DVDFile

The Criterion Collection / 1932/1934 / 392 Minutes / Unrated
Street Date: July 17, 2007

Some members of the Criterion club have been scratching their heads over this fourth installment of the studio’s new Eclipse line; After three sets of five or more films, why bother releasing a collection of just two Raymond Bernard films? But this pair of masterworks from a director who can arguably be described as France’s most underrated auteur makes up for any voluminous misgivings in spades.

Wooden Crosses (1932) is his most internationally renowned work. In a nutshell, one might be able to call it the French All Quiet On The Western Front (although this writer would call it a much more narratively ambitious work). And what stuns upon watching this newly-transferred version of the film on DVD is how prescient it still seems. Many older war films are admirable more for what they were aiming to accomplish at the time of their release than their palatable, emotional cinematic connection with modern viewers, but the you-are-there perspective that Bernard brings to Wooden Crosses gives the film a pan-generational gravitas.

Like Terrence Malick’s 1999 opus The Thin Red Line, Wooden Crosses is a film in which not a whole lot happens per se, but this inactivity concocts the inner world of the film’s story. Wooden Crosses is not a shoot-em-up, nor is it a particularly political film – it’s merely the story of a new-to-war young man (played with seemingly effortless charm and alternating wide-eyed terror by Pierre Blanchard) who gets acquainted with what really happens in a WWI trench.

And it’s this simple elegance that keeps Wooden Crosses from being trapped in the melodramatic histrionics of its day; shock at the terror of everyday wartime activity is as recognizable a trait today as it ever has been. The film is about death, and the gauge of death’s harshness and/or release as a uniquely scary facet of human life.

But as classic a film as Wooden Crosses is, it pales in comparison to Bernard’s exceptional interpretation of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables (1934). One can imagine the groans coming from the average viewing audience in announcing that the film is a 4+hour affair split into three parts (that's longer than the damned musical theatre version!). But trust me, this amazingly successful film is every bit as addictive and compulsively enjoyable as any other major cinematic drama of note.

The tale of Jean Valjean and his travails – from stealing a loaf of bread and going to prison for it to becoming a major member of Parisian society – may be so familiar to many viewers that you might think that it isn’t worth another peek (I know the story already…). But Bernard infuses enough savvy cliff-hangers and excellently-positioned plot reveals in his narrative that it’s easy to get sucked into the film’s world. Bearing witness, this writer popped the first disc in at around eight on a Thursday night and ended up staying up until 1:00 a.m. finishing it; it’s not the kind of work that makes you want to space it out.

So I suppose the question remains: if Raymond Bernard is really that much of a talent, why are his works not universally recognized alongside his fellow countrymen-artists of the day? Well, aside from a preference for uniquely canted shots, very little of his work (especially Les Miserables) is level as far as camera placement is concerned – he lets his stories stand front and center. Even Renoir’s Rules of the Game is both classically-told story and an avant-garde cinematic experiment. Bernard uses the language of film to get his stories across, but he seems to have little need for his camera’s aesthetic inclinations; any symbolism or visual motif is garnish for him rather than bread-and-butter.

But this fourth Eclipse release allows us to investigate his work nonetheless, and Series 4: Raymond Bernard – even without the bonus feature bells and whistles that typically comes with Criterion product – skyrockets toward the top of the list of best classic-film DVD releases of the year.

The Video: How Does The Disc Look?

Because of limitations with the source film elements and the transfer beyond Criterion's control, Eclipse digital masters aren’t up to the same high quality levels as many other Criterion releases. So it comes as no surprise that these 1.33:1 presentations aren’t great. Wooden Crosses is worse for wear than Les Miserables. Both films have scratches aplenty and dirt and grime, but Wooden Crosses has quite a few missing frames that unfortunately stand out like sore thumbs. But black levels are consistent and relatively strong, and fine detail quality – while obviously not optimal – is impressive considering the film’s physical state. Despite these criticisms we should be grateful to have these films presented to us at all.

The Audio: How Does The Disc Sound?

The French Dolby Digital mono tracks fare a bit better than the video presentations. While one shouldn’t expect all that much from early-'30s soundtracks, these really could have been a lot worse. Dialogue comes through fairly well, and Les Miserables’ musical score is always a treat to hear, even if it’s audibly mired by limited fidelity and mono tinniness. These mono tracks sound like you’d expect them to sound given the films' vintage.

Included are English subtitles.

Supplements: What Goodies Are There?

None.

Exclusive DVD-ROM Features: What happens when you pop the disc into your PC?

There are no DVD-ROM features on this DVD.

Final Thoughts

No, there are no bonuses, and audio and video qualities aren’t superb, but the vivacity of the two films are enough to merit a round of applause. And Criterion’s Eclipse line is even a bit cheaper than their typical releases – this three-disc edition has an SRP of $39.99, and believe me, even without the bells and whistles of an extensive release, this one’s worth its weight in gold. Highly recommended.