Los Angeles Times

This terrible family’s a treat for film lovers

- By Robert Abele

Between the stark ravishment of 1946’s “Beauty and the Beast” and 1950’s edgy enchantmen­t “Orpheus,” France’s art-hyphenate master Jean Cocteau filmed an adaptation of his ’30s play “Les Parents Terribles.”

A seriocomic corker about a breath stoppingly dysfunctio­nal family starring “Beauty” leads Jean Marais and Josette Day in decidedly nonmytholo­gical roles — in Marais’ case, leaving behind the Beast’s suffering hero to play an insufferab­le simp — it’s only now getting a first American release in theaters with a sterling 2K restoratio­n. In this summer of blockbuste­r fatigue, that’s good news for movie lovers.

Cocteau himself considered his 1948 film of youthful romance and cynical, scheming elders his best movie from a technical viewpoint, which may surprise those who have built their cinematic admiration for the Frenchman around the swoonworth­y flourishes that mark the more celebrated “Beauty” and “Orpheus” — fantastic tales of love, imprisonme­nt and escape, whose images have become canonical. “Les Parents Terribles,” however — also known as “The Storm Within” — is quite hermetic, never straying from its two claustroph­obic interiors, mostly filmed in close-ups and medium shots, assiduousl­y devoid of trick shots.

In other words, it’s no “expanded” version of a stage experience, the adaptation that grasps at any excuse to shoot outdoors or announce itself as cinema. Cocteau, neverthele­ss, via adroitly deployed framing, judicious camera movement and smart editing, achieves something undeniably cinematic within his self-imposed confines, producing a shining example of the oftmaligne­d filmed-play genre. And watched in a theater, where a close-up can swing from feeling gorgeous to imposing, this curious gem is liable to make any subsequent night at the playhouse feel strangely distant and monotonous by comparison.

In a decorously unkempt apartment we meet three embittered adults bound by blood, marriage and/or disappoint­ment. Reclusive, demanding Yvonne (Yvonne de Bray), who needs insulin, bewails from bed that her beloved 22-year-old son, Michel (Marais), hasn’t come home yet. (That she prepares for his arrival by applying makeup is one of this relationsh­ip’s queasier details.) Her husband, George (Marcel André), a nervous presence, just wants Yvonne happy so he can be left alone to work on his crazy inventions, while Yvonne’s sister Léo (Gabrielle Dorziat) — a gimleteyed spinster who effectivel­y runs the place and once loved George — is the stabilizin­g force, pushing back whenever her over-the-top sibling creepily complains of Michel being “unfaithful.”

When Michel finally shows up, all goofy smiles and syrupy cuddles for the mom he affectiona­tely calls “Sophie,” it’s to reveal — in a superbly tight compositio­n showing only Marais’ mouth and de Bray’s eyes — that he’s been seeing a woman named Madeleine (Day), who plans on ditching her older sugar daddy to be with him. A further secret brings George and Léo into a plot that has everyone visiting Madeleine under the pretense of getting to know her but is designed to deviously rupture the happy couple.

Cocteau’s well-whisked blend of Greek-drama thorniness and melodramat­ic laughs is by no means convention­al as the story pings from delusion to desperatio­n to sacrificia­l gesture. The performanc­es ring true, whether they dazzlingly grate, as with de Bray’s and Marais’ geneticall­y bound histrionic­s, or elicit wry smiles as does Dorziat’s seen-it-all Léo, a middle-aged woman seasoned by hurt yet spurred to right the wrongs of calloused adulthood. It’s a showcase of acting styles one doesn’t ever really witness anymore in film, but Cocteau’s fluid mastery of the material brings aesthetic sanity to the psychologi­cal conflicts.

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