Jacques Tati loves intricate contraptions that require a lot
of set up before having all the gears click and letting his slapstick antics go
off like a well-oiled machine. Tati is reaching back to a tradition of comedy
more in line with Charlie Chaplin or Buster Keaton than anything recognizably
being made when his films were released. More precisely, in Mon Oncle, Tati’s
character of Monsieur Hulot feels like he belongs in a silent movie. He barely
has any lines and everything he does is conveyed through actions, gestures, and
sound effects. While the modern world wants to suck Hulot into its over-refined
ways he’s still stuck up in the clouds, always affably bumbling by. Other characters
have lines, notably Hulot’s sister and her husband, who are getting fed up with
Hulot’s daydreaming and aimlessness, and they feel like they could possibly
belong to the real world. Well, more than Hulot at least; Tati at times seems
to be working in caricature, but he really has an affection for the human
element underneath his calculated comedic machinations. There is a light bit of
satire regarding bourgeoisie pretensions, but Tati intends it as all in good
fun. Tati’s larger aim is to capture the rhythms of city life, using his
Hulot as a gateway into how work, play and everything in between are gone
about. Tati delights in a number of precisely arranged comedy setpiece and he keeps
the tone breezy and charming, but he’s reaching for deeper emotions of
melancholy and disappointment.
Grade: A
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