by Allan Fish
(France 1937 107m) DVD1/2 (France only)
Aka. The Pearls of the Crown
Worthy of Scheherezade
p Serge Sandberg d Sacha Guitry, Christian-Jaque w Sacha Guitry ph Jules Kruger ed William Barache, Myriam Borzoutsky m Jean Francaix art Jean Perrier
Sacha Guitry (Francis I of France/Jean Martin/Barras/Napoleon III), Lyn Harding (Henry VIII/attendant), Jacqueline Delubac (Mary Queen of Scots/Françoise Martin/Josephine), Ermete Zacconi (Pope Clement VII), Marguerite Moreno (Catherine dei Medici/Empress Eugenie), Arletty (Queen of Abyssinia), Jean-Louis Barrault (Napoleon), Marcel Dalio (Abyssinian minister), Barbara Shaw (Anne Boleyn), Claude Dauphin (Italian in Abyssinia), Raimu (industrialist), Émile Drain (Napoleon I), Rosine Deréan (Catherine of Aragon), Simone Renant (Madame Dubarry), Yvette Pienne (Mary I/Elizabeth I/Victoria), Derrick de Marnay,
David Thomson once said of Sacha Guitry; “as actor, or sheer presence, Guitry is an unashamedly charming tyrant, a Napoleon by way of Lubitsch.” The analogy is perfect, and never fit better than when referring to this wonderful curio from 1937. At its heart, it’s merely a series of loosely connected vignettes and observations, but as critics have observed, what vignettes they are!
Essentially, what we have here is the ultimate historical shaggy dog story. Guitry looks up from his pile of books to tell his wife and lifelong collaborator Jacqueline Delubac the tale of the four pearls on the crown of England. He takes Delubac, and the viewer, back to 1518, and the age of Francis I of France, Henry VIII of England, Pope Clement VII and Lorenzo dei Medici. He tells of how there had once been two pearls, and how the Pope sent the paramour of a young, convent-raised Catherine dei Medici on the impossible task of finding five more pearls of identical proportions and value. The problem is, find them he does, necessitating his being sent away for “a very long rest” and the pearls are then made up into a necklace, which finds it way eventually into the hands of Mary Queen of Scots. It’s then stolen by thieves, who make off with three of the pearls, but four are saved and passed to Elizabeth I, who hides them away in the hidden panel of a casket, where they remain hidden until the age of Victoria, who orders them set on the corners of the crown.
So much for four of the pearls, and it’s then, at around half way, the plot returns to the present and the efforts of three people – Guitry, plus an Italian Papal ambassador and an English equerry – to find the missing three pearls. It’s this very cosmopolitan nature of the film – with the French, English and Italian cast members speaking their native languages – that makes it so unique, as no other film did it half so successfully. Guitry also has a wonderful way with actors, and though he manages to put himself into centre stage a few too many times, he gives ample time for various cast members to shine. Pienne has the honour of being the only actress to play three different English queens regnant (and does it in the same film!), while old Lyn Harding memorably repeats his blusterous turn as Henry VIII from the silent days. There are priceless cameos from Barrault as an enamoured Napoleon, Arletty as a black-painted Abyssinian, gibberish-talking queen, complete with python and a top that consists of two shells covering her breasts. Chuck in the ever welcome Raimu, hag for all seasons Moreno as – who else? – Catherine dei Medici (both Guitry regulars), an uncredited de Marney as various Englishmen and, of course, Guitry himself as Francis I, and you cannot help but enjoy yourself. Needless to say, however, the greatest riches lie not in the visual technique, but the script, including such, ahem, pearls, as Clement VII’s hilarious stop-start death scene and a hiccoughing old dear handing down a priceless heirloom. The symmetry to the plot meanwhile looks ahead to Ophuls’ Madame de…, overcoming natural scepticism to prove itself a film unlike any other, full of Guitry’s particularly unique civilised whimsy. Like Queen Victoria, finding the pearls in the casket and uttering “we are amused.”
Interesting that you say that the film is a kind of forerunner to Ophuls’ classic. I haven’t seen the film, but I see nothing has changed with your great writing Mr. Fish.
Great essay here Allan, I’ve been dying to clear up some time to see a few of these ever since that Eclipse box came out, of which this film is included.