Mr. Hulot's Holiday movie review (1953)

The movie was released in 1953, and played for months, even years, in art cinemas. “Mr. Hulot” was as big a hit in its time as “Like Water for Chocolate,” “The Gods Must Be Crazy” and other small films that people recommend to each other. There was a time when any art theater could do a week's good business just by booking “Hulot.” Jacques Tati (1908-1982) made only four more features in the next 20 years, much labored over, much admired, but this is the film for which he'll be remembered.

The movie tells the story of Mr. Hulot's holiday by the sea, in Brittany. As played by Tati, Hulot is a tall man, all angles, “a creature of silhouettes,” as Stanley Kauffmann observed: “There is never a closeup of him, and his facial expressions count for little.” He arrives at the seaside in his improbable little car, which looks like it was made for a Soap Box Derby and rides on bicycle wheels. (I always assumed this vehicle was built for the movie, but no: It is a 1924 Amilcar, and must have given its original owners many perplexing moments.)

Hulot, decked out in holiday gear and smoking a pipe, is friendly to a fault, but he is the man nobody quite sees. The holiday-makers are distracted by their own worlds, companions and plans, and notice Hulot only when something goes wrong, as it often does. The lobby of his seaside hotel, for example, is an island of calm until he leaves the door open, so that the wind can create a series of small but amusing annoyances that must have taken days to set up.

Tati doesn't make a big point of establishing characters, but gradually we recognize faces. There is a pretty blond (Nathalie Pascaud) who is on holiday by herself, and is always cheerful, in a detached sort of way. Hulot the eligible bachelor walks out with her, takes her for a ride and even attempts unsuccessfully to go horseback riding with her, but she keeps him at a distance with her smile. She remains an elusive vision, like the blond in the convertible in “American Graffiti.”