we close out this work day let me express once again that in all three cases the movie meant substantially more to me after the discussion. And while I thank Pat and others on the TOERIFC sidebar who comment (and there is no requirement to join in the conversation so don’t get me wrong on this next part) I just want to thank our core group:
Ed, Bill, Fox, Marilyn and Rick. Everyone else is always welcome of course but thanks so much to the five of you for keeping these conversations lively. And everyone else on the TOERIFC sidebar or just regular readers of Coosa Creek, please join in at any time. There’s always more to say.
And I wanna add to Jonathan’s last comment…. PLEASE bring your A-Game to Bill’s TOERIFC next month, b/c I get the impression he’s kind of nervous about it already.
Bill. I read that Ingmar Berman himself is aware of your April selection and will be reading along while we comment.
BUT… we still need to chug along with this edition of TOERIFC. Where are Joseph, Flickhead, et al?? Dudes!!
And as the host of this little outing, let me add my two cents worth, and echo everything that Jonathan says. I learned a lot from you all.
Don’t let me keep you from commenting, though, I still haven’t heard a theory on Notre Dame …
And that spider … what’s the deal with him?
I still haven’t heard a theory on Notre Dame …
They were 6-6 last year in football, I believe. My theory is that their couch is not in tune with his players. There is a disconnect in the locker room. Also, the offensive line underperformed and the defensive backfield is just too young at this point.
Now…
Since I see Boudu Saved From Drowning as more lighthearted than some of y’all do, here are a couple of scenes I laughed at:
* The one where the book store owner says “take out the tongue” and his wife sticks her tongue out.
* The one where they are talking about being certified rescuers and receiving medals for their efforts and one of them says he hasn’t received a medal for saving a man’s life yet because his “specialty was runaway horses”.
Fox, I absolutely love those lines. I also love it that the straw that breaks Lestingois’ back is that Boudu spits in Balzac … BALZAC! And it’s “The Physiology of Marriage,” to boot.
And “Emma, there’s another spitter in the house.” or however that line goes.
Who knew there were rescue associations? It’s like we have to have a structure for everything.
* The one where the book store owner says “take out the tongue” and his wife sticks her tongue out.
I laughed my ass off at that, I’ve gotta say. I hope I haven’t given the impression that I don’t find the film funny, because I certainly do; Simon’s performance is frequently a riot, too. Just because we’ve all been discussing the serious implications of the plot shouldn’t mean that we don’t also appreciate its humor.
Rick, I have no theory on the shots of Notre Dame. Considering the other themes of the film, I wouldn’t necessarily be surprised if Renoir was parodying the hypocritical religious sentiments of the bourgeois, but the religious references in the film seem so random and disconnected that I can’t exactly formulate how that would fit together.
Yeah, personally I think it’s funny as hell.
I think Renoir, in general, is a-religious. Not necessarily anti- religious, but not particularly worried about it, either.
Once again, the overnight shifts have brought me late to this here party…
I haven’t had a chance to read through all the comments yet, but I CERTAINLY WILL on my overnight shift tonight because, like the last two films we’ve all watched together, I’ve found this one equally as fascinating.
Rick, you have written a great post on a very important film. I started watching Renoir films this year intensively because of you. Starting with THE RULES OF THE GAME and THE GRAND ILLUSION. This is now my fourth or fifth film of his I’ve watched and it may just be my favorite.
I know it isn’t as famous as the others I listed, and it probably isn’t even as good of a film, but there is something about Simon as Boudo that doesn’t allow me to look away. If Chaplin’s Tramp had a love child with Harpo Marx and he grew to be a cantankerous old hobo I believe that man would strongly resemble our bearded hero.
Like I said before, I haven’t gotten through all of the comments yet, but to address some of the things you brought up in your post….
Admittedly, while watching the film I did not look too much into the meanings of its goings on. I was too mesmerized by the odd central performance. But the point you make about the differences between order and chaos really make sense to me. The way he takes up space in Renoir’s compositions is kind of like a wild dog. He moves freely between the people. Curls up onto walls. Barks over people with no regard. In some ways…hell…in most ways he’s less civalized than the dog he’s hugging in the beginning of film.
I loved reading your take on the final scene, when Boudo flips the boat. There is no greater visual cue in the film than Boudu letting the current take him where it will.
Just by reading the last few comments I have to say that Fox and I had similar reading on the picture in regards to its light-heartedness. I found it to be more like a Stooges short than a strong social critique, but that may just be my ignorance.
Also, when he tells his wife to take out the tongue, I laughed for about 5 minutes!
The way he takes up space in Renoir’s compositions is kind of like a wild dog. He moves freely between the people. Curls up onto walls. Barks over people with no regard. In some ways…hell…in most ways he’s less civalized than the dog he’s hugging in the beginning of film.
I like this analogy of taking up compositional space like a wild dog, and there certainly is something Marxian — as in Marx Brothers — about the film.
Pat makes the point that Lestingois treats Boudu like a dog …
When I watch a film, the first time — unless I know I’m going to write about it — is often just for the enjoyment. In the case of this one, I see more in it each time I see it.
I’m glad Boudu has enough substance to be involving on multiple levels.
Rick, thanks for remembering the spider. Of course, I’m sure it means nothing but whenever a filmmaker leaves something in that can easily be removed it makes me wonder. There’s the water behind the credits and on the left side of the screen is a spider, barely perceptible. It moves up and down and given the amount of stock water footage he probably had access to and still chose to keep the one with the fat spider on the side… well, I have no idea, I just find it interesting.
I noticed the dog bit too that Pat mentions. Boudu jumping up on the table and Lestingois patting him on the head. It’s as if Boudu lost his dog, then becomes someone else’s until they groom him enough that he’s no longer the happy mutt and he runs away.
