Mauprat (1926)
Directed by Jean Epstein

Film Review

Jean Epstein personified, perhaps more than any filmmaker of his generation, the extreme dichotomy that ran through the first few decades of cinema.  Epstein was first and foremost an experimentalist, one of the avant-garde pioneers of the seventh art who revelled in the opportunities for artistic expression that the new medium of the moving image offered.  But he was also acutely aware of the fact that cinema was destined to be the next medium of mass entertainment, and the prospect that his films would be seen by thousands, if not millions of people around the world excited him greatly.  With the line of demarcation between the avant-garde innovators and commercially minded exploiters now clearly established, Epstein was virtually unique in that he had a foot in each camp, and this uncomfortable duality runs through much of his oeuvre.

All this could explain why, when Epstein set up his own film production company in 1925, after several successful years working for Alexandre Kamenka's Film Albatros, he began by making a crowdpleasing period romp rather than some groundbreaking artistic oddity.  Epstein's adaptation of George Sand's novel Mauprat is as conventional-looking as any other film he made and has nothing to distinguish it from the other populist fare he made for Albatros, including Le Lion des Mogols (1924) and Les Aventures de Robert Macaire (1925).  It's a respectable mainstream mix of adventure, intrigue and romance, attractively photographed by Albert Duverger and with impressively authentic period sets supplied by Epstein's faithful designer Pierre Kefer.  Epstein's flair for innovation is, however, conspicuous by its absence, and even his trademark superimposition is used sparingly.  Mauprat is a film that was clearly intended to make money for Epstein's fledgling company, not to extend the boundaries of cinematic expression.

Mauprat may not be Jean Epstein's most interesting film but it is not without charm.  The location sequences are endowed with a special lyrical quality and possess that distinctive romanticism that illuminates much of Epstein's work.  (It's worth mentioning, en passant, that the main location, the little town of Sainte-Sévère-sur-Indre, would later become famous as the setting for Jacques Tati's Jour de fête).  The superbly edited sequence near the start of the film where Edmée loses her way in the woods palpably conveys the heroine's anxiety and anticipation over what may lie in store for her as she strays into uncharted territory.  The landscape can be either welcoming or intensely forbidding, depending on the camera angles and lighting.  Close-ups superimposed on wider shots are used repeatedly by Epstein to stress the heightened emotional states of his protagonists, an active mind trapped in a feeble, unresponsive body.  There are none of the grand stylistic flourishes that ignite Epstein's subsequent masterpieces; instead, the director surrenders himself to the exigencies of his plot and the expectations of his audience.

Conventional as the film appears to be, there is within it a streak of subversiveness if you care to look for it.  To what extent this is due to Epstein's assistant Luis Buñuel, here taking his first film credit (and briefly appearing on screen as an extra), is hard to say, but there is just a soupçon of Buñuellian mischief playing beneath the surface.  Notice how the male-female principal roles are subtly reversed, so that Sandra Milovanoff's Edmée de Mauprat becomes the proactive player in the drama, making Nino Constantini's 'enfant sauvage' Bernard look like a slightly run-down automaton.  Whereas Bernard often appears weak and effeminate (in some scenes you could easily mistake him for a woman), Edmée is consistently strong and decisive.  The film's proto-feminist slant doubtless owes something to Sand's original novel (reputed to be a reworking of Beauty and the Beast) but by 'butching up' the heroine and making the hero a spineless non-entity Epstein leaves us in no doubt as to whom he considers the stronger sex.  Or maybe he is just being teasingly post-modern.

Film Synopsis

Hubert de Mauprat is an ageing French nobleman who leads a quiet life at his castle of Saint Sévère in the company of his daughter Edmée.  The latter is engaged to the Viscount de la Marche, who is acting on the king's orders to drive bandits from the region.  Whilst out riding in the woods one day Edmée loses her way and ends up being captured by her father's wicked younger brother, Tristan, and his gang of outlaws.  Edmée escapes with the help of a member of the gang who introduces himself as her cousin Bernard.  In return for saving Edmée's life and honour Bernard extracts from her a promise to marry him.  When he is reunited with his daughter Hubert reveals that Bernard was an orphan who was kidnapped in infancy by his younger brother and brought up as an outlaw.  To repay the debt he owes his nephew, the old man offers him a place in his castle and attempts to make a gentleman of him.  Bernard proves not to be the easiest of men to civilise and his mood worsens when he realises that Edmée has no intention of honouring the promise she made to him.  During a fox hunt, Edmée sustains a near-fatal gunshot wound.  The uncouth, socially inept Bernard is the obvious culprit and before he knows it he is on trial, charged with trying to murder his benefactor's daughter...