(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Post-apocalyptic surrealist black comedy about the landlord of an apartment building who occasionally prepares a delicacy for his odd tenants.”
If there’s one universal trait that typically unites films of all genres exploring our fated post-Apocalyptic existence, then that would likely be the reality that food is going to be in short supply.
This is largely where Delicatessen (1991) – a French farce emerging from the visionary minds of co-directors Marc Cano and Jean-Pierre Jeunet and their co-scripter Gilles Adrien – stakes out its bona fides. Apparently, we’ve gone and destroyed our world – all of that business happens offscreen well before the action here begins – and the survivors are making do with what’s left behind. In the opening, the audience is introduced to what remains of a single block of the random small village, a place wherein the residents of a somewhat dilapidated apartment building heed the beck and call of their landlord Clapet (played by Jean-Claude Dreyfus). This small-town petty tyrant operates the last-standing delicatessen shop on the ground floor of the shared structure, but it’s a bit of mystery as to where the man almost magically comes up with cuts of meat given that such delicacies are in short supply.
Into this run-down neighborhood comes Louison (Dominique Pinon), a former circus performer looking for any available lodging. Though Clapet initially declines the young man’s request, he gradually warms up to him, eventually agreeing that Louison can occupy the sole available room upstairs so long as he also agrees to serve as the building’s maintenance man. Happily, Louison agrees; and this gives him the chance to get to know the various tenants who’ve already established residence in the cramped multi-floor structure.
What Louison doesn’t know might – ahem – be the very life and death of him: Clapet has been secretly luring rental prospects to the place via newspaper advertising, and he also operates a side business both carving these lost souls up and selling them as prime cuts to his remaining tenants. So, it should go without saying that this Delicatessen is, indeed, a rather dark comedy – a Black Comedy, even, and one with a little bite – that many might find more than a bit objectionable if they aren’t aware of what’s in store from the get-go.
However, I’d be remiss in my duties as a critic if I didn’t point out that Delicatessen rather elegantly shirks off its rather grim subject matter by engaging in almost cartoonish merriment. Caro and Jeunet’s style is not unlike that perfected and critically acclaimed for so long by the auteur Terry Gilliam, being a combination of unconventional camera work, vivid set design, and somewhat fantastic costuming. Everything in the picture is a bit over-the-top – a bit outlandish – so much so that one rarely (if ever) truly stops to think about the fact that this is a laugher about cannibalism at the end of the world. Though a few of its characters might be a bit foppish, every one of them still practically reeks of old school charm; and it grows easy to swallow that each is still a bit of a villain in his or her own rights.
Additionally, Caro, Jeunet, and Adrien’s script goes to great lengths to give each and every one of these major and minor players their own screen identity, their respective purpose in both being here and serving some purpose – big or small – in the chaotic tale. Usually, I’ll admit to being a bit put-off by a film with so many subplots; and yet none of what transpires here slows the pace in any way whatsoever. Just about the time I grew tired with one depressed woman’s repeated suicide attempts, the screenwriters proved they were one step ahead of me: they concocted one last hurrah for Aurore Interligator (Silvie Laguna) to kill herself in such an elaborate and pervasive scheme to prove that viewers were never to take even this self-destruction all that seriously.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Post-apocalyptic surrealist black comedy about the landlord of an apartment building who occasionally prepares a delicacy for his odd tenants.”
If there’s one universal trait that typically unites films of all genres exploring our fated post-Apocalyptic existence, then that would likely be the reality that food is going to be in short supply.
This is largely where Delicatessen (1991) – a French farce emerging from the visionary minds of co-directors Marc Cano and Jean-Pierre Jeunet and their co-scripter Gilles Adrien – stakes out its bona fides. Apparently, we’ve gone and destroyed our world – all of that business happens offscreen well before the action here begins – and the survivors are making do with what’s left behind. In the opening, the audience is introduced to what remains of a single block of the random small village, a place wherein the residents of a somewhat dilapidated apartment building heed the beck and call of their landlord Clapet (played by Jean-Claude Dreyfus). This small-town petty tyrant operates the last-standing delicatessen shop on the ground floor of the shared structure, but it’s a bit of mystery as to where the man almost magically comes up with cuts of meat given that such delicacies are in short supply.
