Hercule (1938)
Directed by Alexander Esway

Film Review

Starting out in comic theatre in the late 1920s, it took less than a decade for Fernandel to become the most popular comic performer in France.  For most of this time, he was content to lend his talents to mediocre film comedies that have since, mercifully, been lost in the mists of time.  But by the tail-end of 1930s, just as Europe was gearing up for war, he was gravitating towards more respectable fare in which he could prove his worth not just as an adept comedian but also as a serious actor.

Along with François Premier (1937) and Le Schpountz (1938), Hercule is one of just a handful of comedies featuring Fernandel in the 1930s to stand the test of time.  A mordant but highly astute satire on the newspaper industry at the time, it bears favourable comparison with American films of this kind, including Howard Hawks' His Girl Friday (1940) and Alexander Mackendrick's Sweet Smell of Success (1957).

The film's opening scenes - set in sun-drenched Provence, a popular location for 1930s French cinema - look as if they belong to the oeuvre of independent director Marcel Pagnol.  The sight of Fernandel with Pagnol regular Édouard Delmont in a picturesque rural setting immediately evokes memories of Angèle (1934) and Regain (1937), and it's surprising that this sequence was filmed not by Pagnol but by his equally revered contemporary, Jean Grémillon.

'What on Earth is Grémillon doing directing a Fernandel film?' you are prompted to ask.  The same question evidently occurred to the director himself.  Once he had completed shooting the location exteriors in Provence in the late summer of 1937, he abandoned the film (at the time titled L'Incorruptible), deciding that it was definitely not his tasse de thé.  As Grémillon went off to pursue his own strand of poetic realism with L'Étrange Monsieur Victor (1938), the completion of the re-titled Hercule fell to a less distinguished director, Alexandre Esway.

The Hungarian born Esway is all but forgotten today but he has two important claims to fame.  First, he assisted Billy Wilder (in the capacity of co-director) on Wilder's first film, Mauvaise graine (1934), a decade before he became one of Hollywood's leading filmmakers.  Second, and more importantly, he helmed Le Bataillon du ciel (1947), a lavish war film which became the most commercially successful French film made up until this time (with an audience of over 8 million in France).  Esway's career, which mostly alternated between London and Paris, was otherwise pretty nondescript, consisting mostly of lacklustre crowd-pleasers that include another Fernandel comedy, Barnabé (1938).

Esway cannot even claim sole directorship of Hercule.  The film's screenwriter, Carlo Rim, deserves a fair share (if not the main part) of the director's credit, as the film's grown-up humour calls to mind some of the other films he directed, most notably the magnificent Fernandel vehicle L'Armoire volante (1949).  Being a former newspaper editor himself, Rim had firsthand experience of the world which Hercule lampoons so mercilessly, so it's hardly a surprise that under his guiding influence the film is such an effective and memorable piece of satire.

In striking contrast to most Fernandel comedies of this era, all of the main characters are well-drawn and performed to perfection by some highly talented performers (not just second-raters intended to make the lead comic star look good).  As screenwriter, Rim clearly had no end of fun mocking the types he had to deal with in his time as an editor - the scurrilous hack who 'massages' articles for his own gain, the malicious critic who takes a sadistic delight in destroying the reputations of others, and the canny tipster who hasn't the confidence to follow his own betting advice.

Surrounded by such a despicable band of crooks and hypocrites, Fernandel looks every inch the innocent in a proverbial nest of vipers, and his character's well-meaning but pretty hopeless attempts to clean things up become more hilarious as the film progresses.  Needless to say one of his solutions - to print in his newspaper only positive news, including the bad things that do not happen - is bound to be ill-received by a readership that has grown accustomed to a never-ending litany of disaster and suffering.

Although Fernandel is clearly meant to be the star of the film, top billing actually went to Gaby Morlay, implausibly cast as the horse-faced comedian's closest confidante and love interest.  The leading French actress of her day, Morlay became the undisputed queen of the Gallic melodrama during the Occupation, dispensing matronly comfort by the cartload in such sickeningly schmaltzy crowd-pleasers as Le Voile bleu (1942) and Les Ailes blanches (1943).  Though not particularly well-suited for comedy, Gaby Morlay works surprisingly well with Fernandel, their authentic rapport providing Hercule with its solitary strand of real tenderness.

