While American films contained some comedy greats in the early part of the twentieth century, such as Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd, Laurel and Hardy, and Charlie Chaplin, France also produced a great of their own: Jacques Tati. Although he only produced a relatively short list of feature films (Jour De Fête, Les Vacances de M. Hulot, Mon Oncle, Playtime, Trafic, and Parade), Jacques Tati became critically acclaimed and an artist never to be forgotten. With Mon Oncle, his third film, Tati hit upon some themes about the modern age, which could be as relevant today as then they were then.
Monsieur Hulot (Jacques Tati) lives in an old, shabby, suburb, that has a distinctly personal feel, with a close-knit community that knows and cares for each other. The house he co-habits is a somewhat eccentric building off the town square and he lives a relaxed lifestyle, more akin to times past, where everyone is happy in their ramshackle existence. In contrast, Monsieur Hulot’s sister, brother in law, and nephew all live in a modern construction, with every gadget/’modcon’ they desire, in the newer part of town. His in-laws, the Arpels, are true devotees of the modern world, and could be poster children for the aspirational middle class, as they strive to maintain a progressive image and shrug off the past.
The plot, as much as there is one, essentially sees the Arpels try desperately to bring Hulot into their world, and get him to conform to their modern approach to life, much like they also struggle to encourage their son, Gérard in the same way. Gérard loves his Uncle, has a far warmer relationship with him than he does to his own parents, and is drawn to the dishevelled part of town, as opposed to the clinical new world of his own home. Monsieur Arpel’s efforts to conform Hulot, begin by trying to get him a job in the plastics factory that Arpel runs, which doesn’t even get past the interview stage, a scene which contains one of the finest visual gags and is typical of Jacques Tati. After this failure, Madame Arpel suggests setting Hulot up on a date with their slightly odd neighbour at a garden party, which Hulot also manages to derail, although Monsieur Arpel does manage to arrange another job for Hulot at the factory during the party; Arpel regrets this decision though, as Hulot manages to create even more mayhem at the factory.
While there is the presence of this general narrative though, Mon Oncle is predominately the touching tale of Monsieur Hulot and his relationships with his sister, brother in law and most importantly, his nephew.
What is remarkable is that within the framework of what is a relatively easy going comedic piece, Tati has managed to include a lot of social commentary and wry observations, which still remain true.
The most obvious of these pieces of commentary is how he frames the concepts of modernity, apparent progress and uniformity, using the aspirational Arpels as his example. Their lives are governed by what is considered ‘en vogue’ in a modern household, playing an expensive game of ‘keeping up with the Joneses’, even though they probably can’t afford it; Madame Arpel for instance only has the fountain running when guests are at the door. The fallacy of their existence is also evident in how their open plan house is apparently designed so that it is more conducive to communication, but the Arpels are mostly living ‘cookie cutter’ lives, as if churned out by a factory, with very little true communication between either themselves or the world, unlike Hulot.
This idea of the old vs the new, or relaxed lifestyle vs the ‘Rat Race’ has been examined before, such as in Chaplin’s Modern Times (1936), and the BBC TV Series The Good Life (1975), but remains as pertinent now as it was at any of those previous times. In Mon Oncle, Tati shows us both the new and the old, and we sympathise with the titular hero, Hulot, as the old suburbs are demolished, while we feel aghast at the clinically cold nature of the new.
The film is not all about the satirical or social commentary though, as it is essentially a comedy film, with Jacques Tati’s remarkable performance at its centre. Running at almost two hours, Mon Oncle is quite a slow paced film, and the humour is delivered in quite a leisurely manner, but this is by no means a negative aspect. Tati fills the time with carefully constructed gags, and lets the easy, laid back, and subtle comedy slowly charm you. While this may not have the delivery speed of more recent comedy films, there is something to be said for letting the material breathe and allowing yourself to sink into Hulot’s world.
Created with the assistance of Jacques Lagrange and Henri Schmitt, Hulot’s world is an amazing place, with some of the finest sets and art direction of the period. Both the old and the new have been perfectly rendered, giving each their own personality and allowing the visuals to further describe the distinction between the two worlds. The old has been given warm colours, with ramshackle buildings, full of odd, or quirky details, while the new is very angular, clinical and mechanical, while also being predominately grey and imposing; even when elements do have colour in the ‘new world’, they are still on things that are very much form over function, such as the highly uncomfortable sofa. It is a world also greatly enhanced by the use of sound, as any dialogue is minimal and sound effects or music take centre stage. So good is the use of sound, that you can imagine that had the greats of the silent era experimented with it, this is what they may have created, with odd noises or music taking the place of dialogue. It is little wonder, given the quality of the design behind not only the world, but also the humour, that Mon Oncle won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film in 1959.
While not the deepest or most complicated film, the central point of Mon Oncle, that not all progress is good and that the life of the modern Bourgeoisie is essentially one of depersonalisation, is still valid today, 55 years later. Through the characters Tati creates, and like the analogy of the dogs that roam through the streets, Tati shows us that no matter how we dress ourselves or pretend, underneath we’re still animals, who will become less as people or wither without personal connections.
