The Wanderer

I've been lucky enough to see this film three times - I once made a 200 mile return journey in an evening to see it at one of its rare screenings - and would watch it again and again if only it were ever screened. It captures perfectly both the dream quality and the desperate tragedy of Alain-Fournier's novel.

The film has haunted me for 30 years, since I first saw it at the age of 13.

If you spot it at your local arts cinema, go and see it.

Come on someone, release the subtitled version on video. After a long and arduous search, I managed to buy the non-subtitled version, but there must be a big enough English-speaking market to make it worth someone's while.

*The unsubtitled version is available at http://www.priceminister.com **Apparently, the subtitled version is available from the Connoisseur Video Collection of Ingram International Films (1-800-356-3577) for $79.95. It's 108 minutes long, VHS format, French with English subtitles.

If you know the book, the film is the fair answer to yours expectations. For performances, off course, for cinematography- just seductive- , for the grace and for the atmosphere - dreamy , delicate, seductive in profound sense. But, more important - it is magic. And this word has many senses in this case. Because it is just a film who you feel it as seed growing up, decades , in yourself , as memories. So, just special, memorable and so near to a personal experience.

After years of looking, I found the DVD of Le Grand Meaulnes sitting on the shelf in Virgin Megastore on the Champs Elysees in Paris. It seems to have been recently published. It's in French of course and without sub titles but if you know the film, then you know the book too and don't need the English. There is some biographical material about Alain-Fournier on the DVD plus the original cinema trailer (and even a bonus second DVD, La Fille aux Yeux D'or, also by Albicocco).

I saw the film of Le Grand Meaulnes back in 1973/4 and again sometime during the Eighties at a London screening. It is still as fresh, original and magical now as it was then. In some respects, the 1972 Nicholas Roeg film of Don't Look Now, also a classic of its kind, has some echoes of this Albicocco masterpiece - mainly in the use of light and its effects, but also in some scenes: a red brooch is held to the light, the passing boats on the lake, Yvonne de Galais falling in the stream, the time shifts in the narrative.

I saw LGM in French with subtitles (and two years of high school French!). It felt like a pleasant dream (visual, ideas), and I remembered it quite well -- but I had forgotten the title. I described it to a French friend several years later, and he named it for me right away. If I see it advertised for a theatre again, I'll definitely go, now that my French is a little better and my appreciation of fantasy much enhanced.

The commentator who found only technical perfection in this film, but for whom a spark was missing, obviously hasn't lived with this masterpiece as I have, since it first appeared in 1967. I went to it the first time with the friend who had introduced me to the novel some years earlier, and we were both sceptical that it would be anything but a pastiche. At the end, we were both staring at the blank screen, tears rolling down our cheeks, certain we had seen something greatly out of the ordinary. It's a wonderful novel, the greatest French novel of the 20th century, and the film succeeds brilliantly in capturing as much of its magical and romantic atmosphere as could be expected. Seeing it again on DVD – though I've seen it many times in between – I find myself assailed by the same emotions. More than that, I am impressed by just how modern it feels. So many films from the 60s seem technically less fluent nowadays, but Le Grand Meaulnes seems as though made only yesterday. And where would a modern director find his Yvonne de Galais. In Maria de Medeiros, perhaps, but even she could hardly surpass Albicoco's Yvonne. What a plot, what performances, what a perfect adaptation.