‘Hôtel du Nord‘ (1938) is the middle film in a trilogy created by Marcel Carné during the late 1930s and early 1940s—a trilogy that established him as the master of the ‘poetic realism’ genre. As in the other two films of the trilogy, the story centers on characters from the fringes of society—men and women who have had little luck in life and who seek solace in impossible romantic entanglements. It is the only film in the trilogy that does not feature Jean Gabin, and the only one for which the screenplay and dialogue were not written by Jacques Prévert. This latter absence is somewhat palpable; the adaptation of Eugène Dabit’s novel suffers from verbosity and theatrical pathos—even though the dialogues were penned by Henri Jeanson, a prolific and highly regarded screenwriter of the era. Nevertheless, in terms of cinematic aesthetics and emotional resonance, ‘Hôtel du Nord‘ approaches the caliber of the other two films in the trilogy.
The Hôtel du Nord is located on the outskirts of Paris, along the banks of the Canal Saint-Denis, which is spanned by picturesque bridges. The restaurant is almost always filled with regulars from the working-class neighborhood or the occasional visitors, while the hotel’s few rooms house a diverse cast of characters and activities that skirt the edge of the law. Among the permanent residents are Monsieur Edmond—a man who is simultaneously menacing and charismatic—and his mistress, Raymonde. One night, the hotel becomes the setting for a dramatic event. A young couple—Renée and Pierre—rent a room here with the intention of committing suicide together, driven to despair by their inability to cope with life’s obstacles. Their plan fails, and the young man is charged with attempted murder. Is there any hope left for the couple? How will those around them react to this tragedy?
Comparing this film to the work produced more than 20 years later by the filmmakers of the Nouvelle Vague leads to some surprising conclusions. Marcel Carné was a master of the very production style that these young rebels would later criticize, despise, and strive to replace. Although the Hôtel du Nord actually existed and looked exactly as it appears in the film, the shooting did not take place on location; instead, it was filmed in a studio, where the setting was meticulously reconstructed at a significant production cost. The script is theatrical, and the actors were directed to adhere to it strictly—the complete opposite of the improvisational freedom granted to actors in Nouvelle Vague films. Yet, even within their critiques, these later filmmakers could not help but appreciate the quality—and even the authenticity—of the visuals. Filming in a studio allowed for a masterful use of light and shadow, imbued with an expressiveness and drama reminiscent of the finest works of German Expressionism. At many points, the camera displays a mobility within the expansive studio space that anticipates the techniques the Nouvelle Vague directors would later employ while filming on the streets. The element that brings this film closest to the works of its successors is the wide array of human archetypes—the naturalness and vivid, colorful quality of the supporting characters within whose world the onscreen drama unfolds. It is one of those films where the backdrop and the atmosphere (a key term for this picture) are more compelling than the story itself. Louis Jouvet crafts a character who seems to be a precursor to the gangsters or corrupt cops found in the American and French films noirs of subsequent decades—one wonders, did Humphrey Bogart ever see this film? Playing opposite him is Arletty, in a role even more intriguing than the classic “prostitute with a heart of gold” archetype. Paradoxically, the main characters feel somewhat less vivid—though Annabella was a major star at the time, and watching her, one can easily see why. ‘Hôtel du Nord‘ remains a film of interest even today, and not just for those passionate about the history of cinema.