The hardworking staff at Mid Century Cinema has been engaged with a number of off-site projects recently, including an appreciation of Wim Wenders for the New Left Review, a very exiting feature revisiting Three Days of the Condor for the spring issue of Cineaste, and a long-form take on Bertrand Tavernier’s Guerre sans Nom (The War with no Name), a documentary about French veterans of the Algerian War.
Researching Guerre sans Nom, for the pilot episode of a prospective new quarterly column, “A Cinema of Dissent,” which the network brass at a major studio invited for submission (keep your fingers crossed—the big money is in syndication), reminded us of one of MCC’s mottos: Never. Enough. Tavernier. The great French filmmaker, spellbinding raconteur, and voracious cinephile, was, not surprisingly, thrilling company (as reflected in the flood of testaments that followed his death in 2021, such as those by Martin Scorsese and Volker Schlöndorff). And over the course of a career that spanned five decades, Tavernier not only directed dozens of feature films, he also served, prodigiously, as an insatiable historian French and American cinema; the former illustrated in his late career landmark My Journey through French Cinema (2016), which was followed by a ten part television series, Journeys through French Cinema (2017-18). As the director recalled, “I had wanted to be a director since the age of thirteen, and both [Jean Pierre] Melville and Claude Sautet went to see my parents, who wanted me to study law and politics, to tell them they should let me work in film.” (Jeez, where were those guys when I needed them?)
In that spirit, although we have already written about Tavernier on numerous occasions (including a modest MCC retrospective on the occasion of his seventy-fifth birthday), another round seemed in order. In particular, revisiting his oeuvre inspired us to whip up one of our unquestionably definitive and invariably arbitrary Top Ten lists (though about the first four entries there can be no doubt—tolerance does have its limits). And please don’t flood the call center with complaints—there were an additional dozen fine features carefully considered for the final three spots on this list. With that, here it is, MCC’s BT T10:
The Clockmaker (1974) Featuring Philippe Noiret (who would become the director’s go-to on-screen alter ego) and the marvelous Jean Rochefort. We have written about this one extensively, declaring it “one of the great films of the 1970s.” Christine Pascal, with a small role in this, her debut feature, would become a Tavernier regular and emerge as a writer-director.
Round Midnight (1986) Another one of our favorite movies, Midnight has already received the MCC treatment. And yet a new round of research yielded two new-to-us gems from the director. Regarding one moving exchange, he observed: “The dialogue was so poignant that I had to shoot it in a medium long shot, since a close up would have been redundant and invasive.” And we are still mulling his suggestion that Francis was “partly the cause of Dale’s death, unconsciously.”
Life and Nothing But (1989) Philippe Noiret and Sabine Azéma navigate the gloomily aftermath of the First World War. Perhaps no other feature so well demonstrates how Tavernier can bring to life – with pressing contemporary meaning – events from the distant past. The entire MCC staff raced out to screen this, which David Thomson lauded as “a second masterpiece” (he counts A Sunday in the Country as the first), on release at the now shuttered Cleveland Circle theater.
Safe Conduct (2002) One of the great films about the occupation, Safe Conduct observes the choices made by those who worked under the Paris-based, Nazi-run Continental films. A thoughtful, thrilling drama that elicited some controversy as it drew on the experiences of well known figures in the industry. Recommended as well as a fascinating double feature with Clouzot’s Le Corbeau.
A Sunday in the Country (1984) Roger Ebert well-describes Sunday as a “graceful and delicate story about the hidden currents in a family,” centered around a painter in the winter of his years, and the “buried depths of disappointment with his life.” “To find comparable attention to the subtle forces within a family,” Ebert adds, “you would have to turn to Yasujiro Ozu.” Praise doesn’t come much higher than that.
Daddy Nostalgia (1990) Dirk Bogarde (in his final film performance) alongside Jane Birkin (as his daughter). Do we need more than that? Well, we get more—from this “warm, melancholy film” that “disregards plot in favor of nuance.” Co-written with Colo Tavernier, with whom Bertrand collaborated extensively both during and long after their marriage.
In the Electric Mist (2009) Mist eludes easy summary, and not just because it was released in two very distinct versions, and this interview with Tavernier is not what we’d call clarifying. In any event, featuring Tommy Lee Jones and John Godman (and look for nifty turns by Levon Helm, Buddy Guy and John Sayles), it is perhaps an oddity, but we’re all in.
The Judge and the Assassin (1976) Tavernier’s third film, with Noiret yet again, here supported by Isabelle Huppert and Jean Claude Brialy. A late nineteenth century legal drama set against the implicit backdrop of the Dreyfuss Affair, the director yet again positions himself at the intersection of history and politics, in a narrative saturated with moral ambiguity, and once again “inspired by actual events.” This “reflective, exquisitely detailed film,” was nominated for six César awards, taking home three.
The Princess of Montpensier (2010) Our favorite of Tavernier’s many distant period pieces. Set in the sixteenth century, Princess reimages historical events that took place during the French Wars of Religion. Our notes are full of praise for the performances, cinematography, and the way the movie combines an impressive commitment to verisimilitude while at the same time gesturing subversively at a nascent proto-feminism.
Spoiled Children (1977) In which screen legend Michele Piccoli takes a turn as the director’s alter-ego. The action, as it were: a filmmaker rents an apartment in an effort to overcome writer’s block, has an affair, and becomes involved with the local tenant’s movement—that last bit, at the very least, drawn from Tavernier’s own experiences. Co-written by and co-starring Christine Pascal. Spoiled Children slips into the top ten ahead of any number of other favorites due to its especially personal nature.
