Don't look at me like that, you'll wear out your eyes.

La Bête Humaine
Jean Renoir 1938 France
Starring: Jean Gabin, Simone Simon, Fernand Ledoux, Blanchette Brunoy, Jacques Berlioz, Julien Carette

Over the past year or so I've become a big fan of the author Émile Zola so any screen adaptation of his work (and there have been several) may be judged a little more harshly than other films here. Jean Renoir's rendering of Zola's 1890 La Bête Humaine, which is perhaps the most famous of Zola's novels, is a strange case. On the one hand it's faithful enough to use text from the book for an onscreen introduction and retain much of the dialogue (which doesn't always translate well to film), on the other it drastically simplifies and sanitises the original story. Indeed, the character of Flore, an integral element of the later parts of the novel, only appears in one early scene before being forgotten about altogether (in Renoir's defence this is slightly understandable as the sheer enormity of the action in these moments would call for an astronomical budget, not to mention the issue of Flore being Jacques' cousin). Likewise the ending has been completely changed and Jacques made altogether more sympathetic and even redeemable, although it has to be said that Renoir's finale is actually even more pessimistic than Zola's. There's also the matter of La Bête Humaine's placing in Zola's interconnected Rougon-Macquart series as, like the others in the sequence, it can be read as a standalone but a little knowledge of the history of the main character does inform and enhance several parts of it. Resultantly any reworking, even a loose one, is bound to suffer from the same problem. That being said if you ignore the story's origins and view the film as a separate entity it is very good in parts with Jean Gabin particularly noteworthy in the main role of the disturbed engine driver Jacques. Gabin was always an unusual presence in that he was never terribly tall or mad lumpy but was utterly believable in threatening roles, often dominating the screen almost effortlessly. Here however he couldn't be more different tapping into Jacques' essential childishness, his attachment to his train which he names 'La Lison', his habit of falling in love quickly, his eagerness to protect his lover, perhaps even his lack of understanding of the ramifications of either of the latter. Furthermore he's regularly manipulated and controlled by Simone Simon's femme fatale Séverine and overshadowed by Fernand Ledoux's Roubaud (who steals the film). What's more it's debatable who the beast of the title actually is. It could be Jacques, repeatedly seen emerging from La Lison covered in soot and dirt with only his eyes visible and suffering unexplained attacks which cause him to act "against his will, for reasons he doesn't understand", but Séverine is also a possibility - her hold over the men in her life, using them expertly to get what she wants, and the ease with which she disposes of them when they disobey her is certainly monstrous. Then again Roubaud is a contender, mouthing loving pleasantries to his wife behind gritted teeth before being driven to murder and a rapid unravelling by his own jealousy, coldly informing Séverine that whether she leaves him or not they're binded together forever by their actions. It could even be Cabuche whose ferocious temper leads him to be charged with the first killing despite being arguably the only innocent of the four. There are many such contrasts here, from Jacques alternating between grimy overalls and sharp suits to the disparity between the beauty of Renoir's poetic realism of shining puddles and POV train journeys and the violence of the plot. It's not the place to come if you want an accurate cinematic retelling of Zola's work but, in many ways, it's a fine production, not least for the opportunity to see another side of Gabin.