Another prominent actor of the time, Pierre Brasseur, shows up in a sympathetic supporting role, playing the amiable young juvenile for just about the last time.  It was barely a few months later that Marcel Carné foisted on Brasseur the role that would instantly transform his screen image and establish him as one of French cinema's monstres sacrés - the nasty pimp Lucien in Le Quai des brumes (1938).

Fernandel, Morlay, Brasseur - surely that's enough star power for any film?  Hercule's producers evidently did not think so, which is why Jules Berry walks in and totally steals the film as the principal villain Vasco.  It's a stunt that Berry pulled on just about every film he ever appeared in, thanks to his unerring ability to pull focus with his over-expressive body movements and the kind of dazzling charisma that would eclipse any other actor within a hundred mile radius.  The nastier the character he portrays, the better he is, and in Rim's outrageous satire Berry gets to turn in one of his most outrageous performances - one that is effortlessly funny.

Berry's wildly unscrupulous newspaper man Vasco is quite possibly the actor's greatest comic creation, an unconscionable fiend so devoid of any moral sense that Berry even manages to totally out-evil his own portrayal of Old Nick himself in Carné's Les Visiteurs du soir (1942).  Berry clearly didn't have to work too hard to find the character - it is essentially a scene-for-scene reprise of his most famous role, the cynical capitalist Batala in Jean Renoir's Le Crime de Monsieur Lange (1936).

Hercule would have been an enjoyable good-natured comedy without Jules Berry, but his wonderfully O.T.T. contribution is what elevates it to a much higher level, making it a classic laugh-out-loud satire that remains cheekily pertinent to this day.  Fernandel-like good guys may be conspicuous by their absence in today's hyper-competitive, morally deficient news industry, but when it comes to self-serving vermin like Vasco, who make a habit of peddling fake news for their own nefarious motives, there's no end of them.  Berry's repugnant character personified all that was wrong with journalism in the 1930s - and it continues to do so, almost a century after the film was made.  Plus ça change...

Film Synopsis

In the sunny Provençal village of Cadignan the locals are busy gathering in the wine harvest when old timer Monsieur Maffre suffers what he believes to be a fatal injury.  Fearing that his days are numbered, the old man summons his son Hercule and tells him that he is not his biological father.  Hercule's real father is in fact another Monsieur Maffre, who left the region many years ago to pursue a successful career as a journalist in Paris.  It so happens that Hercule's livelihood as a fisherman is threatened by the ever-growing problem of pollution in the area.   To save the jobs of himself and his friends, he takes the train to Paris to get his real father, now the owner of the prominent Parisian newspaper L'Incorruptible, to influence the city's movers and shakers into intervening in his favour.

Hercule's arrival in the capital coincides with Maffre's sudden death from a heart attack.  Because the newspaper man failed to leave a will, Hercule turns out to be his sole heir, the main part of his heritance being ownership of L'Incorruptible.  Immediately, he attracts the attention  of three parties who each has a vested interest in the newspaper.  First there is a good-natured woman named Juliette, who, as Maffre's closest collaborator, is anxious that the paper continues on similar lines under Hercule's stewardship.  Next there is Vasco, an out-and-out con artist who uses his position on the paper for his own private gain.  Then, one night, Hercule is visited by the three Riquel brothers, an odd consortium who offer him a small fortune if he will sell the newspaper.

With the support of Juliette and Vasco, Hecule takes over the running of the newspaper, not knowing that the latter is replacing legitimate articles written by an honest reporter Bastien with fraudulent reports that will earn him a fortune.  When Vasco's criminal exploits are exposed, Hercule is so appalled that he feels impelled to give up running the newspaper.  Juliette convinces him to stay, and with her help the crooked Vasco is ejected from the paper.  Feeling that his work is done, Hercule returns to his home village, appointing Bastien as his successor.  Just when his Parisian adventure seems to be over, Hercule receives an unexpected visit from Juliette, on a mission to beg him to return to the newspaper.