Maigret : cinema against the law.

Between 1932 and 1959, « La nuit du carrefour » et « Maigret et l’affaire Saint-Fiacre », Pierre Renoir and Jean Gabin, Maigret has shed a few years and pounds ; a felt hat has replaced his bowler hat.

Maigret returns to the Saint-Fiacre castle, near Moulins, in central France, where he spent his childhood : his father was comte de Saint Fiacre’s bailiff. He is back at the old countess’s request, whom he used to worship, but cannot prevent her murder. He will overcome his initial failure to discover her killer, but to what avail ?

« Maigret et l’affaire Saint-Fiacre » could be a great film. At times, it is excellent : Gabin’s stature, the dull winter light, the old castle, the flat empty countryside, petrified leafless trees, Maigret’s unspoken memories, a sleepy provincial town, a tapestry of greys -a Maigret movie in Technicolor would look like a silent musical would sounf-, a world dying of muted hate and meanness.

Then, suddenly, a few lines of dialogue and everything collapses. The film dialogues were written by Michel Audiard, an expert at Parisian slang and the undisputed master of French one-liners from the nineteen fifties to the nineteen seventies.

« Mots d’auteur », one-liners, wit make no sense in a Maigret film. Simenon always boasted that there was not one ounce of literature in his novels. There shall therefore be no cinema in their adaptation to the screen.

To manage the perfect Maigret movie, nothing shall stand out : the film shall be remarkable for its total lack of effects, in framing, cinematography, editing, music, sets, costumes, above all, in acting and dialogues.

Gabin was quick to show off in his later years ; when he is Maigret, he never does, as if in natural synch with a character whose humble origins and country roots he shared.

During the first half-hour of the movie, Audiard shows restraint, then his self-control gives way and the film falls apart : the gratuitous flashiness of the dialogues wakes us up from Simenon’s world and it vanishes before our eyes.

Audiard’s irresistible urge to exhibit his tricks robs us of a great film and brings to waste Jean Delannoy’s and his crew’s efforts to use their skills only to hide them and sacrifice their expertise for the benefit of the movie.

A successful Maigret adaptation must be the opposite of a calling card ; it shall never be considered for an award in any category, but best film.

Gabin is a great Maigret, because he does not act : he is, standing like a deeply rooted tree, the embodiment of existence. As he moves from case to case, his work is tragically hopeless : like Sisyphe’s, it will see no end.

Maigret faces the don quixotic dimension of his task with eyes wide open : he forbids himself to judge a man and would have been a doctor rather than a commissaire, but is, first of all, a professional set, like a Howard Hawks character, on fulfilling his duties as best he can.

As a Maigret film requires as little cinema as possible, it is that strange object : a movie best appreciated at home. The liquid, soft-edged world of Simenon’s novels would not be better served by outstanding film projection standards than by Audiard’s one liners. Its intimate quality will be best served by the small screen.

Enjoying Maigret movies at home will allow the viewer to match the atmosphere on screen and the commissaire’s frame of mind. A slight numbness will be welcome, provoked either by the digestion of one of the commissaire’s heavy meals or a slightly fever.

True, a certain level of numbness is also the only way to make TV fare bearable, but in the case of TV fare, it is not meant to enhance one’s viewing pleasure : it is just the ordinary by-product of mediocre programming.

Best enjoyed at home, Maigret was bound to become a TV character. Television is better adapted than cinema to the ritualised return of familiar characters and situations, while its economy greets the frugality of the commissaire’s investigations.

Simenon’s commissaire has popped up on TV sets around the world. Sometimes, he was shamelessly cloned : for years, the Germans have been crazy for a middle aged inspector, named Derrick, reputed for doing nothing.

Rather cloned than betrayed : a dreadful TV series with circus owner Jean Richard was a staple of French small screens from 1967 through 1990.

The latest French TV Maigret was Bruno Cremer, the disappearing husband of Charlotte Rampling in « Sous le sable ».

Despite this demotion from film to TV, Maigret remains in a class of his own and does not mix with the likes of « Navarro », « Julie Lescaut » and other French TV audience favourites : he achieves lower ratings.