Farrebique ou Les quatre saisons (1946)
Directed by Georges Rouquier

Film Review

Farrebique ou Les quatre saisons is one of the most remarkable French films of the 1940s, certainly one of the least expected.  More than just a documentary, it is an invaluable ethnological study into a people and a way of life that have by now become extinct, their existence barely perceptible in what we observe in the countryside today.  The nearest thing to this cinematic one-off is Raymond Depardon's Profils paysans (2001-8), a series of portraits charting the decline of traditional farming methods in France at the start of the third millennium.  Farrebique is not a conventional documentary (it lacks the rigorous objectivity of Depardon's films).  Rather, its director Georges Rouquier appears to have modelled it on Robert J. Flaherty's Nanook of the North (1922), combining slices of life filmed sur le vif with a fictional narrative and some dazzling lyrical interludes.

This was Rouquier's first full-length film, and unquestionably his best.  Whilst Farrebique was not the commercial success it deserved to be, it is now highly regarded and was honoured with the FIPRESCI prize when it was screened (out of the competition) at the first Festival de Cannes in 1946.  Rouquier had to wait 38 years before he could realise his ambition of making a sequel, Biquefarre (1984), the last film he made before his death in 1989.  Farrebique is a uniquely poetic film that is as much a meditation on the cycles of human existence as it is an insightful portrait of the life of peasant farmers circa 1940.

The film's authenticity is helped by Rouquier's decision to film a real farming family rather than employ professional actors.  The grandfather who appears in the film was Rouquier's uncle, and the owner the farm where most of the film is set.  The rest of the cast comprises other family members and neighbours.  Farrebique is at its most effective, and affecting, when Rouquier films the farmers going about their daily routine - making bread, ploughing the fields (with oxen-pulled ploughs), gathering the harvest by hand and feeding a steam-powered threshing machine.  These are raw snatches of life that we recognise from classic literature but seldom glimpse 'for real' on film, and witnessing them is quite a moving experience.  Life may appear hard for all of the individuals we see, but we can hardly fail to be envious of their wondrous proximity to nature.  Today humankind seems to be so disconnected from the natural world, but in this film we observe men, women and children living as part of nature's tapestry, sharing the same heartbeat, the same pulse of life.

In the film's most lyrical passage, the birth of a baby in the springtime forms part of a spectacular montage of accelerated shots depicting the flourishing of new life after the passing of winter - seeds germinating, ferns unfurling, early flowers blossoming, birds laying their first eggs...  Mirroring this triumphant celebration of life is the lament of death that comes with the onset of winter towards the end of the film.  As the old patriarch releases his mortal bonds, we hear the mournful sound of a tree being felled - a poignant reminder of human mortality and our modest place in the scheme of things.

Where the film stumbles slightly is with its scripted passages.  As in Flaherty's film, these feel a tad forced and contrived, weakening the film's integrity just a little.   The younger son's courtship, the patriatch's sudden death and subsequent dispute over what will then happen to the farm - these are soap-style embellishments but they do lend a structure to the film and reinforce the impression that time is marching on.  Change is what the film is primarily about and the most dramatic sign of change is the death of a language that has served countless generations.  Whilst the older members of the family can speak fluently only in their regional patois (occitan rouergat), their grandchildren speak only in standard French.  We are moved not only by the obvious gulf that exists between generations who cannot communicate with one another, but also by the realisation that an ancient language is dying out right in front of our eyes.  It was seventy years ago that Farrebique was filmed, in the immediate aftermath of WWII, but watching it today it seems like we are looking back into a long distant century, to see a world that is now as alien to us as the surface of some unknown faraway planet - a world that is strangely attractive...

Film Synopsis

The Aveyron district of southern France is noted for its high rocky plateaus which give the countryside a distinctive, almost Neolithic character.  Visiting the region you have a sense that it hasn't changed for millennia, that it exists in a bubble that has somehow been untainted by centuries of human progress.  In the 1940s, when filmmaker Georges Rouquier made his documentary Farrebique ou Les quatre saisons, farming methods in this region of France had remained unchanged for generations, but whilst many still remained doggedly committed to the old traditions, a few were beginning to adopt new ways of farming.

Immediately after the Liberation, Rouquier spent a full year with one community of farmers, following them across four seasons.  The film he made is a fascinating pictorial record of a way of life that has now completely disappeared, a time capsule showing man living in accord with the rhythms of nature.  Before the advent of electricity, modern machinery and artificial methods of growing crops, man had to work with nature and cope as best he could with this, the most temperamental and unforgiving of mistresses.  It was a precarious and often brutal mode of existence, but in some ways it was a richer, more satisfying life.  Perhaps Rouquier's film has a message for future generations...