Meet the master of French cinema: Exploring Jacques Tati

Ben Kenny from Sydney’s Film Club introduces the screen pioneer who’s been called the greatest director of all time. 

Jacques Tati is the finest director you've never heard of.

He only directed 6 films during his lifetime, a perfect little filmography. He won the Oscar for best Foreign language picture and directed the most expensive French film ever made up to that point. His films are accessible and unpretentious, yet he remains mostly unknown outside critic and cineaste circles.

So, who was Tati, and why should you watch his movies?

A pioneer of French cinema

Born in 1907, he first became known in the French music hall scene for an act he called ‘Sporting Impressions’, in which he single-handedly mimed a game of tennis, a boxing match and various other athletic pursuits.

The writer Colette said of his act "no artistic or acrobatic spectacle can do without this amazing performer, who has invented something quite his own...His act is partly ballet and partly sport, partly satire and partly a charade".

It was the first hint of his eye for the nuances of human behaviour which would only grow keener through his career.

He appeared in a few short films during this period, often co-opting elements of his act, but it wasn't until after the Second World War that he’d get the chance to make his own.

Jour De Fete (1949)

His first feature film, Jour De Fete (The Big Fair) was the world's introduction to Tati.

In it, he plays the postman of a provincial French village, with the simple plot revolving around a fair coming to town. The postman (played by Tati) sees a film about the efficiency of the US postal system and aims to mimic it.

…and that's it. Just enough narrative on which to hang a series of comic adventures on to display his finely honed physical comedy.

The themes he demonstrated at this early stage would echo and develop throughout his career, especially the ones around the march of progress and where humans fit into an increasingly mechanised and automated world.

It's a sweet and earnest little film; a glimpse at a village life that was already slipping away at the time. It now seems impossibly quaint, and the early use of colour gives it the patina of an old photograph or a faded memory. 

Monsiour Hulot's Holiday (1953)

His next film would be the first in which he plays the comic character he would reprise in virtually all of his subsequent films: Monsiour Hulot.

Recognisable by his pipe, umbrella, raincoat and for the trail of chaos he inevitably leaves in his wake, Hulot is good natured everyman, adored by children and dogs and reviled by stuffy bourgeoisie.

He reveals our humanity by puncturing our self-seriousness. Once again, the plot is entirely given away in the title, and is merely a framework for a series of gags; Hulot goes to the beach, Hulot befriends a local kid.

It would be easy to say nothing happens in Tati's films, but perhaps that's the appeal; they force us to slow down and observe the details. They turn us into people-watchers rather than plot followers. 

Mon Oncle (1958)

Tati’s biggest hit, Mon Oncle, is a perfect example of this.

I can't even tell you the plot - there's this fancy modern house? And a little boy? And of course, Hulot bumbling through it all, puncturing pretensions and spreading laughter and joy.

The joy is in the details: the house with eyes, the stray dogs burrowing through trash cans; with virtually no dialogue and a single, maddeningly catchy musical refrain which repeats throughout, Tati was refining his style down to its essence: revealing in exquisite detail the absurdity of human behaviour.

This would come to its fullest fruition in his next film, his masterpiece 'Playtime'.

Playtime (1967)

Flush from success, Tati spent a decade developing Playtime, literally building a small city outside of Paris (nicknamed Tativille) so that he could control every minute detail of the production.

His ambition extended to choreographing the traffic, the crowds, even the angles of reflections from glass doors. The result is a film unlike any other - plotless, characterless, and almost devoid of anything resembling traditional 'jokes'.

Yet, despite (or likely because of) this, it approaches something close to pure cinema. Things just happening. Sometimes the frame is so deeply packed with subtle details that it would take numerous viewings to follow all the threads.

The camera takes a god's eye view of things - long static shots from a distance, calmly and affectionately observing the humans as they scurry around fulfilling their business.

Even the character of Hulot is dwarfed by the scale of the film, the protagonist only by default, another ant under the microscope. It's a meticulously crafted Rube Goldberg machine which takes in the absurdity of modern life and spits out whimsy.

The film seems to anticipate the mood of the May 1968 protests, railing against urbanisation and modernity- "Under the paving stones- the beach!". It examines our alienation with a wry smile and reminds us that despite all attempts at control and isolation humans will find each other and connect through our flaws and imperfections.

Sadly, audiences at the time were not quite ready for Tati's intimate epic. Playtime flopped at the French box office and bankrupted him.

Trafic (1971)

He made one more theatrically released film, 'Traffic', which plays like a smaller, more ramshackle Playtime centred around automobiles. It’s his most underappreciated work and there are many pleasures to be found in it, including his final performance as his Monsieur Hulot.

It feels like Tati’s acknowledgment that the old world he’s known and loved is moving on without him. The journey he'd taken from the simple peasant life through increasing modernity had resulted in a kind of mechanised hell, and it doesn't feel like a world Tati wants to be in anymore. Perhaps that's why his final film is such a surprising joy.

Parade (1973)

'Parade', made for Swedish television in 1973, is essentially a filmed circus performance. Shot on a small soundstage in front of a live audience, it's filled with small joys- tumblers tumbling, clowns clowning, and Tati reprising the vaudeville acts which began his career 40 years earlier. It's said that in our twilight years we become children again, and that's where Tati leaves us; with the audience clearing out and a couple of children taking the stage to paint, dance, and play. 

The legacy of a legend

Tati passed away in 1983, but once you've seen his films you start to see his legacy everywhere. It's there in the gentle slapstick of Mr Bean or the visual magic of Michel Gondry. But the greatest gift he gives us is the ability to see life through his eyes, a world of absurdity, beauty and simple joys.

Ben Kenny is the owner of Film Club in Sydney. Find Film Club at 136 Darlinghurst Rd, Darlinghurst New South Wales, 2010.

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