Delicatessen

Butcher Self
In My Position

Delicatessen
Directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet
and Marc Caro
France 1991
Studio Canal
Blu Ray Zone B

I remember when Delicatessen got released in the UK... it was early January 1992 and one of two absolutely amazing French movies released within a week of each other over here. It was around the time of my 24th birthday so both these movies, the other being Bertrand Blier’s astonishing Merci La Vie, were films I went to see in celebration of said birthday, being as I was a student in London at the time. The mid 1980s to the mid 1990s were an absolutely golden era for foreign language films at the cinema in the UK and three places I could regularly keep up with these wonderful, first run foreign language releases were the magnificent Lumiere cinema on St. Martin’s Lane, the Metro on Rupert Street and, as a last resort because their screens were much smaller but, they always had the films on at the tail end of the run in case you missed any, the Swiss Centre just off Leicester Square. None of these three cinemas are still in existence, in case you are wondering. I think I first saw Delicatessen at the Metro but both this one and Merci La Vie were seen by me a few times at different cinemas. Unfortunately an English subtitled Blu Ray of Blier’s film is not yet forthcoming... bit annoyed about that as the DVD release wasn’t as good an English translation on the subtitles as the cinema prints and VHS tape.

Delicatessen was a surprise, sleeper smash (more prints were quickly struck for the UK market) and was filmed by a duo of film makers billed as Jeunet and Caro. The former would, of course, continue to make cinematic history, especially with his other big smash hit ten years later, Amélie (aka Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain review coming soon).

And it’s a bizarre, surreal film which plays like a black comedy involving some kind of post-war event where a small delicatessen and the people who live in the flats which are part of it, are struggling to survive. It could easily be the 1940s because the visual aesthetic of the film (and various audio and visual references) certainly fit in with that period... or it could be the far future. The time setting is deliberately left vague but there’s definitely a post-war vibe to the whole thing.

The film follows the arrival of a new handyman at the flats, Louison, played by the always watchable Dominique Pinon. He is an ex-circus performer trying to make ends meet after his partner, Livingstone the monkey, was eaten by hungry survivors of... whatever has happened. He falls in love with the butcher’s daughter Julie, played by Marie-Laure Dougnac, who tries to warn him, unsuccessfully until he’s being attacked with a meat cleaver, that her father... played in a wonderfully comic book style by Jean-Claude Dreyfus... murders newcomers in the night so the tenants of the flats, played by a wonderful and diverse cast of actors giving laugh out loud funny and surreal performances, can eat the new tenants who come their way, rather than sacrifice one of their own. Everything is payed for in corn and lentils, the currency of this struggling world.

It’s a film which plays like a kind of Heath Robinson contraption of comical moments and vignettes edited together into unlikely sequences... which, I think it would be fair to say of pretty much most of this writer/director’s filmography and it is, it has to be said, an absolute joy to watch. Who can forget the sight of Julie playing her cello with Louison accompanying her on his musical saw. Or the lovemaking scene where the sound of the straining springs on a bed set the rhythm for a raucous sexual metaphor of a montage of various tenants accompanying them with comical antics of increasing pace. Or the comical and elabourate suicide attempts of one of the neighbours, who keeps getting accidentally saved by her own incompetence. Or the wonderful dance with bubbles which Louison performs for the kids on the stairway landing. Or the faction of vegetarian ‘troglodytes’, waging war against those who live above the surface. Or even... well let’s just call him ‘the frog man’ and leave it at that.

The films is witty, enchanting and has a style which absolutely draws you in to this magical world the directors have created. That this was a debut feature is remarkable... the film is so risky and confident... with its ‘dark fairytale’ vibe, where everything is played for comedy value but with a warm, beating heart at its centre.

The colours, too, are absolutely amazing. Hard to describe but like pastel tones which have been given extra colour saturation to achieve a warm, rich look. My one gripe being that I’m not totally sure I trust this new Blu Ray master by Studio Canal (a company who I dislike these days more than I used to... the 1990s was a time when I welcomed their logo at the start of a film). In the blurb at the front of the Blu Ray, one of the restoration features it lists is that they’ve ‘harmonised the grain’. I dunno, maybe that’s why, on Blu Ray, the exterior location looks like what I now realise was just a big, internal set. I mean, the ersatz is always a problem on Blu Ray restorations anyway but this sounds like something which maybe could be taking things a little too far... I need to find out what this is all about, for sure.

Either way though, Delicatessen is one of the greats of French cinema, that much is certain. It’s an absolute treat for anybody who appreciates the cinematic arts and, frankly, an essential film in my book. If you’ve not seen this you might want to run, rather than walk, to your earliest opportunity to get some eyeball time with this wonderful movie. I saw it multiple times when it came out at the cinema and, if it weren’t for the fact that I have to keep watching different things to keep this blog going, I would be watching it multiple times on Blu Ray still. This is, after all, the third format on which I’ve owned this film... anybody remember the superb Electric Picture VHS box set back in the 1990s? Still got mine!