THE RULES OF THE GAME DIRECTED BY JEAN RENOIR CRITERION ALWAYS ...

THE GAME DIRECTED BY JEAN RENOIR CRITERION

ALWAYS SECOND TO Citizen Kane in critics' polls of the greatest films, Jean Renoir's The Rules of the Game is everything it's said to be. And yet, I didn't place it on my Sight & Sound 10-best list because everybody already knows! Besides, Renoir's A Day in the Country strikes closer to the heart (plus, there's perfection in its imperfection). To finally see Rules of the Game in this restored DVD, which is clearer than any 35mm print I've seen before, brings home that this film, indeed, cannot be ignored.

In this story of a weekend gathering of French aristocrats just before the outbreak of World War II, Renoir shows how love and manners interweave among both the monied and working classes. The dalliances of several married couples put social decorum to the test, making this the ultimate French movie for its unhysterical (though frequently funny) observation of casual sex and casual commitments.

Renoir achieved a marvel of balance and subtlety (each set of characters mirrors the other's infidelities and offenses, dissatisfactions and private follies). It's a demonstration of how to look at the world as a moral gambit and remain non-judgmental. Although this is an amazing thing to behold, it's rarely imitated outside of France—almost as if other cultures and most other filmmakers would rather take the easy way out by not facing up to the complications of human weakness and thwarted desire. Rash judgment and knee-jerk responses are such a staple of most film entertainment that Renoir's example of humanism is largely ignored—not just by crude action movies but also by silly, narcissistic sex comedies. This gently spun love carousel is all about emotional violence, which is why Rules of the Game has not been a model for the generation of indie filmmakers looking to crow about violence and love; it's also why the film gets more meaningful the more you see yourself in it (that is, as you mature past other superficial movie thrills).

Criterion's second DVD of supplementary material contains a 1967 television interview of critic/filmmaker Jacques Rivette interviewing Renoir, called Renoir, the Boss. It reveals the director's open-hearted approach to storytelling. In a reunion with the actor Dalio (who portrays the adulterous and cuckolded Baron La Chesnaye in Rules), Renoir displays his good will and gratitude, saying Dalio's big scene was the best of Renoir's career. It's a beauty: As La Chesnaye unveils his latest mechanical toy to his houseguest, he grimaces with pride and embarrassment, generosity and solipsism. The combination is devastating—the quintessence of human nature. Rules of the Game remains a measure of what makes movies great because so few achieve depth with such clarity.