Some familiar strains in the broad strokes recall contemporary cinematic fare, and possibly other works, too. To whatever extent this is the case, though, by all means screenwriter Pierre Lestringuez whipped up a story that's readily enjoyable and compelling in its own right, and I also feel like some plot elements herein were rare if not altogether novel for the time period. The overall narrative and each scene in turn are well balanced between surprising levels of drama, light humor, tinges of romance, and more, and not only is the writing robust and compelling, but all the other labor poured into the production was just as terrific, cementing the value of this silent classic. To judge it strictly by the thrust of the story it may not fully leap out among its brethren, but 'La fille de l'eau' boasts substantial strength in its details that makes it more than worthy enough to earn recognition, remembrance, and a hearty recommendation, both as a surviving film of the 1920s and absolutely on its own merits. No matter how much or how little some facets had presented in other prior titles, it's nonetheless wonderfully striking how various ideas were employed here.
Catherine Hessling definitely stands out most as protagonist Virginia (identified in the French intertitles as "Gudule"), and aptly demonstrates her capability as a leading lady with gratifying nuance, range, and physicality. This is hardly to count out her supporting co-stars, including Harold Levingston and even writer Lestringuez, but there's no questioning who is the standout member of the cast. Like so much else in the picture I rather wonder if it's not worth watching just for Hessling alone, and the same can surely be said of director Jean Renoir - incidentally Hessling's husband at the time. Even so early in his career as a filmmaker Renoir undeniably shows a firm hand and keen eye in guiding his cast, orchestrating shots and scenes generally, and otherwise ensuring that the many moving parts of Lestringuez's vision were brought to vivid, marvelous life. Simple as the saga may seem at times, especially early on, there are aspects of the project that are notably complex, and under Renoir's direction everything is executed across the board with deft fluidity and obvious, considerable skill.
That complexity includes unexpected violence, a relatively early example of which is altogether jarring; the coordinated stunts and more action-oriented sequences are fantastic. Speaking of fantastic, Lestringuez's whimsy served up a wild, rather awe-inspiring dream sequence that Renoir and his collaborators realized with such tremendous vitality that the result is actually kind of disturbing. I dare say that's no small feat for the silent era, not least for a title that does not specifically dabble with horror. Practical and visual effects, tricks of the camera and editing, and for that matter the editing at large are downright exquisite - above all in that one special instance, but indisputably elsewhere in the movie, too. Rapid cuts at select points heighten the palpable tension and amplify characters' feelings; Jean Bachelet and Alphonse Gibory illustrate smart cinematography that solidifies or lends flavor to particular beats, and minutiae as simple as close-ups and lighting are exercised to excellent effect. Be it true or not, there are bits and pieces of 'La fille de l'eau' that feel uncommon, advanced, or splendidly inventive for 1925, and one way or another, they're genuinely extraordinary as they present.
Factor in lovely sets, filming locations, and costume design, and to be honest I'm hard-pressed to identify any criticisms. If anything I might say that the makeup is a tad heavy-handed here, giving some actors an unnatural experience exceeding even what other features of the silent era were working with. Engrossing as the film becomes very quickly, the disparity between the ordinariness of early scenes and the vibrancy of later scenes is noteworthy. Then again, if these are really the worst detractions one can make of a production, then it's clearly done pretty well for itself. Even if it's not entirely perfect, or doesn't completely demand viewership for one and all, the final product more than speaks for itself. In nearly every capacity the picture is superb, crafted with intelligence and care; even the intertitles bear some welcome, somewhat flowery language. Renoir's direction, the acting, and Lestringuez's screenplay and root storytelling are all quite brilliant, and the fact that other contributions from behind the scenes threaten to outshine these preeminent qualities says so much about the whole. When all is said and done I'm inclined to think that while it may not have the same renown as some of its kin, 'La fille de l'eau' is as absorbing, entertaining, satisfying, and all-around upstanding as most any of its contemporaries, and furthermore stands far taller than no few titles even in all the decades since. It can be hard to come across but if you do have the opportunity to watch, as far as I'm concerned this is highly deserving of anyone's time.
Catherine Hessling definitely stands out most as protagonist Virginia (identified in the French intertitles as "Gudule"), and aptly demonstrates her capability as a leading lady with gratifying nuance, range, and physicality. This is hardly to count out her supporting co-stars, including Harold Levingston and even writer Lestringuez, but there's no questioning who is the standout member of the cast. Like so much else in the picture I rather wonder if it's not worth watching just for Hessling alone, and the same can surely be said of director Jean Renoir - incidentally Hessling's husband at the time. Even so early in his career as a filmmaker Renoir undeniably shows a firm hand and keen eye in guiding his cast, orchestrating shots and scenes generally, and otherwise ensuring that the many moving parts of Lestringuez's vision were brought to vivid, marvelous life. Simple as the saga may seem at times, especially early on, there are aspects of the project that are notably complex, and under Renoir's direction everything is executed across the board with deft fluidity and obvious, considerable skill.
That complexity includes unexpected violence, a relatively early example of which is altogether jarring; the coordinated stunts and more action-oriented sequences are fantastic. Speaking of fantastic, Lestringuez's whimsy served up a wild, rather awe-inspiring dream sequence that Renoir and his collaborators realized with such tremendous vitality that the result is actually kind of disturbing. I dare say that's no small feat for the silent era, not least for a title that does not specifically dabble with horror. Practical and visual effects, tricks of the camera and editing, and for that matter the editing at large are downright exquisite - above all in that one special instance, but indisputably elsewhere in the movie, too. Rapid cuts at select points heighten the palpable tension and amplify characters' feelings; Jean Bachelet and Alphonse Gibory illustrate smart cinematography that solidifies or lends flavor to particular beats, and minutiae as simple as close-ups and lighting are exercised to excellent effect. Be it true or not, there are bits and pieces of 'La fille de l'eau' that feel uncommon, advanced, or splendidly inventive for 1925, and one way or another, they're genuinely extraordinary as they present.
Factor in lovely sets, filming locations, and costume design, and to be honest I'm hard-pressed to identify any criticisms. If anything I might say that the makeup is a tad heavy-handed here, giving some actors an unnatural experience exceeding even what other features of the silent era were working with. Engrossing as the film becomes very quickly, the disparity between the ordinariness of early scenes and the vibrancy of later scenes is noteworthy. Then again, if these are really the worst detractions one can make of a production, then it's clearly done pretty well for itself. Even if it's not entirely perfect, or doesn't completely demand viewership for one and all, the final product more than speaks for itself. In nearly every capacity the picture is superb, crafted with intelligence and care; even the intertitles bear some welcome, somewhat flowery language. Renoir's direction, the acting, and Lestringuez's screenplay and root storytelling are all quite brilliant, and the fact that other contributions from behind the scenes threaten to outshine these preeminent qualities says so much about the whole. When all is said and done I'm inclined to think that while it may not have the same renown as some of its kin, 'La fille de l'eau' is as absorbing, entertaining, satisfying, and all-around upstanding as most any of its contemporaries, and furthermore stands far taller than no few titles even in all the decades since. It can be hard to come across but if you do have the opportunity to watch, as far as I'm concerned this is highly deserving of anyone's time.