And here we are once again: whether or not other creators may have truly been first, we see in this 1923 feature an unmistakable artistry in the storytelling, and sharp film-making techniques, that seem novel and possibly advanced for the movie industry at this time. Discrete framing, pointed use of light and shadow, close-ups, multiple images laid over top of one another, employing curt cuts and sequencing to accentuate and foster tension - we get all this, and even instances of camera movement, and camera angles distinct from the plane of action. Whether or not other creators may have truly been first, it's altogether wonderful to see all this in Jean Epstein's 'Coeur fidèle,' elevating what is already a compelling story of a kind, hard-working man, a brute, and the woman who is desperate for a life of her own choosing. This film is marked by marvelous intelligence, skill, and care from the very start, and while it may not do anything to change the minds of those who have difficulty with the silent era, viewers who are receptive to early cinema will find much to love here.
The cast give fabulously adept performances capturing the strong emotions of the tableau, and ably passing on the same airs to the audience. Edmond Van Daële is unexpectedly unsettling as antagonistic Petit Paul, while the conflicting feelings of love, sadness, and determination weighing on Jean are given vivid life by Léon Mathot. I dare say Gina Manès rather outshines the both of them, inhabiting beleaguered Marie with a haunted expression and comportment that tugs fiercely on one's heartstrings. Not to count out any other part of these 87 minutes, but it's hard not to be especially impressed with the carnival sequence in the first half. I say this in part recognizing the power of the acting, but especially in light of the exquisite editing that helps this to be an a tremendous example early in the medium's history of scenes of merriment utilized to spotlight and indeed amplify a predominant dark mood. It can't be overstated what brilliance this scene demonstrates, which naturally reflects superbly on Epstein - and even at that, no part of the whole is truly any lesser.
The tale is just as engrossing in the second half as it turns even more dour, and the strength of every contribution remains just as vibrant. I can only repeat that the cast is great; as both director, and co-writing with his wife Marie (also capably co-starring in a smaller but pivotal supporting role), Epstein orchestrates shots and scenes - ever taking utmost advantage of those techniques noted above - that ensures every ponderous beat of the drama lands with all the force and impact that it can and should. Meanwhile, even the hair, makeup, and costume design lend considerably to the severity of the atmosphere, let alone the production design, art direction, and filming locations. Illustrating such round excellence, a moment in which Jean simply climbs a flight of stairs shows a level of care, ingenuity, and expertise that's plainly gratifying (as if anything herein did not provide ample like illustration). From top to bottom 'Coeur fidèle' is rather terrifically well made, and extra smart about every choice in its craftsmanship. Not least considering how magnificently well the title has been preserved in the past 100 years, frankly what ultimately comes across is that this matches or surpasses many of its contemporaries in every capacity, with outstanding detail in every way.
Before I sat to watch I surely expected that I'd enjoy this; I love silent movies. Still I'm downright enchanted with how stupendous it all is. Exceptional writing, direction, editing, camerawork, and acting, and all the fine work of those behind the scenes, result in an immensely absorbing drama that is much more than what it seems from the outside looking in. Every constituent element in and of itself makes this 1923 feature worth watching; taken all together, the sum total is exemplary. I can understand why early cinema doesn't appeal to all viewers, and I'd have said the same of myself at one time. 'Coeur fidèle' boasts a striking vitality, however, that far outshines whatever issues one might perceive with the standards of the time. Truthfully, it's even better than I could have hoped; from the unassuming beginning through to the suspenseful climax and a balanced, surprisingly thoughtful ending, I'm quite of the mind that this is outright masterful for its exhibition of film-making and story-telling prowess. It might take a bit of work to find this to watch, but if you're a fan of the silent era, this is more than worth the effort.
The cast give fabulously adept performances capturing the strong emotions of the tableau, and ably passing on the same airs to the audience. Edmond Van Daële is unexpectedly unsettling as antagonistic Petit Paul, while the conflicting feelings of love, sadness, and determination weighing on Jean are given vivid life by Léon Mathot. I dare say Gina Manès rather outshines the both of them, inhabiting beleaguered Marie with a haunted expression and comportment that tugs fiercely on one's heartstrings. Not to count out any other part of these 87 minutes, but it's hard not to be especially impressed with the carnival sequence in the first half. I say this in part recognizing the power of the acting, but especially in light of the exquisite editing that helps this to be an a tremendous example early in the medium's history of scenes of merriment utilized to spotlight and indeed amplify a predominant dark mood. It can't be overstated what brilliance this scene demonstrates, which naturally reflects superbly on Epstein - and even at that, no part of the whole is truly any lesser.
The tale is just as engrossing in the second half as it turns even more dour, and the strength of every contribution remains just as vibrant. I can only repeat that the cast is great; as both director, and co-writing with his wife Marie (also capably co-starring in a smaller but pivotal supporting role), Epstein orchestrates shots and scenes - ever taking utmost advantage of those techniques noted above - that ensures every ponderous beat of the drama lands with all the force and impact that it can and should. Meanwhile, even the hair, makeup, and costume design lend considerably to the severity of the atmosphere, let alone the production design, art direction, and filming locations. Illustrating such round excellence, a moment in which Jean simply climbs a flight of stairs shows a level of care, ingenuity, and expertise that's plainly gratifying (as if anything herein did not provide ample like illustration). From top to bottom 'Coeur fidèle' is rather terrifically well made, and extra smart about every choice in its craftsmanship. Not least considering how magnificently well the title has been preserved in the past 100 years, frankly what ultimately comes across is that this matches or surpasses many of its contemporaries in every capacity, with outstanding detail in every way.
Before I sat to watch I surely expected that I'd enjoy this; I love silent movies. Still I'm downright enchanted with how stupendous it all is. Exceptional writing, direction, editing, camerawork, and acting, and all the fine work of those behind the scenes, result in an immensely absorbing drama that is much more than what it seems from the outside looking in. Every constituent element in and of itself makes this 1923 feature worth watching; taken all together, the sum total is exemplary. I can understand why early cinema doesn't appeal to all viewers, and I'd have said the same of myself at one time. 'Coeur fidèle' boasts a striking vitality, however, that far outshines whatever issues one might perceive with the standards of the time. Truthfully, it's even better than I could have hoped; from the unassuming beginning through to the suspenseful climax and a balanced, surprisingly thoughtful ending, I'm quite of the mind that this is outright masterful for its exhibition of film-making and story-telling prowess. It might take a bit of work to find this to watch, but if you're a fan of the silent era, this is more than worth the effort.