French filmmaker Marcel L'Herbier churned out some outstanding pictures in his career. As terrific and rightly celebrated as may be the likes of, say, 'Eldorado,' or 'L'inhumaine,' however, few are those directors who can leap right out of the gate with a shooting star of a film. This is not to say that this 1919 title, early among his list of credits, is bad - far from it! - but one quickly discerns that as a strict matter of style and storytelling, it's a more modest type of affair. Shots are simpler in their composition, scenes are more straightforward, intertitles are more numerous to impart the plot that the imagery sometimes does not, and the cinematography is more plain. There's still bountiful room for fine work across the aboard, and a compelling narrative; only, as a matter of comparison, and as we see with silent films from anywhere and anyone, I don't think there's much arguing that this, L'Herbier's second directed feature, is a less sophisticated precursor to the works he would produce hereafter.
None of this specifically impacts the quality of the movie, mind you, though it may mark this as something that is more difficult for some modern viewers to engage with. Anyway, say what one will of the precise construction, by and large 'Le bercail' is mostly a splendid, satisfying picture. Screenwriter Henri Bernstein penned a tale with very familiar themes and ideas - the husband, snooty and patriarchal to the point of abuse; the wife, dissatisfied and yearning for Something More; supporting characters who make the woman's life even more dour, or otherwise complicate it; the lack of value, appreciation, and agency afforded to women. That's not to say that a new treatment of these thoughts can't still be worthwhile, and sure enough, Bernstein broadly makes the plot compelling with a readily sympathetic protagonist, smartly worded intertitles, and nice little details throughout. Likewise, in L'Herbier's direction there are welcome small touches, an attention to minutiae that can flesh out a moment and make it more real and important - something as small as how Evelyne clutches a letter. And to that point, in the nuts and bolts of the presentation, one might detect samples of the more grandiose flourishes and intricate artistry that L'Herbier would come to use as he progressed in his skills and vision.
With the writing and direction being a tad lighter yet nevertheless suitable, the rest of the picture benefits some commendable contributions all around. The sets look pretty sharp, not to mention the costume design, hair, and makeup. There's some choice editing and sequencing employed in spots, and even in its simplicity Georges Lucas' cinematography here is endearing. And I actually really like the cast, for I think the acting kind of splits the difference between the more exaggerated facial expressions and body language that characterized the earliest years of cinema, and the more natural and nuanced comportment that developed heading toward and following the advent of sound features. This applies to everyone in front of the camera, certainly, though as Marcelle Pradot figures most prominently as protagonist Evelyne, she's given the most opportunity to demonstrate her skills, and she ably does so with a display of gratifying subtlety and range. I'd rather like to find more of her films to watch, to be honest, just based on this.
All this is well and good. With all this having been said, however, there's one glaring, definitive problem that significantly drags down 'Le bercail for me, and it's here that I must betray some plot (fair warning, reader). One might observe that the story initially seems to set out to oppose antiquated values, setting up dreaming Evelyne as a figure evoking our sympathy compared to the maladroit inflexibility and pigheadedness of husband Etienne. That Evelyne goes on to have life experiences that aren't all as grand as she may have hoped, well, "them's the brakes" as the colloquial saying goes. Unfortunately, rather than resolve the conflict that meaningfully spurred the narrative in the first place, what this does instead is to circle back to embrace what would become a major trope of cinematic storytelling of a discrete sort - major, and tiresome - of suggesting an independently-minded woman has to step out on her own to appreciate what she already had in a much more limited life. Not only is this a lazy wrap-up rather than a sincere outcome, but ultimately the movie very stridently affirms those same antiquated values that it at first appeared to work against: Etienne did nothing wrong, Bernstein informs us, and Evelyne has much to be sorry for. And the very last shot, before "the end" flashes before our eyes? Gag me with a spoon; could you be more inappropriately heavy-handed?!
For the most part, there's nothing particularly special about 'Le bercail.' It mostly deserves to be honored on its own merits, as a surviving silent film, and as an early work in the careers of those involved, but step back and see how it looks compared to contemporary fare and successors, and I mostly don't think it will stand out in any one way. Even at that, the mounting drama that this weaves is earnestly absorbing, and the feature gathers strength as it advances. Even if it's not as immediately arresting and impressive as some of L'Herbier's later works, or other movies generally, the end result is nonetheless mostly enjoyable and worthwhile. So it's immensely regrettable that all the hard work that everyone else poured into the production is notably dampened by the nature of the material they had to work with; Bernstein was doing just great, and then in the last stretch - the last scene, even - he completely drops the ball. For what it's worth, I'm inclined to believe that the value this movie otherwise represents outweighs the obnoxiousness of Bernstein's gaffe, and while this isn't something one needs to go out of their way to see, it's still good enough to check out if one has the chance. But, by Jove, the slightest alteration in the screenplay would have made an enormous difference in the finished product overall.
