My Uncle

Tati's Oscar-winning movie has often been criticized for being the most conventional of his films. I am sure this is true, but on the other hand, there is still enough Tati inside this film to recognize it as one of his. And a touch of storyline and continuity can never be detrimental for a film, not even for a Tati. Actually, this is the most satirical Tati I have seen and therefore, in my opinion, the best. A true masterpiece, unbelievably full of ceative ideas. And I do not understand, how the Academy could award Mon oncle as best foreign film and at the same time completely ignore the tremendous production design.

Jacques Tati needs a statue in the movie history hall of fame. He will have it, eventually. As an actor, he created Monsieur Hulot, a sort of post-modern Chaplin, walking through the world as estranged and yet delighted, as a middle-aged ET. As a director, he did about the same thing, but added a visual brilliance, a classical sense for the absurd, and a lot of poetry.

Mon oncle, My uncle, is pretty much the manifesto of his artistic raison d'etre. The uncle, Monsieur Hulot, with his timeless, almost zen-like attitude to life, is contrasted by the successful bourgeoisie family, trying so hard to shine. What happens in the movie, is simply the little everyday absurdities rising out of this meeting of contradictions.

Tati makes fun of everyone, but in such a gentle and loving way, no one gets hurt. He is truly enjoying himself, when observing the little madnesses of modern man. There is no call for anyone getting really angry at anyone else.

Still, there are statements, and they are provoking if pondered. Tati probably succeeded in balancing the 1950's unreserved delight in consumer gluttony, with a bit of a taoist reconsideration as to the significance of it all. Without Tati and his movies, it is quite likely that we would have taken much longer in glimpsing the futility of earthly possessions, and that which has for the last half-century been called progress.

And contrary to many other movies of up to the same age, Mon oncle carries the years with just as straight a posture as the one of Monsieur Hulot. They should show this movie in the schools, so that all kids get to see it and reflect.

This is Tati's 'Modern times', a critical stab in the side of civilization and the changing of the times in Paris in the late 1950's... and it's absolutely delightful and disarming in its simple display of the absurdities of human behavior in relation to it. I vaguely remember watching this as a nine-year old... and 29 years down the track, it's a great realization to suddenly understand why Tati was regarded as a true movie-making artist. Watching this lovable gem of a movie is like watching a pastel painting elaborately (and slowly, so patience is required!) coming to life. Just watch that recurring shot where the crumbled brick wall borders the old-time, lively street to the new, sterile concrete apartment complex blocks. Symbolism at its best!

No laugh-fest exactly, but it's loaded with charm, both heartwarming and satirical, with an attention to sets, props and character detail that's quite amazing: the opening credits... the ubiquitous dogs, the street-sweeper, the vendors, the bar guests... and most importantly: the whole household (and garden!) of Hulot's sister! And finally, what about that accordion music score? It has to be one of the best in cinema history!!

8 out of 10 from Ozjeppe

A superior sequel to 'Mr. Hulot's Holiday', it has a more solid story, funnier jokes and some things to say about the coldness of modern technology this time round. The humour does not rely on the dialogue, as there is hardly any, but it does not rely on physical humour either. Instead, the puns come from the way in which Tati sets up the shots. The mathematical precision of certain sequences, and the way that the actors are positioned within the frame, are what is amusing. The jokes are much more subtle, not hand-delivered, and therefore there should be more that can be picked up on multiple viewings. One of the funniest scenes gives a building two moving eyes, thanks to a clever set design and great lighting. The art direction is simply excellent, the music is wonderful, and the timing for every shot is just superb. Not everything is brilliant though. The continuity is a bit off at times, no thanks to some awkward jump cutting, and towards the end the jokes become a bit repetitive and tiresome. There is also little plot, but there is certainly a satisfactory amount of storyline, it being an original take on the fish-out-of-water plot line. The supporting characters are silly, but they actually benefit the film here. Characters such as the neighbour show just how out-of-touch some persons are in the technology crazed world. This film may not be for every taste, but I simply found it delightful stuff myself.

The word I would use to describe this film is "amusing", not "hilarious"; "amusant" rather than "rigolo". It gently charms a smile onto your face. Only rarely does it bring out an actual guffaw (when M. Hulot is faced with his sister's kitchen, for example). Tati refuses to impose his own ideas of what is important on the viewer, which is usually done by spending more screen time on them or zooming in. The title (usually considered to be important) is a scrawled piece of graffiti which stays on the screen for less than 1/2 second, but there are long sequences showing M. Hulot's apartment. The viewer has to work to see Hulot appearing (apparently randomly) in the various windows of the building as he walks through it. I love the window which is inexplicably at foot level in which you can see Hulot's feet turn to the wall as the feet of a woman dressed only in a slip appear.

In other words, this film is a stroll where, if you keep your eyes open, you will spot some amusing things going on. And France is a great place for a stroll.

Two more things. While the comparison to Chaplin is apt, I was led to think of later characters, particularly Hrundi Bakshi in Blake Edwards' The Party and another almost silent character, Rowan Atkinson's Mr. Bean. Indeed I'm sure Atkinson stole ideas from this film.

Also, I think it is misleading to focus too much attention on M. Hulot's struggles with modern tech. The title, Mon Oncle, should direct our attention to the nephew, for whom Hulot is a parole from the prison of his sterile house, enabling him to run with the kids, get dirty, buy doughnuts from a grubby vendor who applies the icing sugar with a bare hand and play practical jokes on passers-by (with Hulot ready to cover for him if need be). Fifty years later these comments are even more biting as we look at a whole generation of children raised in this kind of inhuman antiseptic environment: overweight, with eating disorders and allergies, socially inept with only a TV and a video game for a friend. Makes a dachshund in a red coat want to run with the mutts and tip over a garbage can or two, doesn't it?