TBT: The Return of Martin Guerre (1982)

I recently reread historian Natalie Zemon Davis’s book, The Return of Martin Guerre, which if you studied French history in college you no doubt read. It’d been a few decades, so I had forgotten most of it, and was surprised to find that it remains a fascinating story! And the book is quite readable for non-fiction (okay, I love non-fiction, I just mean if you don’t, you’ll find it accessible). So of course I had to go watch the film version, The Return of Martin Guerre (1982), which actually was created before the book although Davis was the historical consultant (that experience led her to write the book) — which I don’t believe I’d ever seen! You know I’ve got to be interested if I’m willing to put up with watching one of my nemeses, Gérard Depardieu. And you know what? I was entertained!

The film tells the real-life story, documented by a legal case, of a southern French villager who abandoned his wife and family, only to return years later, reintegrate into his community, and then be accused of being an impostor. Set between 1548-60, Gérard Depardieu plays the adult version of Martin Guerre when he returns to his village, and you will be as shocked as I am to find that I enjoyed his performance! Maybe this was from before he turned into an alcoholic sexist pig? Maybe he hadn’t yet learned to overact? I don’t know! But he was fine! Even good, dare I say!

I’ll also tell you that you might initially think such a film might be a chore to watch — I was worried it would feel like homework. But it’s well scripted, well edited, well acted, and well directed. There’s no lag, the plot moves along, the performances are great, and even though I knew how things would end, I was very interested all along the way.

The story itself is fascinating (and yes, I know that the film Sommersby [1993] is a reboot set during the American Civil War, and no I have no interest in watching that as my vague memory of the film is one of boredom), although the book adds further layers the story and I also recommend that. But equally fascinating to historical nerds like me was seeing the material side of a 16th-century village, from buildings and lifestyles to, of course, clothing. It all felt very believable, and it probably helps that it was filmed in the actual area in which things happened (Artigat, a village in the Pyrenées mountains in France’s very south, near Toulouse).

The film’s costumes were designed by Anne-Marie Marchand (1929-2005), who also designed The Adventures of Arsène Lupin (1957) and the amazingly hilariously bad-looking (costume-wise) The Edifying and Joyous Story of Colinot (1973). I’m sadly shocked that I can’t find ANYTHING about her research and design process. I can tell you that historian Davis, who again consulted on the film, wrote that the costumes and sets were:

“informed not only by the Flemish Brueghel and the seventeenth-century La Tour, but also by popular woodcuts, documentary sources about favorite colors in the sixteenth-century Pyrenees, and the director Daniel Vigne’s experienced eye for traditional French agriculture” (“Any Resemblance to Persons Living or Dead”: Film and the Challenge of Authenticity).

Of course, Bruegel painted in 16th-century Flanders, far to the north and now in modern-day Belgium, while Georges La Tour is as mentioned a 17th-century (French) painter. I definitely felt like I was looking at a Brueghel painting when looking at the costumes, which was good in that they felt real and authentic but also possibly a bit too wooly for southern France.

I don’t begrudge them looking to Bruegel — it was 1982, and this kind of art historical research used to be so much harder than it is today with the internet. Nonetheless, let’s take a look at some of what I can find for southern France … or just France. Because it’s STILL hard!

The only image I can find of a lower-class person from the south of France is this image of a tradeswoman from Toulouse (the closest big city to Artigat and where Martin Guerre was tried). The other figures in the painting are clearly wearing allegorical dress, but she looks relatively “real” in her long sleeved chemise, skirted jacket, layered skirts, and wrapped head scarf:

Everything else I’m finding is from northern France, including:

Now that we’ve looked at some possible sources, let’s look at the costumes in the film! They are 99% representative of farmers and tradespeople, all living in a small village.

Overall, I LOVED the color palette! Yes it’s the dung ages, but not the everyone-is-wearing-clothes-dyed-with mud ages!

Martin and the other men wear shirts, sleeveless vests, and hose with contrasting codpieces.

While the French men in the historical art above may be wearing hose and codpieces under their knee-length gowns, that’s a big difference that jumped out at me — the film’s look is very much Bruegel and not the French images we reviewed above:

The trial is presided over by these guys in red robes:

I don’t know if they are supposed to be alderman, but compare them to an actual image of the aldermen of Toulouse (exactly where the trial is happening) from this period:

Some lawyers? Legal officials of some kind? show up in long black robes and black hats:

Compare them to this 18th-century engraving of a 16th-century French lawyer — black gowns with high necks, square hats — check check!

Our focal female character is Martin’s wife Bertrande. She’s young and beautiful, and meant to stand out from the other women in the film — because the big question is, does she really believe this man is Martin? Overall, I liked her look, with tightly fitted but not overly corset-y bodices and always with her hair covered by a colored head scarf:

I did notice that many of her bodices were very short-waisted. I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to show they were old and outgrown? I also question the fact that she’s almost never in a “gown,” i.e. a bodice attached to a skirt.

I looked at several Bruegel images, and it’s not something I’m seeing. Instead most of the Flemish women he painted are wearing long gowns or the occasional skirted jacket:

For Martin’s trial, Bertrande adds an overdress with tied-on sleeves accented with lace (a plot point, Martin gives her the lace when he returns). I like how the bodice of the red dress is cut open wide to show the kirtle (underdress) underneath:

That being said, I see this kind of line on the back of a woman’s dress in a Bruegel, but I’m not immediately spotting it from the front:

Other female characters looked good, wearing a range of different styles and ALWAYS with their heads covered (hallelujah!). Again, not enough full dresses and too many separate bodices and skirts.

So, if you haven’t seen The Return of Martin Guerre, or haven’t seen it in a while, I’d suggest firing it up!

 

Got thoughts about The Return of Martin Guerre? Of course you do, so weigh in!

 

 

 

 

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