It's striking to me that as the new cinematic medium was growing, and new techniques and ideas being developed and explored, even late-period silent pictures found novelties that help them to stand out as we watch. Or maybe just as much to the point, even if a notion had already been in use for a few years, given such rapid and significant growth over a relatively short timeframe the ingenuity and excellence may nonetheless mesmerize both in and of itself, and especially for what broad preconceptions we have of early movies. And so it is here as filmmaker Jean Grémillon plies us with instances of shot composition that feel fresh and inventive (even if they're not, specifically), and frankly ahead of their time in their artfulness, and orchestrates the engaging, full scenes of Alexandre Arnoux's screenplay with considerable detail and vivaciousness. Not to be outdone, cinematographers Christian Matras and Georges Périnal, and editors Emmanuel Nicolas and Henriette Pinson, carry out their work with an apparent equal mind for swift, dynamic, lively flow and bedazzlement; capable as all their contemporaries were, comparatively few are those pictures that come to mind from the 1910s or 20s to have infused similar vibrancy in the fundamental construction. On this basis alone it doesn't take long before 'Maldone' begins to impress, and in fact in my opinion these and other strengths only build as the length advances. For many reasons this doesn't necessarily have the same visibility as many of its kin, yet as far as I'm concerned it's a terrific feature that deserves much more recognition even almost 100 years later.
In the vaguest of terms there are perhaps familiar strains in the narrative as protagonist Olivier is compelled to leave behind the life and woman he loves, but that past is ever present in his mind nonetheless. Yet in addition to robust, flavorful, absorbing scenes that fill out that narrative with abundant garnishes, the sharpness of the writing is reflected even in the intertitles. Whether conveying exposition or dialogue, the language chosen for each card carries a vivid, poetic sensibility that stops just shy of being "charged"; if words could be as alive as a moving image, these would be. And this is to say nothing of underlying themes to present in the story - nor the marvelous hard work of everyone else working on the production. André Barsacq's sets are truly incredible to behold, crafted with obvious care and attention to the overall tenor of the movie and bursting with as much detail and vitality as any other component on hand. The costume design, hair, and makeup are all lovely, and arguably more balanced and natural than was the case elsewhere in the silent era. And speaking of natural, my commendations to the cast. One recognizes in much of early cinema a penchant for exaggerated expressions and body language, ported from live theater and also utilized to compensate for lack of sound and verbal dialogue. Only in bits in pieces in these early years, and certainly following the advent of talkies, did acting come to be characterized by the more realistic and nuanced performances modern viewers see everywhere. It's a tremendous credit to Charles Dullin, mononymic Annabella, Genica Athanasiou, and all others in front of the camera that their portrayals are marked by that more subtle, measured quality, invariably making 'Maldone' all the more pleasing to watch.
Really, this title is stupendously well made in every capacity. With every shot and scene we're greeted with a treasure trove of rich visuals of every type, and what I feel to be rather remarkable creativity and intelligence, to keep us actively engaged. And still I can't help but return to the skill and splendor of the most rudimentary building blocks. Throughout the runtime the image before us is defined by a moving camera, close-ups, overhead shots, and low camera angles; substantial and meaningful use of light and shadow, dimensions and perspective, and even shifting focus within a single shot; nevermind quick cuts and sequencing. It may well be that these facets had already been in play in the film industry before Grémillon, Matras, Périnal, Nicolas, and Pinson, and for my part I can indeed think of other (preceding or contemporaneous) examples in some regards. Be that as it may, the inclusions here never feel forced despite their plenty, are exercised with meticulousness and expertise, and bear a brilliance as they present that stuns as if (or maybe actually for) the first time. And as if all this weren't enough, the superb craftsmanship for this compelling tale is rounded out with excellent (sparing) effects, and boasts such exemplary integrity in the basic image - clearly having not suffered from the ravages of time, and/or benefited from the very best restoration - that even minutiae that sometimes gets lost in other early pictures (such as text on a piece of paper that's shown to the camera) is as distinct as if we were holding it in our hand. I cannot overstate how immensely well made this is!
I can understand why silent movies don't appeal to all comers; I'd have said the same of myself at one time. Earnestly worthwhile, enduring classics know no limitations, however, and for my money this holds up as well as any of its more widely renowned brethren. With exceptional contributions of every manner helping to give form to a story that's already enjoyable on its own merits, I don't know what else to say except that I absolutely love 'Maldone,' and I think it's an underappreciated must-see. I can only give my highest, heartiest recommendation; whether you're a particular fan of silent flicks, or of French cinema, or just looking for something good to watch, this is well worth seeking out!
