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France 1998
Reviewed by Ginette Vincendeau
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
Provincial France, the 30s. Garris and Riton live in a marshland near a small town, doing such odd jobs as busking and selling flowers, frogs and snails. Riton drinks too much and would be unable to provide for his wife and three children without Garris, who settled in the area after World War I. During a brawl in a café, Riton unwittingly provokes boxer Jo Sardi, leading to the latter's imprisonment and ruining his career. Sardi vows to kill Riton when he comes out of jail.
Meanwhile, Garris and Riton lead their uneventful lives. They occasionally meet their learned bourgeois friend Amedée in town and visit an old lady with him. They befriend Pépé, a rich industrialist of modest origin, also from the area. The men bond despite their differences. Garris falls in love with young housemaid Marie, but she leaves town. Sardi comes out of jail looking for Riton. Pépé tries to warn Riton but dies of exposure in the snow. Sardi is on the brink of killing Riton when Riton's young daughter pushes Sardi into the lake. Riton saves Sardi's life and the two are reconciled. Garris leaves the area.
Given the hit-and-miss rules that govern the distribution of French films in the UK, Les Enfants du marais may owe its release to the casting of former Manchester United footballer Eric Cantona as boxer Jo Sardi. Indeed, Cantona, here in a small but pugnacious part, will not disappoint his fans. Most of his appearances in the film show him ranting, kicking or threatening. Yet the film as a whole operates in a gentler, nostalgic mode.
Director Jean Becker has had a long and varied career in French mainstream cinema and advertising, directing (among others) a couple of Jean-Paul Belmondo adventure thrillers in the 60s. Over here, he is better known for the Vanessa Paradis/Gérard Depardieu drama Elisa and the psychological thriller L'Été meurtrier/One Deadly Summer. The latter was also scripted by thriller writer Sébastien Japrisot, here adapting a book by Georges Montforez. Becker's new film, however, has none of the suspense and plot twists typical of Japrisot's work. It is a nostalgic throwback to the cinema of Becker's father, the great Jacques Becker, director of the 50s classics Casque d'or and Touchez pas au grisbi (the French title, Les Enfants du marais, also recalls Marcel Carné's Les Enfants du paradis, 1945). The films of Becker père celebrate the old-fashioned values of popular communities and male friendship. Becker fils includes a knowing gesture towards his father when Garris in voiceover rants against his incompetent friend Riton - whom he will, however, never abandon - echoing Jean Gabin's fuming words about his own infuriating friend Riton in Touchez pas au grisbi. Alas, Jacques Gamblin (who plays Garris) is not Jean Gabin, Jean Becker is not Jacques Becker, and the values celebrated by Children of the Marshland seem stale and contrived rather than warm and vibrant.
The setting is, unusually for a French film, rather vague and the unidentified marshland underexploited, despite many references in the dialogue to the importance of nature and the seasons. Equally, the period is evoked only superficially (there is talk of Hitler at an engagement party). The flashback to the end of World War I and its trauma (a topic on which Japrisot has written a very good book) is promising but not followed up. The main problem, however, lies in the central couple of Garris and Riton. The casting unites good-looking, melancholy Gamblin with roly-poly comic Jacques Villeret (of Le Dîner de cons fame). It's a classic combination of types but the pair's antics are neither really funny nor very moving. And where the misogyny of male bonding was understated in 50s cinema, here it acquires a virulent twist. Women appear very rarely, but when they do they run the gamut of negative female stereotypes: Riton's wife is pure nagging harridan, Marie a coquette, Jo Sardi's girlfriend a faithless slut, Pépé's daughter a repressed killjoy. Meanwhile it's hard to find Riton's alcoholic slob charming or Garris' loyalty touching, and a moot point whether singing horrendously out of tune and catching hundreds of frogs are the most endearing pastimes, let alone spectacle.
André Dussollier as Amedée and, especially, Michel Serrault as Pépé are two of the film's saving graces, injecting warmth and subtlety into their flimsy characters, and Cantona cuts quite a dashing figure. In this respect, Becker's film does evoke classic French films and their roster of wonderful secondary roles given space by an unhurried narrative. Otherwise, in trying to recreate not only a period (the 30s) but also a type of film-making (the classic humanist French film), Becker has produced what is perhaps inevitably an unsuccessful pastiche of both.