Into this run-down neighborhood comes Louison (Dominique Pinon), a former circus performer looking for any available lodging. Though Clapet initially declines the young man’s request, he gradually warms up to him, eventually agreeing that Louison can occupy the sole available room upstairs so long as he also agrees to serve as the building’s maintenance man. Happily, Louison agrees; and this gives him the chance to get to know the various tenants who’ve already established residence in the cramped multi-floor structure.
What Louison doesn’t know might – ahem – be the very life and death of him: Clapet has been secretly luring rental prospects to the place via newspaper advertising, and he also operates a side business both carving these lost souls up and selling them as prime cuts to his remaining tenants. So, it should go without saying that this Delicatessen is, indeed, a rather dark comedy – a Black Comedy, even, and one with a little bite – that many might find more than a bit objectionable if they aren’t aware of what’s in store from the get-go.
However, I’d be remiss in my duties as a critic if I didn’t point out that Delicatessen rather elegantly shirks off its rather grim subject matter by engaging in almost cartoonish merriment. Caro and Jeunet’s style is not unlike that perfected and critically acclaimed for so long by the auteur Terry Gilliam, being a combination of unconventional camera work, vivid set design, and somewhat fantastic costuming. Everything in the picture is a bit over-the-top – a bit outlandish – so much so that one rarely (if ever) truly stops to think about the fact that this is a laugher about cannibalism at the end of the world. Though a few of its characters might be a bit foppish, every one of them still practically reeks of old school charm; and it grows easy to swallow that each is still a bit of a villain in his or her own rights.
Additionally, Caro, Jeunet, and Adrien’s script goes to great lengths to give each and every one of these major and minor players their own screen identity, their respective purpose in both being here and serving some purpose – big or small – in the chaotic tale. Usually, I’ll admit to being a bit put-off by a film with so many subplots; and yet none of what transpires here slows the pace in any way whatsoever. Just about the time I grew tired with one depressed woman’s repeated suicide attempts, the screenwriters proved they were one step ahead of me: they concocted one last hurrah for Aurore Interligator (Silvie Laguna) to kill herself in such an elaborate and pervasive scheme to prove that viewers were never to take even this self-destruction all that seriously.
Of course, it helps to remind viewers that all the world’s a stage, so what better character to cast in the spotlight than a failed circus clown? Pinon is delightful – a word I don’t use that often – and he’s paired up with the intoxicating Marie-Laure Dougnac as a love interest. In the guise of Julie Clapet – the landlord’s half-blind yet understandably uncoordinated daughter – she’s grown weary of dear daddy’s murderous shenanigans; once she’s smitten with Louison’s magic, she can’t help but breach the status quo and try to save the life of the man she sees as someone she’d like to spend the rest of the end to life as we know it with.
Though I’m no fan of visual schtick, Delicatessen still succeeds where most comedies fail. It rather leisurely builds up to its big showdown, and it takes great pains to ensure that all of its various pieces – as I said, there are a lot of subplots, and almost all of them come into play though the resolution of one or two are a bit oblique – fit together. That’s owed more to the skills of everyone involved here in bringing the film to life than anything else. The directors naturally get the lion’s share of the credit; and yet it should be very clear come the closing sequences that everyone had a part to play and did so to great effect.
Lastly, it’s worth noting that Delicatessen – in spite of its subject matter – doesn’t quite fit into any single genre category. I’ve seen it billed as a Horror, and while, sure, it has elements that might make some gasp it’s all accomplished with stylish humor and some surprisingly dry wit. I could be wrong, but I don’t think I recall any bloody scene in all of this. Also, I’ve also seen it talked about amongst Science Fiction and Fantasy fans because of the Apocalyptic setting; but that, too, really only shows its influence circumstantially at best. Personally, I’d describe it as a live action cartoon – one that flirts with subversiveness in the least offensive way possible – and hope that works well enough for anyone interested. Take a chance on its goodness, and you might find something to like.
