And now for something different: La Règle du jeu

So I ended up going on a tangent from Project Old Hollywood. But some of the more interesting things in life you stumble upon by mistake. In this case I was searching for "The Rules of Engagement" on YouTube out of boredom, and found "The Rules of the Game." When I realised it was a French film that had nothing to do with Neil Strauss, that sealed the deal. I've been meaning to brush up on my listening skills before leaving for Tours in July (cannot wait, by the way).

"La Règle du jeu" (1939) is directed by Jean Renoir, who is indeed the son of impressionist painter Pierre-Auguste Renoir.

Look familiar? Le Moulin de la Galette (1876)

The film depicts and satirises the personal, absurd and trivial dramas and conventions of the French upper-class before WW2. In the insulated world of high society, everyone is having an affair that everyone else knows about. Ready? Aviator Andre Juriex is in love with Christine who may or may not return those feelings but is married to Robert de la Chesnaye, who knows about his wife's affair and has a mistress himself called Genvieve, of whom Christine is also aware of. And then there's the triangle between Christine's maid Lisette, her husband Schumacher, and Marceau the new servant. Oh, and Renoir himself plays Octave, who tries to mediate Christine and Jurieux's relationship whilst dealing with his own possible affections for the madame.

Complicated? Personally I enjoy a film that demands your attention and kind of forces you to keep tabs on everything. The web of he-loves-she-loves relationships culminates in a big hunting party at La Colinière -la Chesnaye's country estate -in which all kinds of confrontations take place (and lots of dead rabbits). Suffice it to say that chaos ensues and approaches farcical heights. One of my favourite lines is when la Chesnaye, mid-fistfight with Juriex, stops and says "Yes a revolver just went off, what do you expect?"

I would compare this film to Shakespeare's problem plays in that you don't really root for anyone and are left with a kind of uneasy, "ick" feeling at the end. It's hard to feel sympathetic towards any of the characters not because they're scheming liars, but more because they're bad at it -or equally good. They're either kind of pathetic or kind of slimy. There is no master manipulator or villain -cheating and lying are almost normalised to the point of convention so that the intrigue of plotting, self-interest or bad intentions is lost. Those who are kicked out of the house are therefore exposed not for their infidelities, but for their lack of etiquette and proper conduct. Renoir essentially cheapens the art of backstabbing in a way that leads you to dryly conclude, "poor little rich people."