This film by Rene Clair had got a lot of iconic and even comic moments: the prison scene where prisoners were sitting along a long table making models/toys under the suspicious eyes of the prison guards; the many grim factory sequences where workers clocked at the gate, queued up for their shifts; the interior of the factory that bored striking resemblance to that of a prison; the assembly line that kept workers working around the clock; the scene where everybody was trying to grab a big note blowing in the wind; the final shot where the two prison friends found themselves on the road again, having lost everything that belonged to them - dreams, a good life, and the prospect of a home. The film closed on an apparently a sad note, but with their love for a good tune and their appetite for a good laugh, they also seemed the happiest of all human kind.
Made in 1931 when sound was at its infantry, it was fascinating to see how directors then faced up the challenge of sound. In this case, the not so immaculate use of sound actually enhanced its rough charm. The prolong quiet moments interrupted by unexpected dialogues and music usually brought constant surprises as no clues were given as to when/whether there would be a song or a dislogue!
The real shock came when I read the plagiarism charge brought by its producer to the silent movie classic Modern Times, for it was then I realised why those iconic comic scenes seemed so vaguely familiar - although of course, this one was made a few years earlier than the Modern Times... If Charles Chaplin was indeed innocent, then it was a real wonder how close sometimes people's ideas were. Modern Times might be more funny for its gags, but I am most impressed by how fresh À nous la liberté is even today.
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