That’s a great point. Lestingois does treat Boudu like a dog he saved from the street. Should we assume Boudu is just a dog that refuses to be house broken?
Isn’t the dog from the beginning some kind of show dog? Worth 10,000 francs? I’m pretty sure the comparison between the two is deliberate.
once again, haven’t read through all the comments. This has probably already been stated.
Joe, I liked that part, not just because the cops wouldn’t help Boudu and would help the rich lady but also because the 10,000 Francs dog is of more concern to them than the human being Boudu, living on the streets.
I agree Jonathan. The cop not only refuses to help Boudu, but tells him to get lost otherwise he’ll lock him up.
I didn’t quite understand what law he was breaking, but that makes him even more like a dog to society. (He can be locked up for simply being and wandering)
Personally, I thought the satire was really just overbearing in that scene. Yes, we get it, the cops only care about the pretty rich lady with the expensive dog, not the poor bum who seems genuinely upset. Renoir’s satire is subtle and surgical throughout most of the film, but at that point he uses a hammer rather than a scalpel.
And Joe, I imagine he would’ve been locked up for vagrancy, assuming French law has an equivalent. It really is being locked up just for wandering.
Personally, I thought the satire was really just overbearing in that scene.
But that’s early in the film and Renoir’s setting the stage for the forgotten man who commits suicide so I don’t think a sledgehammer approach is necessarily unwarranted at that point. Later it would be much worse but early on I think it works to the advantage of the film.
Ed-
It may be overbearing, but I’m all for it. Plus, I agree with Jonathan. It’s early in the film, and like you said, the satire is pretty subtle for the rest of the picture, so I think that scene fits in okay.
Also, there is a visual comparison between the dog and Boudu. I found the hair on both of them to look pretty similar.
The scene in the park is really too schematic, I have to agree with Ed, like Renoir’s trying to draw all the oppositions, all the contrasts between the “classes” very clearly, almost too clearly. The guy in the car is callous, so Boudu gives him money. The cops fawn all over the blond, and Renoir goes BACK to it, twice, when once would have been plenty.
I think the scene in the park is the only place Renoir kind of loses his way, actually.
I’m not disagreeing that it’s a bit over the top with its message. What I’m saying is, personally I don’t mind.
Then again, I do often enjoy films that are very blunt in message.
The distinguished critic David Thomson says in his celebrated NEW BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY OF FILM that BONDOU SAVED FROM DROWNING is “an insignificant little melodrama, given an unexpected vigor and depth by a sense of momentary occasion in the filming. The congealing melodramatic cliche of American and German cinema was broken by Renoir’s saying to himself: Bondu throws himself into THIS river on this day and is seen by Lestingois on the other side of THAT street. To embrace the crucial moment, Renoir withdrew his camera from the expressive close-ups of melodrama and showed the events. By doing so, he discarded all the rigidities of genre and allowed his characters to seem like figures in a theatre of life.
Most interesting point, which in the end seems to mitigate the seemingly early damning contention.
Rick:
The comment thread is overwhelming! Magnifique!
In any case, maybe I missed it but was it yet discussed that Simon’s movements in the film somewhat resemble Charles Laughton?
And that Boudu is rather an unsentimentalized bum, quite the other extreme of Chaplin’s lovable tramp?
The scene in the park is really too schematic, I have to agree with Ed
The crucial element that both you and Ed are missing is that my opinion is the only one that matters. I’m not sure how you both missed it but nonetheless, there it is.
Seriously though, it’s low-comedy in the Mel Brooks School Tradition (before Mel even started a school!) and I thought it was fine. Which is of course the right way to look at it. My way.
Sam, no we hadn’t discussed his similarity to Laughton. Thanks for pointing it out … It is quite a comment thread, all right. We do a good job around here when we put our minds to it.
The quote from Thomson I don’t quite get, though … I’m not sure what he means by “momentary occasion in it’s filming”. I get what he’s saying about eschewing the close-ups, etc., they’r acknowledged elements of his style, the deep focus, the dislike of shot-reverse-shot, etc… I think that’s part of his genius, that there a truth and realism to his stuff. It’s why they call it “poetic realism.”
Jonathan, now I get it. I am indeed indebted to you for pointing out to me what should have been obvious all along. From now on, I will mend my ways. I will!!! As God is my witness, rather than offering any opinion or review, I will send everyone to Cinema Styles. As a matter of fact, I shall from now on pledge to rename my blog to “Cinema Styles South” and tell my three readers to go over there. Thank you, Obi Wan Lapper. Thank you.
I agree that the copper scene is a little hammered in, but I guess I forgive that more in comedies. Granted, it’s a joke that hasn’t age well (unlike the $5 dollar joke that, to me, is still gold) but the moment didn’t come off as that heavy-handed to me b/c of the farcical nature of that scene.
And on the dog thing, the cop gets in a jab as well. After Boudu describes what his lost dog looks like – the shaggy hair and the scruffiness – the cop says “that sounds like a dog you’d have”, or something along those lines. But Boudu does act like a dog though, don’t he?? He eats like a slob, dry humps ladies from behind, spits, sleeps on the floor.
Hi! Rick,
has arrived!…I just place “Boudu Saved From Drowning” in my cart…I don’t plan to leave another comment, but very interesting comments so far…By jove!…between you, Sam (Juliano,) Allan (Fish,) Alexander (Coleman) and Dean (Treadway) …My “contemporary library shelves will begin to fill-up!….
The “lurker”
….Tony (D’Ambra), (The “Professor” and The “Captain”…are 2 men that have assisted me in building a film noir collection in less than 2 and half years.) have already filled my “classic” library shelves.
Thanks,to one and all!
Dcd
David Thomson is an ass.