RENOIR: Grand Illusion (1938) [by Lewis Saul]

Screenplay by Charles Spaak and Jean Renoir.

Renoir was 43 when he directed Grand Illusion.

One of the greatest filmmakers of all time, Renoir directed several terrific films before this one: Boudu Saved From Drowning (1932) — an electric performance by Michel Simon — and The Lower Depths (1936); and a few great ones after this one, Rules of the Game (1939), for example.

But I don’t believe he made a greater film than this one, filmed between the two world wars.

If you haven’t seen this great masterpiece, do so immediately. We’ll wait.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Check it out:

Lt. Maréchal (Jean Gabin) is singing along to a gramophone record of an old French song, “Frou Frou.” The gramophone itself clues us in that this is World War I.
A dissolve and Captain von Rauffenstein (Erich von Stroheim) and his aide walk through the door. The transition is disconcerting. It is difficult to know where we are. A different gramophone dominates the right side of the frame and the observant viewer will notice that right behind it there is a poster on the wall — in German! Stroheim throws back a brandy with his stiff, unbending posture. Note how Renoir parallels this action in the scene when Boeldieu dies.
Another dissolve and we are looking at the countryside through the window of a train. In a few seconds we land on a sign which reads, “Prisoner-of-War Camp Nr. 17 — Officers’ Camp.”
The prisoners are lined up in a courtyard. Captain Boeldieu (Pierre Fresnay) and Maréchal both yawn. The camp regulations are read. A humorous bit of business occurs towards the end of the commandant’s long list of “forbidden” actions: an older German officer begins to intone “strictly forbidden, gentlemen!” in German, after the commandant recites the rules. Maréchal — amused — repeats the German phrase to Boeldieu, ironically.
We meet a Frenchman, a Jew named Rosenthal (Marcel Dalio) who is opening a large parcel from home, stuffed with delicacies which — as we will see in a few frames — is better food than what the Germans are eating.

GERMAN OFFICER #1: “This tastes like an old sock.”
GERMAN OFFICER #2: “What do they feed the French?”
GERMAN OFFICER #3: “Cabbage. But they have their parcels.”
GERMAN OFFICER #1: “And the Russians?”
GERMAN OFFICER #3: “Cabbage roots. But no parcels.”
GERMAN OFFICER #2: “And the English?”
GERMAN OFFICER #3: (in English): “Plum pudding!”

Cartier (a fantastic Julien Carette) is crawling through the escape tunnel the prisoners are digging. Something is happening outside, and one of them pretends to go to the latrine to check it out. He runs into the German officer, Sgt. Arthur (Werner Florian) who is accompanying a detail carrying a dead body on a stretcher. Arthur informs him that the man was shot trying to escape.
After getting rid of some tunnel dirt in the garden (a scene reprised in John Sturges’ The Great Escape [1963]), the men gather around a trunk of feminine clothing. A young, angel-faced soldier is talked into trying on a dress. “Funny, isn’t it?” he repeats as he preens.
But no one is laughing. Renoir gives us a gorgeous, slow leftward pan, revealing face after face of these women-starved men, stunned with shock at the sight of this beautiful “woman.”
Renoir pulls the camera back as we see the men working on their “costumes.” Note how he never lets the scene become static — everyone is busy with their work, and the dialogue flows naturally.
As the conversation winds down, the fifes begin to play outside. From a tight shot, he pulls the camera back as the men huddle around the window. He is shooting from outside the window now. Very effective composition.
Cartier’s shtick when he burns the pants he was ironing is hilarious.
After a FTB, we see a poster proclaiming a German victory at Douamont (the date would be February 26, 1916) …
Later, Maréchal interrupts the variety show with the news that the allies have retaken Douamont. He orders the band to play The Marseillaise. Gabin moves towards the edge of the stage and glares ferociously at some German officers, as the surging patriotic feelings from the song swell up in the background. Michael Curtiz seems to have been inspired by this scene in his 1942 film, Casablanca.
Elision: Maréchal is in solitary. We aren’t given any explanation, but it will later become clear that he probably was caught trying to escape.
Yet another poster: “German Troups Recapture Douamont” (April 17, 1916) …
[note all the parallelism in this film!]
MONTAGE of the train ride to Wintersborn … another parallel.
Another multilingual conversation:

RAUFFENSTEIN: (showing a large gun): “We have 25 more guns like this one.”
BOELDIEU: “Uh-huh.”
RAUFFENSTEIN: “I suppose you know the Maxim gun?”
MARÉCHAL: “Very well, sir.” (He jabs a finger towards his broken arm.) “But personally, I prefer the restaurant!”
RAUFFENSTEIN: “Touché … Maxim.” (He suddenly switches to English.) “That reminds me. I used to know a girl there in 1913. Her name was, ah — Fifi.”
BOELDIEU: “So did I!”

