“Toni” (1935)
By the mid-1930s, Renoir was already reaching an enviable position in the French film industry, but before working on grandiose sets and turning actors into stars, he filmed an intimate story centred around immigrants in the South of France, shooting on location and using non-professional actors. “Toni” is a film that usually gets buried under the cinematic weight of Renoir’s later masterpieces, but it deserves this slot for inspiring a major cinematic movement in another country (more on that below) and is a phenomenally well-realized film on its own right. It depicts a tragic love triangle as Italian immigrant Toni (Charles Blavette) is unhappily married to local hostess Marie (a monumental Jenny Helia) and infatuated with fellow immigrant Josefa (Celia Montalvan), all set against the sun-licked backdrop of blue-collar Provence. With this film, Renoir introduced another reason for his everlasting legacy: here was a director who didn’t have to rely on experienced actors in order to create something eternally affective. Think of the framing and camera movement when a local singer bursts into an eloquent serenade, or the scene transitions surrounding Marie’s suicide attempt. The single take of Marie rowing away from land and towards the limitless vastness contains an indescribable visual strength, and holds up as my personal favourite amongst the plethora of glorious long takes found in Renoir’s filmography. It’s a simple story elevated by the skillfulness of its director, and Luchino Visconti, who assisted Renoir on the picture, clearly got the message. He took the blueprint of one of the greatest Italian neorealist films not directed by an Italian back home with him, and the rest is cinema history.
“The Crime of Monsieur Lange” (1936)
Another title that is much too easily forgotten when discussing Renoir’s greatest achievements, “The Crime of Monsieur Lange” is essential viewing for any Renoir fan who wishes to get an understanding of his political persuasions —it’s a film “touched by grace” according to Francois Truffaut. European cinema was perforated by the growing Nazi movement in the 1930s, and Renoir, together with Jean Castanyer and Jacques Prevert, developed a politically biting storyline that directly questions authority and the ethical boundaries one should and shouldn’t cross. Mild mannered and meek Amedee Lange (Rene Lefevre) has committed a crime and is on the run with his girlfriend Valentine (a magnificent Florelle). When he’s recognized by a group of inn patrons, Valentine recounts their story and what Lange’s crime really is, before giving them the chance to turn him in to the police. In this way, one of the most absorbing settings in a Renoir film is introduced: the world of publishing collective “Javert,” designed to bring together detective stories, first under the materialistic supervision of Monsieur Batala (a deliciously villainous Jules Berry) and later, as a genuine cooperative spearheaded by the success of Lange’s work. Renoir played with funky dissolves and bombastic musical cues from long-time collaborator Joseph Kosma, but it’s the quieter moments, like when Valentine sings to Amedee, and minor characters like the old soldier who doesn’t have a receipt, that imbue the picture with Renoir’s extraordinary tenderness and appreciation for his fellow man. While the film has grown beyond its frames and acts as an artistic recording of a very particular political period in France, it’s still very much alive and is one of Renoir’s uncanny signatures.
