Grand Illusion - Jean Renoir

A film like Jean Renoir’s Grand Illusion is difficult to approach so long after the fact as having been discussed and dissected for decades by film critics and scholars, it's impossible to say anything new about it. Released in 1937, it was immediately embraced by the film community, becoming the first non-English film ever nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture and influencing generations of filmmakers. The interior narrative of the film is compelling, and so is the story of how Grand Illusion survived to be viewed today: banned in 1940 by the Nazis, prints were seized and destroyed during the occupation of France and the negative was thought lost. Prints were discovered in 1958 and the film was restored and re-released in 1960 and then, miraculously, in the 1990s the original negative was found, restored and released by Criterion. This is a film destined to continue being seen.

Set during World War I, Grand Illusion is a film about social transition. The genteel ways of the Belle Époque are dying away, about to be replaced by the rougher, more robust ways of the rising working and middle classes. The old ways are represented by the French Captain de Boieldieu (Pierre Fresnay) and German commandant von Rauffenstein (Erich von Stroheim), aristocratic officers on opposing sides who nevertheless form a bond, of sorts, due to their social class. Von Rauffenstein, especially, is stuck on this shared distinction, believing that class rather than nationality comes first and treating de Boieldieu with a deference befitting his social status. De Boieldieu promises not to try to escape from the high security P.O.W. camp overseen by von Rauffenstein, and further promises not to have any contraband in his possession – his word is good enough for von Rauffenstein, who believes that they have an unspoken and unbreakable connection. Imagine his surprise when de Boieldieu aides in the escape of two of his fellow prisoners.

The rising classes are represented by two characters: Marechal (Jean Gabin) and Rosenthal (Marcel Dalio), two of de Boieldieu’s fellow prisoners whom he helps to escape from the fortress-like prison. Marechal and Rosenthal sneak their way across the countryside, trying to avoid patrolling German troops, surviving hunger and the elements, and trying not to get on each other’s nerves. They aren’t always successful at this last task and at one point Marechal angrily leaves an injured and lagging Rosenthal behind then cools down and returns to help him. They eventually make their way to a farm where they are welcomed by Elsa (Dita Parlo), a widowed woman with a small daughter. All the men in her family have been killed, leaving behind a dinner table far too big for just herself and her daughter, so she’s happy to have the company despite the danger inherent in harbouring the two prisoners. She and Marechal fall in love and make tentative plans for their future in the event that they both survive the war. Unlike the relationship between de Boieldieu and von Rauffenstein, the one between Marechal and Elsa is genuine, suggesting that in the aftermath of the war it will be the working people, not the aristocracy, who will put the world back together and carry it into the future.

In describing Grand Illusion you could accurately call it an escape movie, a war movie, or a romance. In constructing the narrative, Renoir finds a way to move smoothly between the tropes of all these genres so that rather than resulting in a product that is schizophrenic, it’s a film that is alive with shifting possibilities while still maintaining its central thesis about the dying class system. Its influence has been great, echoing through decades of film, most notably informing the singing of the Marseilles scene in Casablanca and the tunnel digging sequence in The Great Escape. These scenes have been revisited in later films, but Renoir’s versions nevertheless retain their freshness.

Grand Illusion is a rare examples of an absolutely perfect film, one in which every single element is precisely what it needs to be and works as a complement to every other element. The most important aspect, though, is the story, which Renoir allows to flower in a way that seems utterly natural and unforced. It is surprising to reflect on the film and realize that there’s no “villain,” as such, especially when you consider that the film was made as the world was on the cusp of the Second World War. The film has as much sympathy for von Rauffenstein as it does for Marechal and Rosenthal, seeing him less as someone who has benefited from a rigid class system than as a casualty of that system’s inevitable collapse. There is as much poignancy in his final scenes with de Boieldieu, as they lament that whether they live or die the world is changing so that it can carry on without them, as there is in Marechel’s farewell with Elsa. The result is a film that elicits emotion from every angle, asking the audience to find a way to identify with the plight of each character regardless of what “side” (be it according to nationality or class) they happen to be on. It’s a beautifully crafted, perfectly executed work of art and a true masterpiece.