Rauffenstein is showing off the impossibility of escape:

“A 120-foot drop!” (He has inadvertently told them the exact amount of rope they will need!)
BOELDIEU: “So kind of you to show us around the grounds.”

The five new roommates are discussing the diseases of the different classes (Rosenthal caught something from a “brunette” who was a friend of his mother!)

ROSENTHAL: “We’d each die of our own class diseases, if war didn’t make all germs equal.”

Rosenthal has some kind of hand-made map. Maréchal comes over to see it. Notice the detail in the set design! Renoir pulls back the camera ever so slightly, and we suddenly notice a new character on the right side of the frame — a Black man, who is working on some kind of wood burning art.
The map will become an important artifact much later. Kurosawa was inspired by ideas like this.

ROSENTHAL: “That means walking 15 nights on six lumps of sugar and two biscuits a day.” Again, prefiguring a future scene …

Maréchal is braiding a long section of rope. The lookout alerts everyone that the guards are coming to search the room. Boeldieu hides the rope outside the window.
Inspection. Notice the way Renoir handles this scene; he creates a dramatic entrance for Rauffenstein. Six guards enter the room. The camera faces the door, and remains there until all six guards have walked past. He then pans left to Maréchal reading, while a guard searches his pillow. Reading from a book:

“I am weary as a girl after 22 nights of love.” “Twenty-two nights of love. Imagine that!”

The camera pulls back slightly and pans to the next prisoner, who is also reading a book. The guard taps his leg and he lifts them, allowing the guard to search his blanket.
Another leftward pan and we settle on the Teacher (John Dasté) and his guard, who makes him stand up and inspects the stool he was sitting on.
The camera pans left again, to a guard who is just standing there. Suddenly his expression changes and he snaps to attention and barks: “Achtung!”
The camera now pans right, as Rauffenstein makes a dignified entrance. “Continue!”
A conversation that would never occur in the next world war: Boeldieu rises as Rauffenstein approaches. They salute each other:

RAUFFENSTEIN: “Give me your word that you’ve nothing in here against regulations.”
BOELDIEU: (for a split second, Boeldieu offers up the tiniest of smirks [after all, the rope is hanging outside the window and is — truthfully — not “in here.”]) “You have my word.” Raufffenstein bows slightly and salutes … “But why my word and not theirs?” He indicates the others with a shake of his head.
RAUFFENSTEIN: “The word of a … Rosenthal … and a Maréchal?”
BOELDIEU (firmly): “It’s as good as ours.”
RAUFFENSTEIN (not convinced): “Perhaps.”

FTB. Boeldieu and Rauffenstein are in the Prussian’s chapel-like large room, conversing about their mutual acquaintance, Boeldieu’s cousin, the Count. Notice the way that the two are virtually mirroring each other’s movements — the walk, the cigarettes, etc. And then a perfect parallel of the previous search scene, with a bit more detail:

BOELDIEU: “Why did you make an exception of me by inviting me here?”
RAUFFENSTEIN: “Why? Because your name is Boeldieu, career officer in the French Army, and I am Rauffenstein, career officer in the German Imperial Army.”
BOELDIEU: “But my comrades are officers, as well.”
RAUFFENSTEIN: “A Maréchal and a Rosenthal, officers?
BOELDIEU: “They’re fine soldiers.”
RAUFFENSTEIN: “Charming legacy of the French Revolution.”
BOELDIEU: “Neither you nor I can stop the march of time.”
RAUFFENSTEIN: “Boeldieu … I don’t know who will win this war. But whatever the outcome, it will mean the end of the Rauffensteins and the Boeldieus.”
BOELDIEU: “We’re no longer needed.”
RAUFFENSTEIN: “And don’t you find that a pity?”
BOELDIEU: “Perhaps …”

