The first minutes are outwardly simple to the point of being ham-handed, yet I deeply admire the shrewd means by which they actually serve to smoothly introduce us to characters and establish the setting. Mixing in touches of the more common expository techniques we see in the silent era, the film deftly lays the foundation for a tale of poverty juxtaposed with fine living, kindness and cruelty, lightheartedness and dour human drama, the mercurial whims of public perception, and the unreason, arbitrariness, and corruption of the "criminal justice system." There's further underhanded but cutting commentary in the basic human amenities afforded to prisoners, essential needs which the average person is made to pay for in their own lives and sometimes can't afford. Yet for all the themes and ideas that 'Crainquebille' broaches with surprising fullness, all these and many more, it does so briskly in a runtime well under the modern norm for full-length feature. Moreover, one can easily imagine how the same story threads might be approached and significantly expanded upon if Anatole France's tale were adapted in the twenty-first century, yet for however tragic or infuriating the picture may be in turn in this 1922 rendition, it maintains a certain sprightly quality that keeps the proceedings from becoming wholly mired in the more downbeat moments.
All this is to say that from a fundamental standpoint of the writing - dialogue (as related through intertitles), scenes, characters, and the narrative at large - this movie is unexpectedly smart and calculated, with all parts bent toward spotlighting the major thoughts underlying the plot. I can only congratulate filmmaker Jacques Feyder for such sharp intelligence, which extends also to his orchestration of shots and scenes as director, infusing each with a small spark to keep us handily engaged. Assembled as well with some clever instances of cinematography, editing, and otherwise visual effects, 'Crainquebille' is characterized by a gratifying level of wit and skill across the board, down to the excellent costume design, makeup, and sets. To that point, the cast also demonstrates commendable nuance in their acting, and it's a pleasure just to watch them ply their trade. It's only natural that Maurice de Féraudy should stand out most as the title character, but it's no mistake that he was given the lead role, for he brings the man to life with a completeness and vitality in his performance that's most welcome; meaning no disrespect to his co-stars, de Féraudy definitely takes the spotlight (if anything second only to the screenplay).
The end result of all this, I'm happy to say, is a silent classic that's highly enjoyable even as it dallies with timeless themes that are quick to make the blood boil - enjoyable, and very satisfying. The tale may be relatively straightforward and unsophisticated, yet by all means it's all that it needs to be to keep one solidly invested. Why, more recent films with all the advantages of big budgets and huge star power sometimes struggle to attain so strong a measure of emotional depth and impact as this readily does. The absolute heartfelt sincerity of the production, storytelling and film-making alike, shines through from start to finish, not least in the exquisite last few minutes. I can understand how some modern audiences have a hard time abiding older features, and I'd have said the same myself at one time. But good movies are good movies, no matter their age, and this is one that holds up tremendously well 100 years later. It perhaps isn't so remarkable as to totally demand viewership, yet whether one is specifically a fan of the silent era or just looking for something good to watch generally, Jacques Feyder's 'Crainquebille' is an exceptionally well done, absorbing slice of early cinema that continues to stand tall on its own merits. If you have the opportunity to check it out, this is well worth anyone's time.
