Once upon a time I was very tired. More to the point, I was very tired in Montreal.
Julie and I were in Montreal for a child-free vacation, and we were so happy to have some time to ourselves we hadn’t done much planning. On arriving in the city we just looked around at what was going on, and saw that the Art Museum was going to be showing Marcel L’Herbier’s Fantastic Night (1942). I’ve been fascinated by the history of French horror and sci-fi films, and at the time I was considering fleshing out my chapter from Fear Without Frontiers into a book of its own—catching an actual 35mm print of this treasure was clearly must-see territory.
But how to spend the day leading up to it? Why, the Montreal Beer Festival, of course! And after a full day of sampling Canadian microbrews and eating sausages, we decided to burn off some of the woozy haze by walking to the Art Museum—some 4 miles away. We got there to find the Museum screening room’s AC was on the fritz, making the theater toasty. And so, warm and boozy and tired, we settled in to watch a B&W subtitled movie about a man who can’t stay awake. Hoo boy.
But it was worth the struggle—L’Herbier’s film is a deliriously lovely meditation on love, and dreams, and courage. With magicians. And a sinister conspiracy. Involving magicians.
Fernand Gravey plays Denis, a young scholar who’s been burning the candle at both ends so much he’s turned into a narcoleptic. Unable to stay awake, he’s started to live in a dream state, where he has fallen in love with an angel (Micheline Presle) who visits him in his dreams… unless she’s an actual person, that is, and he’s not asleep. But how could that be? The things that are happening are so patently absurd, they have to be dreams, right?
I mean, just trying to keep up with this woman takes him to a magic shop, to the Louvre, to a nightclub, to a mental asylum. There seems to be some strange plot against her—to murder her, perhaps? Or to imprison her in the asylum? Good thing the whole experience is just a crazy dream, because if for one minute he genuinely thought their lives were in serious peril, he wouldn’t be able to summon the limitless courage and ingenuity necessary to save her.
Fantastic Night was the perfect film to watch in a liminal state between waking and sleeping—if you can somehow push yourself into the right degree of mental and physical exhaustion when you see this film, it’ll really pay off. The imagery is already surreal, not to mention the deliberately fantastical storytelling. The overall effect is reminiscent of Melies and the once-grand tradition of French silent fantasy.
I emphasize “once great” because if you scroll back up to the top of the post, I said this film was made in 1942. Go ahead, do the math, and let me know when you’re ready—yes, this is Vichy France, under the boot of Nazi Germany, summoning the spirit of Melies to dream of resistance. Perhaps like the film’s hero, France could find the courage to fight back if they lost sight of the reality of their situation—perhaps the key to resistance is the liberating feeling of rejecting reality.
To quote Adam Savage, “I reject your reality and substitute my own!”
L’Herbier himself felt more liberated by the experience of making this film than anything he had in recent memory. The actual working conditions were physically miserable, but he had a creative autonomy like never before—and a secret collaborator. The dialogue was written by (but not credited to) Henri Jeanson, an outspoken anti-Vichy pacifist recently released from prison for his political beliefs.
I’m hinting at this being a secret political statement against the Nazi occupation. Which in some ways it is, but the marvelous power of this gem is that its poetry is not so constrained as to be limited to such a singular moment in history.
Think of Fantastic Night as a reverse-Inception. Instead of people taking control of dreams, here’s a chance to use what you wrongly believe to be a dream to take control of your waking life.
Julie and I stumbled out of that screening room back onto the streets of Montreal, late at night, delirious from half-sleep, to try to take control of our own lives back. Not yet sure how that’s worked out for us. I’ll get back to you on that.
