THE GOLDEN COACH (75)

Directed by: Jean Renoir (1952)

Starring: Anna Magnani, Duncan Lamont, Ricardo Rioli, Paul Campbell

The Pitch: In a Spanish colony of the 18th century, the leading lady in a troupe of Italian actors wins the heart of the Viceroy, who shocks the local aristocracy by making her a gift of his golden coach.

Theo Sez: Intelligent people will argue over this one but at least everyone can agree it looks gorgeous, from the vivid colours of the stage backdrops and actors' costumes to the gentle, rather milky (can we say Impressionist?) light Claude Renoir also brought to THE RIVER. Beyond that, I guess it depends on one's view of Anna Magnani, who's either a great actress containing all the film's various roles or a singular-but-shrill presence, too obviously 'herself' to transcend herself ; I'm in the second camp, which is why the theme - "Where does the theatre end and Life begin?" - seemed to work the opposite way than may have been intended, not a case of Theatre (i.e. Magnani) creating Life but a case of Life requiring, or necessitating, Theatre. She's in fact the only honest character - till the end, when she saves the day by giving a performance before the Bishop - whereas her suitors are all playing roles (the Viceroy in his self-consciously "civilised" airs, the bullfighter with his stereotypical machismo, the soldier acting the Castilian swordsman till converted to the simple life by his Indian captors) ; Renoir is too subtle for the usual opposition of Art vs. Life, making clear the actors are just as money-minded as the aristocrats (the golden coach being perhaps the big prize - Fame and Fortune - they must ultimately decline if they're to remain actors), and far too wise to separate the 'real' world from the world of make-believe. The film brims with laughter and a certain delight in silliness, easing into farce when e.g. the Viceroy rushes from one woman (and one end of the house) to the other while also trying to chair a meeting of the Council, and it's full of treasurable detail - notably the actor playing one of the nobles (the one who reads a speech during the meeting) and obviously can't act at all, merely reading his lines in a monotone with a mysterious twinkle in his eye (he's like the toothless old guy who appears for no particular reason in the late films of W.C. Fields) ; yet there's sensuality in the fun - why do so few movies realise that laughter is the greatest aphrodisiac? - and love, and Magnani's tragic face, and the music of Vivaldi. An elusive film, not as sure in its aim as (say) FRENCH CANCAN, but that may be why it's slightly greater, more uncertain of the power of the artist to remake the world (unless of course you feel Magnani dominates this film as majestically as Jean Gabin inhabits that one) ; "[It] has been called a masque, a fairy tale and a fable - each a good try, but none a direct hit," wrote Pauline Kael. "The target shimmers, our aim wavers" ; one is left with the images and music, a serious film that doesn't take itself too seriously, and a certain wistfulness that comes with great sophistication. "Have you ever been in love?" the Viceroy asks his barber, speaking through a face full of foam. "Like everybody else, your Highness." "And were you ever deceived in love?" "Of course, your Highness. Just like everybody else..."