La Chienne | Criterion Blu-ray Review

Popular discussions of Jean Renoir tend to highlight his most renowned titles from particular periods of his career, though his greatest contributions and considerable reputation rest mainly on a handful of iconic titles from the 1930s, such as his early masterpiece Boudu Saved From Drowning (1932, remade several times in French and English, including by Paul Mazursky with Slums of Beverly Hills), and Grand Illusion (1937, notably the very first entry in Criterion’s esteemed collection). Many of his titles have been remade, and often by significant auteurs like Fritz Lang, Luis Bunuel, and Paul Bartel—and yet, an indelible humanistic streak still resides in his bitter remonstrance of the cruel dismissiveness of bourgeois culture and the dissatisfaction it breeds on both ends of the spectrum. Criterion resurrects his sophomore film, 1931’s La Chienne, which indicates a female dog (or, rather, The Bitch), a nasty commentary on class and social divisions. Based on a novel by Georges de La Fouchardiere (which was also adapted more famously by Fritz Lang in the violent 1945 film noir Scarlet Street featuring Edward G. Robinson and an iconic Joan Bennett), Renoir manages to elicit sympathy for its somewhat pathetic characters, caught in a sordid social joke where victimhood and instigation are cruelly twisted.

A Punch and Judy show opens the film, explaining the story we are about to see is neither a comedy nor tragedy, and neither is it a morality tale (though eventually, this seems to be facetious statement). Maurice Legrand (Michel Simon) works as a cashier, unhappily married to Adele (Magdeleine Berubet), who belittles the wannabe painter on a daily basis. When he sees a young woman, Lulu (Janie Marese) being abused on the street by Dede (Georges Flamant), he attempts to intervene, not realizing she is a prostitute and Dede is her lover and pimp. Instantly enamored with her beauty, he becomes her immediate benefactor, hoping eventually to be her lover. Since Adele demands he throw away his paintings, he gifts them to Lulu, and Dede peddles them under a pseudonym, eventually creating something of an art-house sensation. But Maurice only cares for Lulu, and is devastated when he discovers they are merely taking advantage of him, leading to a tragedy which will devastate all three players in this unhappy love triangle.

Although Lang’s version of Fouchardiere’s novel remains a bit more provocatively visceral (less so with his remake of Renoir’s La Bete Humaine, which he mounted with 1954’s Human Desire), the focus of La Chienne nearly always prizes the perspective of Michel Simon’s hapless painter Maurice Legrand. He’s treated despicably by everyone, taunted by co-workers and verbally abused by his harpy of a wife, who is the most exaggerated villain here, a full on harpy played malevolently by Magdeleine Brubet. When we learn her first husband conveniently didn’t return after the war to escape the clutches of his marriage, it becomes unclear who the title may be actually referring to, Adele or Lulu. Both women are on either side of the heteronormative possibilities of romance, the wife and the mistress, and both exact a vicious cruelty by their false pretenses. Legrand is a buffoon, but we can’t help but sustain a degree of empathy for him, assisted by the ironic final moments, which makes Fouchardiere’s narrative feel similar to the sort of cultural tethers displayed in stories by Guy de Maupassant.

Renoir’s DP, the German born Theodor Sparkuhl, captures some wonderful rain-soaked frames, such as the introduction of Adele’s husbands in the rain, the shop window veneer behind Legrand closing felicitously on his past life, as if to signify, when a one door closes….Then, during the grand reveal, when Legrand can no longer look past Lulu’s relationship with Dede after he stumbles upon them in bed together, the camera suddenly veers outside Lulu’s apartment, looking in through the curtains, as if the audience has become so complicit in Legrand’s shame we have to run outside in embarrassment.

Several real-life instances have also bled into the fabric of La Chienne, particularly concerning Janie Marese, who’s casting (demanded by the studio) upset Renoir’s wife at the time, which resulted in their divorce. Reportedly, Simon also developed feelings for Marese, who instead began an affair with co-star Flamant. Shortly after filming, she died in a car crash when Flamant lost control of their vehicle during an excursion on the French Riviera. She was only twenty-three years of age.

Disc Review:

In this newly restored 4K digital transfer, Criterion presents the title in its original aspect ratio 1.19:1 with uncompressed monaural soundtrack. Picture and sound quality are superb, taken from the original 35mm negative with phenomenal visual resolution (the detail in the interior sequences of the Legrand apartment, for instance). Best of all, the disc also includes Renoir’s first sound film, 1931’s On Purge Bebe, a feature which was made to prove his competence with sound in order to secure funding for La Chienne.

1961 Introduction:
This introduction to La Chienne by Jean Renoir aired on French television January 1, 1961. He confesses it was not an easy film to make, and explains why he had to prove he could make a talkie and stay under budget with his first sound film, On Purge Bebe.

Christopher Faulkner:
In this 2016 interview recorded in Ottawa, Jean Renoir scholar Christopher Faulkner discusses the auteur’s transitions from silent film to talking pictures and how La Chienne was a significant juncture in his filmography.

On Purge Bebe:
This hour long feature is Renoir’s first sound feature and is based on a comedic one-act play by Georges Feydeau, starring Michel Simon. It’s a dialogue heavy comedy of manners (the English translation of the title is Baby’s Laxative) and certainly feels more frothy than what we’d eventually become accustomed to from Renoir.

Jean Renoir le Patron:
This ninety-five minute feature is one part of a three part television series made in 1967. This segment was directed by Jacques Rivette, the second portion of the series, and features an after-dinner conversation between Renoir and Michel Simon concerning their collaborations, moderated by Rivette.

Final Thoughts:

Beautifully shot and as provocative now as it was in 1931 (the film was banned in the UK and was not screened in the US until 1975), La Chienne is one of Renoir’s most cynical portraits of humanity (later outdone by The Rules of the Game, 1939).

Film Review: ★★★★/☆☆☆☆☆
Disc Review: ★★★★/☆☆☆☆☆