Yesterday I saw my first Sarah Bernhardt feature at the French Cinémathèque. I wished I had not...
Jeanne Doré (1915, Louis Mercanton & René Hervil) with Sarah Bernhardt, Raymond Bernard and Jeanne Costa
Jeanne Doré (S. Bernhardt) is a widow following her husband's suicide. He was a gambler and left her destitute with her son Jacques. Some years later, Jacques (R. Bernard) is infatuated with a married woman Fanny who is a spendthrift...In 1913, playwright Tristan Bernard who specialized in comedies wrote a melodrama for Sarah Bernhardt. He wanted to give his young son Raymond Bernard (the future director) his first chance to play on the stage. Raymond Bernard describes in great details his encounter with Sarah Bernhardt in her house in Belle-Isle-en-mer (an Island off the coast of Brittany). It's a hoot and if you understand French, you should listen to Bernard's interview on the
Ina website. He remembers how one day he received a shower of Sarah's tears on his head. She had to do it she said because the prime minister was in the public! Tristan Bernard wrote a play that is pure hokum. It contains all the worst clichés you can expect in the worst melodramas. The widowed mother who survives to raise her son and the son becomes a criminal for the love of a married woman. This kind of story properly treated on the screen can be great. But, alas, Mercanton just records some static shots of Sarah either sitting or standing against a wall. It has to be remembered that in 1915, Sarah had one leg amputated and couldn't walk anymore. As a result the film is shot around her. She sits on a chair near a table with a bell she can ring to call the servant. Or either, she is propped up against a wall or some furniture. The film's structure is so dated it looks like a pre-1910 movie. We get long static scenes in long shot with lengthy titles explaining in advance what we will see next. There is never any attempt to create some suspense or any sophistication in the lighting. The studio scenes are incredibly flat. The outdoor shots are hardly better. The acting is pretty atrocious most of the time. And the screening yesterday was peppered with guffaws. Sarah motionless on her chair raised her arms and her eyes skywards while a young and slim Raymond Bernard gesticulated with gusto. Some sequences were really a hoot like when Jacques is pursued by two policemen. He disappears on foot through a bush and instead of following him, the policemen take their bikes. By 1915, French and American movies had reached a sophistication that is nowhere to be seen in this particular film. It does very little credit to a stage legend. This Eclipse picture is truly a museum piece. I really wonder what made Sarah Bernhardt such a darling of the public. My only guess is probably her voice: her declamatory tone was very peculiar and must have charmed the public. But this film must be avoided if you want to preserve her legend...