TELEVISION
Piece de non-resistance
DOUGLAS JOHNSON
By its length (nearly four and a half hours), by its subject (the life of a French town, Clermont-Ferrand, during the German oc
cupation) and by the universal acclaim With which it has been received, The.
Sorrow and the Pity (Le Chagrin et la Pale) should be an important film. That it has been shown on BBC 2 while being boycotted by French television, that it has shattered cherished beliefs and caused some French people to claim that they are ashamed of being French, suggests that it is unusual.
It is what is often called a film-enquete consisting of a series of interviews with a Wide variety of people, and excerpts from the film archives. Its message is clear. The French were unenthusiastic about the war and seemed to have no idea why they were fighting. The overwhelming majority supported Petain and his armistice. Virtually no one heard de Gaulle broadcast from London in June 1940. Many of the French got on well with the Germans and some of them admired their army, seeing it as the sort of army which they had dreamed of Possessing. Everyone had one preoccupation, which was total: the need to find food. Very few were in the Resistance, but some may have joined (like Colonel Gaspar ') because they resented the Germans eating all the steaks in the restaurants. Those who were in Buchenwald thought only of saving their own Skin. Those who were in France sometimes thought only of their own pleasure and Maxim's was crowded every night. Above all, France is described as the only country in Europe which had an official government collaborating with the Germans. The picture is relentless in its detail. It is true that there are some few exceptions to its gloomy cynicism: the Auvergne peasant who was denounced and sent to a concentration camp knew who had denounced him, but when he came back he did not take any revenge ("What good Would it do? A quoi bon?" he asked); the British who worked with the French Resistance and who described the courage and the sacrifices of some of the French. But these examples tend to be lost in a host of telling images. There are the Paris police saluting as Hitler drives past, Mendes-France recalling the fury of the Women in the court-room of Clermont because he had not been sentenced to death as a deserter, Professor Levi describing how the French authorities were even more zealous in rounding up Jews than the Germans had asked them to be, and the old schoolmasters chuckling at the Suggestion that they should have resigned in collective protest when a Jewish col
league was dismissed.
No one can say that all this is false. It is a fact that the crowds cheered Petain and only a short while later cheered de Gaulle. But it is striking to reflect on the differences that exist between someone who is seeking to tell history by means of a film, and someone who is writing about the same subject. The author-historian might find it necessary to explain why he has chosen Clermont in the first place; he will certainly need to show how life in this town changed as the difference between occupied and unoccupied France was abolished towards the end of 1942; he will want to describe how the Resistance grew and developed in Auvergne; he will want to investigate politics, the church, the role of the local notabilities, day to day life; finally he must find out about the summary justice of the Liberation. But the film-maker can dispense with these obligations and disciplines. He can leave loose ends lying all over the place and claim to be realistic (as when the former cycling champion Geminiani said that you never saw Germans in Clermont, while the pharmacist said that you saw them all the time). The film-maker will follow any attractive image, so that while we are seeing good cinema and while it is fascinating to watch Mendes-France talk, we are not, in fact, learning about Clermont and the German occupation.
What is perhaps most alarming is the tricks which the film-maker can play. In this film, there is the contrast between the comfortable, complacent Wehrmacht captain, filmed on the day of his daughter's wedding, and the brothers Grave on their Auvergne farm. It is the peasants who are attractive and whom we want to believe. The more M de Chambrun is allowed to speak, defending his father-in-law, Pierre Laval, the less convincing he appears, and it is interesting to see for how long he is able to talk and how his anxious glances towards the camera are retained. Georges Lamirand, now the benign mayor of La Bourboule, dismissing the idea of Petain's national revolution as a mere slogan, is followed by shots of himself as a young, vehement minister, proclaiming that very revolution. As we watch the hairdresser who was condemned to fifteen years in prison for something of which she claims to be innocent, the camera shows us closeups of her fidgeting hands. We are left wondering about her. Yet all this is done in the name of objectivity. Indeed there is a false objectivity about the whole film, as it suggests that Vichy and the Germans committed atrocities, and then the Liberation also committed atrocities, so that everyone is about the same.
What is important is not to make exaggerated claims for this film. It is not a contribution to history. It is not a debate about politics or about Vichy, for all that one would like to intervene and ask Mendes-France, for example, why it should be that France is so prone to anti-semitism and anglophobia. Like all good films this film consists of the director's commentary on his chosen theme. The fact that he is discreet and that he does not force his opinions on us gives the impression that we are watching something which is uncontrived and natural. But the theme is there. We are presented with a number of individuals who have shared a common experience. We learn of their reactions, recollections, judgements, justifications, loyalties. We see how they differ in terms of personalities, situations, backgrounds.
The fact that it is all true, or apparently true, or partly true, makes it more dramatic, more immediate and more compelling. The element of history involves the audience. But it is a film, a form of art, a formal tragedy which has been created. It is not an audio-visual interpretation of history and in our assesment of its significance, we should remember this.
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