Playtime (1967)

Directed by Jacques Tati; produced by Bernard Maurice

Monsieur Hulot (Jacques Tati) has an appointment somewhere in the heavily urbanized suburbs of Paris. He initially misses the man he was to meet and, though he eventually runs into him, it is after he and a number of others have confusing and entertaining adventures in a highly modern, mechanized and impersonal world.

Twenty minutes into Playtime, I thought it a rather dull film the length of which would test my ability to remain awake. By the time it was over, I considered it brilliant, and wished it had lasted twice as long. It reminded me of a Chaplin film, and indeed, despite having dialogue, the movie could be silent (astonishingly, Art Buchwald is credited as supplying some of the simple and sparse English dialogue). The spoken words are muted, almost in the background, yet they serve a purpose, as discussed below. Also, in spite of being filmed in colour, Playtime is filled with the greys of concrete, the silver of steel and the pale blue of glass; this too is deliberate.

The character of Monsieur Hulot is barely a character. Like the Little Tramp, we learn nothing about him (other than that he was in the army; a running joke is the number of old army buddies he encounters); he is a device by which we are carried along in the movie. There is no principal character; even Hulot is a supporting player. He disappears from view for long periods; indeed, he is not seen until about twenty minutes into the movie (though someone at an airport is mistaken for him.) People come and go, to reappear later, or perform their function in the plot and vanish.

About the plot: there is none. Playtime is a series of vignettes, following a group of tourists from the airport to the city; then Hulot takes us into the towering office block of what we guess to be a huge corporation; then we meander into a trade fair, and at last to a restaurant - all with side-trips along the way. Each scene has something to show us.

And what Playtime shows us is Tati’s gentle dissatisfaction with the modern Paris, and how it was losing its ‘Paris-ness’, even in 1967. All the buildings are international in design, without distinction. In fact, the opening scene I initially thought to be in a hospital; it’s an airport. The furniture seen in a waiting room is seen everywhere, including for sale at the trade fair (which sells useless things such as ‘silent doors’ and vacuum cleaners with headlamps.) And note the posters in the travel agency: all the destinations depicted feature similar modern sky-scrapers. A busload of American tourists arrive and are thrilled with Paris - even though they see nothing different than what would exist in New York, and their biggest thrill comprises the gadgets in the fair.

But Tati’s accusations go further. People live in a grey, hard, cold world. This does not turn them cold, but boxes them in: a flat that Hulot visits is a concrete slab of a home with television sets built into the walls and curtainless windows facing the street. The few instances of colour look out of place; a woman’s green dress is considered ‘out of date’ by her fellow diners. Technology, meant to ease and replace, instead doesn’t work or confuses. The most successful scene takes place in a restaurant on its opening night, when it is still being built and finished. It gradually falls apart, even as more guests are accommodated.

And the language is a part of this. I wondered at first why half the dialogue is in English. Then I noticed that all the signs are either bilingual or completely in English. People can’t read instructions because they are not in French.

All of this satire is laid before the viewer almost kindly. Tati doesn’t berate anyone with his disappointments. Indeed, he seems to celebrate the ability of people to overcome their environments. As the floor tiles in the restaurant come unglued, the kitchen runs out of food, the band leaves and the ceiling collapses, the patrons seem to enjoy themselves more. And even those living in the soulless concrete apartments are hospitable and welcoming.

Aside from the over-arching theme, there are some funny moments straight from silent-era comedies, such as the restaurant’s porter holding the giant knob of a shattered glass door as if the door were still intact, and the reactions of patrons at a lunch counter to the food when it’s lit by a sickly green neon light.

An apparently meaningless adventure, yet one full of purpose, Playtime is an unusual masterpiece of comedy, observation and good-natured satire.