An Intimate Look at ‘La Comedie-Francaise’

Near the end of “La Comedie-Francaise ou L’amour Joue,” an actress celebrating her 100th birthday strains to remember what her younger life had been like. “We rehearsed a lot,” she recalls, eyes narrowed in concentration. Comfortably ensconced at a state-funded home for retired actors, the actress is being feted by the institution she gave so much to. She dredges her memory further, bringing up one more detail: “It was a religion for us.”

“La Comedie-Francaise,” Frederick Wiseman’s new, nearly four-hour documentary, explores the dedication and artistry of the people who devote their lives to this Parisian institution, the world’s oldest repertory theater.

Almost as much scrutiny is given to the goings-on of the board meetings, the electricians and stagehands, the hat-makers, the ushers and the theater-goers who stand for hours at the box office as to the rehearsals and performances of four plays (Moliere, Marivaux, Racine and Feydeau are represented).

The film shows the theater’s place in the lifeblood of the city, which Wiseman photographs quite ravishingly in its many, varying lights.

As is his wont, Wiseman follows his subjects without comment, never identifying the players or even the plays we see being rehearsed. While some critics have found the filmmaker’s nondisclosure infuriating, his technique shows an unusual faith in the viewer’s ability to figure out what’s going on, which anyone with a little patience will certainly be able to do.

The result is a thorough and intimate experience with a great theater company, as well as a lesson in why public funding for the arts is of such crucial importance to a community (France gives 1% of the national budget to the arts).

As the season starts, the queues at the box office are out the door. One woman trying to buy six pairs of tickets gets perturbed that she is only permitted four seats. She mentions that she’s from “city hall” and the phrase “this is a disaster” four or five times, but is firmly refused over and over. Another woman, elderly with thick glasses and a sheepish smile, stares at the seating chart as if she were deciding the fate of the Earth. Small moments such as these say volumes about the theater.

The real work of the theater is equally compelling to watch. In one rehearsal, an argument springs up between the actor playing Sganarelle in Moliere’s “Don Juan” and the director. “It’s a fatalistic negation of god!” the rotund actor bellows, describing the behavior of the hero, and the men debate with great relish whether Don Juan is “hunting god with hideous traps” because he needs to know that there is a god and he can’t live without the knowledge.

It seems, in this scene anyway, that theater people have the most wonderful jobs in the world.

If nothing else, “La Comedie-Francaise” may produce a sense of keen envy. This is a film about a culture that takes serious culture very seriously, an attitude that starts from on top, with state funding. Everyone connected seems to feel the importance of the theater, from the milliners who work with such lovely concentration to the elderly who are not forgotten by the state or by the theater. As ever the master documentary maker, Wiseman brings home his points without saying a word.

* “La Comedie-Francaise ou L’amour Joue” airs Sunday at 9 p.m. on KCET-TV Channel 28.