Boeldieu’s plan is to stage a concert (the arts are “allowed”) with flutes and anything the prisoners can bang on …
Another lovely composition. Maréchal on the left, Boeldieu on the right, and in the center a large cage with a squirrel within. Both Gabin and Fresnay have lots of cute business with the little fella.
Just as Boeldieu predicted, the prisoners are lined up in the yard after their cacophonous concert. Roll call. Boeldieu’s name is called; no response. We hear a flute. Maréchal and the others look up, trying to locate the source of the sound.
Cut to Rauffenstein, also looking for the culprit. The camera pans the walls of the fortress, and finds Boeldieu sitting on a beam, playing his flute.
(Kosma’s score kicks into full gear here (wonderful!)
All hell breaks loose. Cut to Maréchal and Rosenthal tying their rope to the window. Rosenthal goes first. Renoir ratchets up the tension by having Maréchal hide behind a post, as some guards walk by. He then makes it down, and the two men scurry off into the night.
Where did they go? Eight minutes of film will elapse before we discover what happened.
Cut to the guards, shining a spotlight on Boeldieu. He taunts them with his flute. They begin to fire at him.
Cut to Rauffenstein, hearing the gunfire. He is alarmed. He arrives on the scene and tries to reason with Boeldieu — in English!

RAUFFENSTEIN: “Have you really gone insane?”
BOELDIEU: “I am perfectly sane!”

After several warnings, Rauffenstein shoots him. Guards arrive to inform him about the escape. He leaves, moving past the camera, which does a quick rack-focus on the soldier who remains in the frame. Brief, but beautiful.
Cut to a disconcerting ECU of a box which contains religious paraphernalia (a crucifix, two candles, etc.) … the camera stays close on the man holding the box. He is wearing a crucifix and German “iron cross.” He turns, as Renoir pulls the camera back a bit to reveal Rauffenstein and his aide. The priest puts on his coat which has a Red Cross armband on it.
A lot of filmic information to absorb in a few seconds. Why a priest? Renoir is conveying that Boeldieu is not yet dead, but seriously injured.
Last line from his deathbed:

“For a commoner, dying in war is a tragedy. But for you and me, it’s a good way out.”

Rauffenstein gets up for a drink. Boeldieu dies. Rauffenstein closes his eyes and gets up and goes to the window, where he prunes a dead bloom from his plant.
Renoir now turns away from everything and everyone with whom we have spent the past hour or so. The film now becomes a duet, a trio … a quartet …
Another disconcerting cut to a woman walking down a country road with a white horse.
Renoir can be devilish with his set-ups. Here he pans 90 degrees right and stops — we expect to see our heroes. We do not. But momentarily, we hear Maréchal’s voice:

“We should’ve avoided the road.”

The camera now pans downward and we find the two men, huddled in the tall reeds.
There is a lovely axial cut here, where the medium shot turns into a close-up.
Again, some clever presagement:

ROSENTHAL: “He’s gone.”
MARÉCHAL: “What? Didn’t you notice it was a woman?”

(It’s impossible to tell for sure if this is Elsa (Dita Parlo) or not, but this bit of dialogue reverberates later then they are lucky enough to stumble upon a house with only a woman and a child in it.)
Rosenthal has a bad leg and is in obvious distress. Maréchal offers him his sugar ration. There is not much left. He gives the sugar to Rosenthal, who catches on and realizes that Maréchal has been doing without, saving what’s left for the crippled man. Maréchal is returning Rosenthal’s previous kindness when he shared his parcels.
The journey continues. Rosenthal is resting, holding up his bad leg and balancing himself with a staff.

MARÉCHAL: “You coming or what?”
ROSENTHAL (starting to walk): “I’m doing the best I can.”

They trudge along. Suddenly, some spectacular scenery comes into view. Watch carefully! Rosenthal seems to take a moment to appreciate the beauty. He turns his head, taking it all in, despite the misery.
The companions are starting to get testy:

MARÉCHAL: “You and your foot!”
ROSENTHAL: “It’s not my fault! I slipped.”

Immediately after this line, Renoir holds the camera on the scenery, as the two men pass the camera.
Cut to a new view of a sloping mountain. The men re-enter the frame. The tension bursts:

MARÉCHAL: “You slipped! That’s all I hear. If you get us caught, you’ll explain you slipped? We’re out of food. Might as well give up now.”
ROSENTHAL: “Gladly. I’ve had enough too.”
MARÉCHAL: “Had enough of me?”
ROSENTHAL: “Damn right! If you only knew how you make me sick!”
MARÉCHAL: “Well, the feeling’s mutual. You’re a dead weight. A ball and chain. I never could stomach Jews!”
ROSENTHAL: “A bit late to realize that! Clear out, you’re dying to.”
MARÉCHAL: “You said it!”
ROSENTHAL: “Get lost! I’m sick of your ugly mug!”
MARÉCHAL: “I’m going! You’re on your own now! So long! (Maréchal leaves.)
ROSENTHAL: “So long! Go ahead! (he raises his staff above his head) … “I’m so happy I could sing …” (singing): “There once was a little steamboat / which had ne-ne-never gone to sea …”

Cut to Maréchal, who continues the song:

“After five or six weeks at sea / the supplies were al-al-almost gone for good.”

