I was blunt : strictly for export goods. This does not mean French domestic box office was not healthy : the foreign market for made in Provence delicacies starts North of Valence, if not Avignon.
However local they may seem to a casual viewer, these films, shot back-to-back in 1986, are two more cases of French film production parroting Hollywood.
They are, no doubt, Claude Berri’s films and Claude Berri is, no doubt, first a film producer.
Some critics would go further and claim Claude Berri is nothing but a film producer. I might agree, were it not for his film adaptation of Marcel Aymé’s « Uranus » : a very enjoyable and wry look at a French village under German Occupation, particularly after swallowing two glasses of whisky right before the screening. I was sober, when I watched « Jean de Florette » and « Manon des sources ». This was probably a mistake.
(Truth be told, even without « Uranus », Claude Berri would not be only a film producer but also the happy father of boy wonder Thomas Langman. Such father, such son : Thomas is also an actor-writer-director-producer. French cinema is blessed for such a family.)
Though French producers rarely put their own money at stake, they usually like to play it financially safe. Both films were therefore based on eponymous books by Marcel Pagnol, one of those few writers able to combine decent cultural credentials and popular appeal.
Star power, or even over-power, provided the crucial icing on the two cakes. As subtlety is often lost on large and dim-witted audiences, the films stars courageously overacted and made a caricature of themselves, so that their talent be recognised and not spent in waste.
Montand’s and Depardieu’s phoney Marseilles accents drew rave reviews. Emmanuelle Béart was at her pouting best. Absurdly, Daniel Auteuil tried to act and save his character from silliness, probably because he was not a star yet.
Last but not least, came the icing on the icing : the « clichés ». Both « Jean de Florette » and « Manon des Sources » offer generous helpings of them to make both films irresistibly sweet, i.e. tasteful, to a non Provence-educated palate.
All viewers that enjoyed the films shall be warned to stay away from Provence. If they disobey, they shall never get off their air-conditioned bus, except maybe in Baux de Provence and Saint-Rémy for so wonderful overpriced souvenirs and postcards.
To be fair -which is not the point-, similar criticisms could be aimed at Pagnol’s famous and celebrated Marseilles trilogy : « Marius », « Fanny » and « César ».
Some were, in this very blog : Depardieu’s accent cannot be phonier than Pierre Fresnay’s ; even at her pouting worst, Emmanuelle Béart is a decorative and acting improvement over pathetic eyesore Orane Demazis ; as to Montand, his overacting is no match Raimu’s, but who would blame the Marseilles actor for being so much « bigger than life » ?
The Marseilles trilogy nevertheless became untouchable classics.
So, could my American friend be a visionary and Claude Berri’s duet on their way to a similar status ?
Hard to believe. Time may heal many things, but neither the director’s heavy-handed touch, nor the films lack of all spontaneity and freshness. « Jean de Florette » and « Manon des Sources » shall remain two big pieces of dead wood, with no trace of the springs of clear water which are the basis for their stories.
Provence’s and Peter Mayle’s admirers would better take a look at a couple of slightly more recent and lower-key efforts, also based on Marcel Pagnol’s books, his childhood memoirs : « La gloire de mon père » and « Le château de mon père ».
However sentimental, full of nostalgia and clichés, Yves Robert’s films look like a diet, bio-and eco-logical version of Claude Berri’s and include a fair share of local talent, particularly Philippe Caubère, and accents.
« Mr. Bean’s holiday » takes place mostly in Southern France and includes a sequence where a fake TV spot is filmed by a full-of-himself director played by Willem Dafoe. In an interview, Rowan Atkinson described the TV spot as full of « Jean de Florette’s clichés ».
Claude Berri’s could not hope for a better and more deserved homage.