When you saw Hulot's Holiday, you got belly-laughs from Tati's portrayal of the Hulot personality. The whole responsibility of making the situations comic was his. But when you see My Uncle, the comedian Tati is solidly supported by script-writer Tati, and expertly guided by the director, also Tati. This makes for more humor, and subtler, and for a more acceptable cinematic whole.
Hulot is the same Hulot, same pipe, same coat, same well-meaning, bland incompetence. This time he comes to preposterous unintentional grips with post-war prosperity, the modern source of the bourgeoisie that the French have ridiculed for a hundred years. And his skill for satire, apparent on only a personal level before, is strengthened by the theme and enhanced by his fuller control of the production. Tati's broadside satire of the modern scene is sharp, and cuts particularly deep since in America there don't seem to be even any shabby unsuccessful humanists left for a comparison--everybody is like Hulot's ludicrous in-laws. But you're laughing so much that you don't feel the pain.
The in-laws live in a hyper-modern house, sterile as an egg-bin, where the garden is gravel and a robot polishes the floor. They try to get Hulot a job with the firm, they try to set him up with a neighbor widow, they try to reform him; they fail, of course. He makes sausages out of plastic hose at the plant, devastates their garden party, and transports their son on his fuming motorbike. The characters, in their smug posturings and ridiculous appearance, are like cartoon characters, as the film itself is a plotless continuity of cartoon-like situations. It is one of the funniest bunches of cartoons ever assembled.
Speaking of cartoons, there are some animated ones on the same bill, all UPA, that also are some of the best in their line. With them as a short subject, semi-cartoon, semi-surrealism, is a remarkable film in which designs and drawings have been painted directly on the frames of the film strip itself. It races by in wild color and sound like a fast dream, and is just as fascinating. Feature and shorts combined, the Kenmore this week is probably the best light film bill you will see in Boston all winter.
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