He gradually stops singing, realizing the ugly reality of the last line. Note the camera’s hold on the countryside, as Gabin walks out of the frame again!
Cut to Rosenthal, sitting, forlorn. He is centered perfectly in the frame. Suddenly, Maréchal appears, only his torso in the frame.

ROSENTHAL: “Why’d you come back?”

The camera pans up to Maréchal’s face.

“Come on. Let’s go, fella.”

He tenderly helps Rosenthal to his feet, as they exit the frame. Renoir again holds on the background for a second …
DISSOLVE to yet another scenic backdrop. Maréchal is helping Rosenthal along, as they trudge up a steep hill.
The richness of all that follows would not have been as powerful if Renoir had not taken the time to give us the men’s travels and travails.
They arrive at Elsa’s little cottage house. They hide in the barn. They hear something. Maréchal stands ready with a big club. A cow walks in … followed by Elsa, making her entrance in the film at the 1:34 mark (she’s billed second in the credits!)
Because the cultured Rosenthal can speak German, they can communicate with Elsa.
FTB. Picture of Elsa’s dead husband, killed at Verdun.

ELSA: “The table’s too big now”

… as Renoir’s camera moves to the big table, which could seat eight — finally revealing little Lotte (Little Peters, who died of the flu just weeks before the film was released).
Maréchal’s duet with the cow:

“Relax, it’s only me! You don’t mind if a Frenchman feeds you?” (he gives the cow a firm pat) … “you smell like my grandfather’s cows. A good smell.” (he lets out a little laugh) …
“You’re a good cow from Würtemberg and I’m a working man from Paris, but we can still be pals! You’re a poor cow. I’m a poor soldier. We each do our best.”

Again, he gives the cow a little thump. He leaves the barn. But Renoir keeps the camera on Bessie. She lets out a loud moo.
Renoir gives us some important information in a throwaway line. Elsa asks Maréchal to get some water in German. Rosenthal quickly translates, but Maréchal says he understood her.

“For 18 months I never understood the guards. But her, I understand!”

Thus we know how long they were imprisoned.
FTB. They have constructed a little manger for Christmas. Rosenthal has carved some potatoes into little toy figures …

ROSENTHAL: “Isn’t my little donkey cute? And my ox? And the infant Jesus?” He smiles broadly, turning towards Maréchal: “An ancestor of mine.”

They’ve been there awhile now. The attraction between Elsa and Maréchal is evident.
They’ve bid each other “bon soir.” He and Rosenthal enter the bedroom and close the door behind them.
CUT. We see that there are two connecting rooms. Maréchal closes the door to his own room and picks up a little apple from the bureau, which he begins to eat. (The music swells.) Just as he reaches the other door — still open — Renoir shows us his mastery of composition …
The camera is behind Maréchal with Elsa, beautiful in black, is just above Gabin’s right shoulder. He walks towards her, slowly. They embrace, and …
FTB. (this is the only example in the entire film where we run into a rough splice, not corrected in the restoration.) The “swelling” music of the love scene is brutally interrupted by a new cue … faster, jaunty.
FTB. The men are talking just outside the house. Maréchal can’t bring himself to tell Elsa that they are leaving. Rosenthal volunteers to do it.
He enters the house and speaks with Elsa. He then opens the window, revealing Maréchal. Note the composition! The open window is like a painting framed within another painting!
They say goodbye. The men disappear into the darkness and Renoir cuts back to Elsa, putting away the dishes.
FTB. Huge snowy mountains. The camera tracking here is virtually identical (parallelism) to the previous scene when we first spot the two men in the ditch by the reeds! Ninety degrees to the right and then downward, where we find the two men in deep snow. Even the conversation is similar — about whether or not to leave this spot or wait until it gets dark …

MARÉCHAL: “We’ve got to end this war and make it the last.”
ROSENTHAL: “Don’t count on it”

How prescient!
CUT to German soldiers, following the tracks in the snow. One of the soldiers points. Others raise their guns. A few shots are fired before the sergeant tells them to stop firing — they’ve already reached Switzerland.

SERGEANT: “Don’t shoot, they’re in Switzerland.”
SOLDIER: “Good for them.”

Final shot: the two men are trudging through a field of virgin snow.

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