Watch 'Le bercail,' by all means, but watch with tempered expectations, and do be aware of its one astounding flaw.
None of this specifically impacts the quality of the movie, mind you, though it may mark this as something that is more difficult for some modern viewers to engage with. Anyway, say what one will of the precise construction, by and large 'Le bercail' is mostly a splendid, satisfying picture. Screenwriter Henri Bernstein penned a tale with very familiar themes and ideas - the husband, snooty and patriarchal to the point of abuse; the wife, dissatisfied and yearning for Something More; supporting characters who make the woman's life even more dour, or otherwise complicate it; the lack of value, appreciation, and agency afforded to women. That's not to say that a new treatment of these thoughts can't still be worthwhile, and sure enough, Bernstein broadly makes the plot compelling with a readily sympathetic protagonist, smartly worded intertitles, and nice little details throughout. Likewise, in L'Herbier's direction there are welcome small touches, an attention to minutiae that can flesh out a moment and make it more real and important - something as small as how Evelyne clutches a letter. And to that point, in the nuts and bolts of the presentation, one might detect samples of the more grandiose flourishes and intricate artistry that L'Herbier would come to use as he progressed in his skills and vision.
With the writing and direction being a tad lighter yet nevertheless suitable, the rest of the picture benefits some commendable contributions all around. The sets look pretty sharp, not to mention the costume design, hair, and makeup. There's some choice editing and sequencing employed in spots, and even in its simplicity Georges Lucas' cinematography here is endearing. And I actually really like the cast, for I think the acting kind of splits the difference between the more exaggerated facial expressions and body language that characterized the earliest years of cinema, and the more natural and nuanced comportment that developed heading toward and following the advent of sound features. This applies to everyone in front of the camera, certainly, though as Marcelle Pradot figures most prominently as protagonist Evelyne, she's given the most opportunity to demonstrate her skills, and she ably does so with a display of gratifying subtlety and range. I'd rather like to find more of her films to watch, to be honest, just based on this.
All this is well and good. With all this having been said, however, there's one glaring, definitive problem that significantly drags down 'Le bercail for me, and it's here that I must betray some plot (fair warning, reader). One might observe that the story initially seems to set out to oppose antiquated values, setting up dreaming Evelyne as a figure evoking our sympathy compared to the maladroit inflexibility and pigheadedness of husband Etienne. That Evelyne goes on to have life experiences that aren't all as grand as she may have hoped, well, "them's the brakes" as the colloquial saying goes. Unfortunately, rather than resolve the conflict that meaningfully spurred the narrative in the first place, what this does instead is to circle back to embrace what would become a major trope of cinematic storytelling of a discrete sort - major, and tiresome - of suggesting an independently-minded woman has to step out on her own to appreciate what she already had in a much more limited life. Not only is this a lazy wrap-up rather than a sincere outcome, but ultimately the movie very stridently affirms those same antiquated values that it at first appeared to work against: Etienne did nothing wrong, Bernstein informs us, and Evelyne has much to be sorry for. And the very last shot, before "the end" flashes before our eyes? Gag me with a spoon; could you be more inappropriately heavy-handed?!
For the most part, there's nothing particularly special about 'Le bercail.' It mostly deserves to be honored on its own merits, as a surviving silent film, and as an early work in the careers of those involved, but step back and see how it looks compared to contemporary fare and successors, and I mostly don't think it will stand out in any one way. Even at that, the mounting drama that this weaves is earnestly absorbing, and the feature gathers strength as it advances. Even if it's not as immediately arresting and impressive as some of L'Herbier's later works, or other movies generally, the end result is nonetheless mostly enjoyable and worthwhile. So it's immensely regrettable that all the hard work that everyone else poured into the production is notably dampened by the nature of the material they had to work with; Bernstein was doing just great, and then in the last stretch - the last scene, even - he completely drops the ball. For what it's worth, I'm inclined to believe that the value this movie otherwise represents outweighs the obnoxiousness of Bernstein's gaffe, and while this isn't something one needs to go out of their way to see, it's still good enough to check out if one has the chance. But, by Jove, the slightest alteration in the screenplay would have made an enormous difference in the finished product overall.
Watch 'Le bercail,' by all means, but watch with tempered expectations, and do be aware of its one astounding flaw.
