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Emile Zola's
novel of a rural mine town and a perilous worker's strike becomes a big-budget film of grit and torment in
Germinal. The first half of the movie captures a world just this side of prison where whole families work in the Voreux mines with a daily dose of coal dust covering their skins and clogging their minds. Escapes are rare: a drink at the company bar or a carnival. An outsider provokes talk of a strike, something the failing owners want as well. When the workers revolt, it becomes a monster. While true to Zola's passion for the worker and social change, the movie cannot recover from the operatic drama that turns the action into mere motion, failing to draw in the audience (although this is an impressive-looking film, with Voreux passing as the real thing). Viewers will be moved by the workers' plight, the daily grime that they must rinse away, and their efforts to instill a normal life in this industrial hell--and will surely learn to appreciate their own jobs, whatever the inadequacies.
--Doug Thomas
Claude Berri's latest epic, adapted from Zola, is set in nineteenth-century France, a lot of it underground. There, such miners as Maheu (Gérard Depardieu), the creepy Chaval (Jean-Roger Milo), and the troubled newcomer, Etienne (Renaud), ply their spine-cracking trade and work up steam against the venal demands of the company. Things are no easier at ground level; Maheu and his wife (a downcast Miou-Miou) already have countless children to feed, and we get to see them making a new one, up against the kitchen sink. Depardieu is all lusty brawn and strident yearnings, but Maheu is too dull and decent a role for the actor's loutish sense of fun. The movie itself is a largely fun-free zone. No one could argue with its cry for justice, but individual stories tend to get drowned out, and the act of watching it comes embarrassingly close to life in the pits-a long, hard slog in the dark. Berri has opted for the unhurried narrative sprawl that served him so well in "Jean de Florette," but this time the private battles at its core seem far less gripping. Just occasionally, everything clicks: when a stolid, silent old miner strangles the life out of a rich young girl, you feel the rage of a whole society sharpened to a terrible point. In French. -Anthony Lane
Copyright © 2006
The New Yorker