Delicatessen (1991) was produced by Constellation, Union Générale Cinématographique (UGC), Hachette Première, Sofinergie Films, Sofinergie 2, and a few other participants. (All full accounting can be found on IMDB.com.) DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights and sounds – all remastered in 4K via the best elements available – to be exceptional from start-to-finish. This is a busy flick – there’s a great deal to evaluate texturally – but it all looks fantastic. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There’s a great assortment, and yet from what I’ve read elsewhere diehard enthusiasts suggest it’s a bit slim compared to some of what has been available on other releases earlier. I can’t speak to that, but there is an audio commentary along with several other interviews and making-of featurettes worth considering.
Recommended.
While I struggled with understanding the world brought to life aboard Marc Caro and Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Delicatessen and will always argue they should’ve provided a bit more substance, I also can’t deny that what they ultimately delivered certainly kept my interest. The beautiful but dour cinematography, the memorably quirky characters, and the timelessness of the physical humor and schtick makes for a compelling vision even if I didn’t always quite understand what was going on. Rarely do all of these elements congeal so swimmingly, and Delicatessen delivers a meal fit for king … even though it’s likely to be served somewhere at the end of mankind’s existence.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Delicatessen (1991) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Though I’m no fan of visual schtick, Delicatessen still succeeds where most comedies fail. It rather leisurely builds up to its big showdown, and it takes great pains to ensure that all of its various pieces – as I said, there are a lot of subplots, and almost all of them come into play though the resolution of one or two are a bit oblique – fit together. That’s owed more to the skills of everyone involved here in bringing the film to life than anything else. The directors naturally get the lion’s share of the credit; and yet it should be very clear come the closing sequences that everyone had a part to play and did so to great effect.
Lastly, it’s worth noting that Delicatessen – in spite of its subject matter – doesn’t quite fit into any single genre category. I’ve seen it billed as a Horror, and while, sure, it has elements that might make some gasp it’s all accomplished with stylish humor and some surprisingly dry wit. I could be wrong, but I don’t think I recall any bloody scene in all of this. Also, I’ve also seen it talked about amongst Science Fiction and Fantasy fans because of the Apocalyptic setting; but that, too, really only shows its influence circumstantially at best. Personally, I’d describe it as a live action cartoon – one that flirts with subversiveness in the least offensive way possible – and hope that works well enough for anyone interested. Take a chance on its goodness, and you might find something to like.
Delicatessen (1991) was produced by Constellation, Union Générale Cinématographique (UGC), Hachette Première, Sofinergie Films, Sofinergie 2, and a few other participants. (All full accounting can be found on IMDB.com.) DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights and sounds – all remastered in 4K via the best elements available – to be exceptional from start-to-finish. This is a busy flick – there’s a great deal to evaluate texturally – but it all looks fantastic. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There’s a great assortment, and yet from what I’ve read elsewhere diehard enthusiasts suggest it’s a bit slim compared to some of what has been available on other releases earlier. I can’t speak to that, but there is an audio commentary along with several other interviews and making-of featurettes worth considering.
Recommended.
While I struggled with understanding the world brought to life aboard Marc Caro and Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Delicatessen and will always argue they should’ve provided a bit more substance, I also can’t deny that what they ultimately delivered certainly kept my interest. The beautiful but dour cinematography, the memorably quirky characters, and the timelessness of the physical humor and schtick makes for a compelling vision even if I didn’t always quite understand what was going on. Rarely do all of these elements congeal so swimmingly, and Delicatessen delivers a meal fit for king … even though it’s likely to be served somewhere at the end of mankind’s existence.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Delicatessen (1991) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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