Napoléon by Abel Gance – An Intimate and Influential Epic

Initial Release Date: April 10th, 1927

Position on the list (at time of viewing): 149

This is a great example of a film that I wasn’t even aware of before beginning this project to watch all of history’s greatest films, but whose inclusion in that hallowed pantheon makes perfect sense after having seen it. The question remains, however, of whether its clear technical and historical significance translate into an enjoyable experience for the modern viewer. It’s time to brush up on our French history and dive into five and a half hours of the early career of that most infamous of tiny European generals.

Napoléon is yet another classic silent-era film where the production history of the movie is almost as interesting as the film itself. Perhaps most importantly, this film was intended to be the first of six chronicling the entire life of the political and military figure, ending with his disgraced death in exile. Even this single entry was so expensive and difficult to make, however, that the rest of the project was entirely abandoned by its director. That means that even at a whopping 330 minutes, the film only really covers Napoleon’s life through his marriage to Josephine and the beginning of his Italian campaign in 1796 (Napoleon lived until 1821, so there’s another quarter century of career left). The film was so long, in fact, that it wasn’t considered well-suited to American audiences, and the involvement of MGM in its distribution led to multiple cuts of the film. Paired with a long history of restoration efforts, this has resulted in around 30 different versions of the film that are known to have existed at one time or another, and multiple scenes that have been entirely lost. Gance’s original director’s cut actually ran for over nine hours, but much of that footage has disappeared, likely forever.

You can clearly see the influence of Soviet social cinema on Gance’s compositions and visuals. Battleship Potemkin had come out only the previous year. Also, Gance really loves tableaux.

In watching the film today, it’s easy to see why it is included in the greatest films of all time. Nearly the entire film is a technical marvel, and it is particularly noteworthy for including such a wide variety of filming techniques for its time. Most notable is the incredible amount of camera movement, including chest-mounted camera work, which was the exception at the time as opposed to the rule. It lends the film a dynamism that is quite refreshing compared to other silent epics. There are also huge amounts of montage, doubtlessly influenced by the rise of the technique in Russian film of the time. Arguably the most innovative scene of the film, though, is its concluding ‘triptych,’ often considered one of the first attempts in film at a ‘widescreen’ format. The technique actually involved filming on three cameras, connected in fixed positions, and then arranging for triple projection in the theater to achieve a wide format. Gance insisted upon the use of the new technology because he felt that nothing else could capture the scope and grandeur of his closing scenes of Napoleon triumphant, and he wasn’t wrong–there may not be a scene as visually overwhelming and striking in cinema before this point. It is truly the pinnacle of a series of visually splendid and brilliantly crafted epic scenes throughout the movie. The problem is that the viewer may be too disconnected from the narrative by the end of the film to really appreciate its beauty.

It’s hard to get an idea of the majesty of the triptych scenes without experiencing them firsthand. The scope (as well as the psychological complexity added by montage) is really unrivaled in film up to this point.

The major problem that Napoléon has for a modern English-speaking audience might actually be considered a strength by some: the incredible and minute depth with which it examines the life of its eponymous character. For some personal background, I have a degree in French and studied French history in pretty decent detail in order to obtain it, but even I had to look up dozens of details from this movie just to understand what was happening or who people were in some scenes. The movie operates with an assumption of a deep knowledge of French history, and often introduces characters with nothing but a proper noun name, assuming the audience’s familiarity with the story and major players that I just don’t think many modern Anglo viewers will have. This is far from a fatal flaw for the film; most scenes still work even if you don’t obsessively try to track down everything going on, but if you have a need to feel on top of the plot at all times it might prove a serious impediment to enjoyment. I personally watched the entire thing with wikipedia open (more than one page), and that sentence is probably going to be a deal-breaker for many. And if the level of historicity causes a viewer to feel detached, it will really ruin the beauty and splendor of some of the film’s best scenes.

The battle scenes are lent a hellish glow from the film coloration. Part 2 of the film is an apocalyptic vision of war.

What scenes they are, though. An initial early childhood scene where Napoleon takes command of a snowball fight, already the picture of a military commander, is amazing. Albert Dieudonné is captivating in the title role, smoldering with barely contained ambition, determination, and passion. The Siege of Toulon, which constitutes most of Part Two of the film, is easily the most harrowing and violent battle ever staged at the time with its hellish storm and its massive death toll. The scenes in Part Three showing the developing relationship between Josephine (Gina Manès) and Napoleon resist the urge to overly romanticize the relationship, conveying Napoleon’s obsession and Josephine’s practicality. Like many silent films of the time, there’s often a sense that these scenes go on for a little too long or belabor their points overmuch, but there’s a power to the filmmaking in its best moments that powers through the limitations of the medium and strikes home hard. I think a modern viewer’s enjoyment of the film will largely be determined by two factors. First, how knowledgeable (or at peace with their own ignorance) they are about French history. Second, their ability to prize the film on its merits rather than its limitations. I could probably list another half dozen scenes of great, raw power, but that would still only amount to maybe a third of the film’s gargantuan runtime, most of the rest of which is obsessed with the minutiae of political maneuvering and military tactics. If you love the technical history of film and don’t have almost six hours just lying around, your time might be better spent watching the film’s greatest scenes instead of the epic in its entirety. Still, for those who are willing to put in the time, there are treasures here aplenty to enjoy.

The man himself, looking down in disdain on the score. I’m sorry, Napoleon! I should’ve known you wouldn’t be happy with anything short of perfection!

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