This classic French comedy from Marcel Pagnol is set in a sleepy Provençal village, a new baker Aimable (Raimu) arrives with his much younger wife Aurélie (Leclerc), 5 days in, the latter runs away with the virile shepherd Dominique (Moulin), which leaves the baker devastated, who always considers his wife distinctly asexual, thus is unable to prepare the daily bread for the townsfolk. Mustered by the marquis (Charpin) and the curé (Vattier), the whole village goes out to look for the carnal-knowledge obsessed lovers, when the wife finally returns, a moral tirade is delivered vehemently but in a cunningly oblique fashion by the baker, and once again, peace is resumed in the sleep village.
Noticeably engaging in the location shooting, THE BAKER’S WIFE continues Pagnol’s literacy of melding realism and theatrics against the routine studio-bound stock-in-trade, although visibly, the camera movement feels a shade stilted during the exterior scenes, which might also be attributed to the fact that the movie is consisted of a series of long-winded but witty conversations borne out of novelist Jean Giono’s wheezes, most faithfully reflecting a small town’s Birkenstock mindset at then with tons of lulz and hubbub.
Raimu acquits himself exceptionally remarkable in rendering an amiable, discombobulated and rough-edged persona that makes great play of his comedic bent and down-to-earth bonhomie, especially in how to awkwardly conceal his pent-up anger and finally finds an outlet to discharge it by dint of a prodigal black cat; a voluptuous Leclerc is considerably expressive in her taciturn role (which in Pagnol’s mind, is originally intended for Joan Crawford); both Charpin and Vattier make striking impressions in their plummy locution and eloquent homily, respectively. But for audience looking for any semblance of a progressive message apropos of a young woman’s sexual awakening, THE BAKER’S WIFE is a lost cause, albeit occupying the movie’s title, a shame-faced Aurélie is anything but a victor in front of her cuckolded cradle-snatcher husband, her fate is sealed by the prevalent patriarchal mores, which leaves somehow a bitter taste in this reviewer’s mouth, and hope it does not just make one of us.
referential entries: Pagnol’s HARVEST (1937, 8.0/10); Yves Robert’s MY FATHER’S GLORY (1990, 7.7/10), MY MOTHER’S CASTLE (1990, 7.8/10).