The fact that Jacques Tati’s Play Time flopped financially and bankrupted its director into never making a film again is proof that pushing the boundaries of what a film can look like and how it can make you feel requires a bit of risk taking and perhaps, even a bit of an ego. In 1968, Play Time was a film that nobody seemed to want, but Tati had the urge to tell the story (or non-story) and ended burying himself in the process. I suppose that’s what artists need to do sometimes. It’s too bad it has taken all of these years for this masterpiece to finally be recognized as the achievement in fimmaking it truly is.

It’s important to note that I went into Play Time with little to no knowledge of what the film was about or the history of the production. I knew it had comedic elements and I was aware of Jacques Tati’s re-occuring role as Monsieur Hulot; a clumsily endearing, mostly silent, possible prototype for Rowan Atkinson’s Mr.Bean. While Tati’s previous films focused on Hulot, Play Time uses him in moderation. He is one member in a cast of dozens whose motivations and actions are ultimately driven by the “modern” architecture and technology that surrounds them. Paris has been paved over and metallized. Any signs of the old world exist only in the form of tourist souvenirs and brief reflections in the constantly opening and closing ultra-chic pane glass doorways.

The film is separated into six sequences, all contained within a twenty four hour period. Although many of the characters wander in and out of these segments, M. Hulot, along with a young American tourist, seem to be the connective tissue. There isn’t really a plot per se, but rather a sequence of situations: a group of tourists attempt to navigate a modern airport while M. Hulot becomes lost in an office building and accidentally makes his way on to the floor of a trade exhibition, after which an old friend invites him to his apartment for a drink. Eventually all of the characters end up attending the opening night of the Royal Garden restaurant as its owner and architect attempt to deal with some shoddy workmanship and a series of technical flubs. It’s like a comedy as seen through the eyes of Caden Cotard; right down to the multiple Hulot’s and an open faced apartment complex with only giant planes of glass separating the tenants intimate ongoing’s from the outside world. This design choice allows Tati to play an entire 15 minute scene from the street, looking in on M. Hulot’s visit, with only the sound of cars and the occasional pedestrians passing by. It’s that sort of confidence that probably doomed Play Time out of the gates, but can now be looked at as a bold choice that succeeds in overcoming any accusations of self-indulgence. There isn’t a single close up in the film and many scenes, like the apartment sequence, are filmed from a distance.

The choice to film Play Time in the 70mm makes way for some amazing wide angle shots filled with numerous characters acting out multiple miniature stories at once. Add Hulot to the mix and you’ve got a Where’s Waldo?-esque complexity that finds you scanning the screen to pick up on the sometimes simultaneous sight gags that are littered throughout the film (Something that probably worked even better on the big screen). Audio also plays a huge role in Play Time as Tati uses goofy sound effects for both comedic effect and to help identify the action in some of the wider, more complicated shots. However, I must say the true star of Play Time is the design. When Terry Gilliam is engaging in sexual intercourse with his wife, it is my belief that 50% of the time he is thinking of Jacques Tati’s Play Time. It seems clear to me that this film may have been a major influence on Brazil, and the DVD introduction by fellow Monty Python-er Terry Jones seems to support this theory. It truly is a beautiful looking film. I was blown away to discover that the entire city — minus the exterior of the restaurant and the final shot of the film — was constructed as a set! This certainly answered my somewhat naive questions regarding the real life architecture of Paris. I’m really not sure how this film could’ve been made any other way. I don’t think I’ve seen a movie that so heavily depends on the interactions between its characters and sets. The choreography of the comedic set pieces are directly connected to the meticulously detailed surroundings. Right down to the bar stools, neon signs and door handles; everything is designed to work practically, look great and serve the overall choreography.

With a brand new blu ray release, this is one film that benefits in many ways thanks to a strong high definition transfer. Criterion has put together a great package, with a sharp and brilliant picture, great audio and a good collection of supplements that touch on the troubles Tati went through in getting Play Time on the big screen.

A wonderful film and a sincerely amazing experience. — Jay C.

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