It's another busy day in an airport just outside Paris, and it seems all of human life is here from babies and nurses to military men. Somewhere amongst all this hustle and bustle is Monsieur Hulot (Jacques Tati), who is visiting the city on a business appointment, but today he is going to find it difficult to meet his contact as he becomes embroiled with a group of lady American tourists. But since when was anything easy in Mr Hulot's world?
By the time Playtime, scripted by its star and Jacques Lagrange, was released Tati's fame was worldwide and his comic character instantly recognisable, being France's most famous comedic actor (yes, even more famous than Louis de Funès!). However, his meticulous attention to the tiniest aspects in the frame meant that there were voices of dissent who acknowledged Tati's genius but questioned his over-indulgence. As an example, although set in Paris, the film was actually shot on a specially built set of streets and buildings at enormous cost which wasn't recouped - is it any wonder that Trafic, the next and, as it turned out, last Hulot film, was considerably scaled down from this elephantine production?
In spite of overdoing it in the quest for the perfect laugh, Playtime does have its bright spots; how could it fail to with Tati at the helm? It takes a while for Hulot to appear, and we are fooled by lookalikes dressed in the by now traditional overcoat, hat and carrying the umbrella, but when he does show up, he's at odds with his environment, as expected. He is searching for the office of an official we never see (it's no surprise that he fails in his mission), and is brought into confusion merely by waiting in the reception area, inspecting the chairs that make a funny noise when you sit on them, and eventually deciding to set off and look for the official himself.
Hulot is such an endearing character that it's frustrating that Tati insists on keeping him on the periphery for much of the time, as is his wont. Hulot is silent except for the odd "oh" or "ah" for much of the time, so that when he finally speaks, it's almost disappointing. As a director, Tati makes you seek out the gags, letting your eyes wander around the insanely detailed sets, so you, for example, realise that all the posters in the travel agency feature the same, dull building on the pictures of London, Hawaii and so on. The modern world circa 1967 is an unfriendly one, but that's not to say the people are the same, and Hulot keeps bumping into old army buddies.
The running jokes make up a large share of the humour, and some of it is very funny indeed, with Hulot finding himself trapped by an increasingly loud salesman determined to demonstrate his silent door, or accidentally smashing a glass entrance to a restaurant. That restaurant is where a long period of the story, such as it is, takes place, and not always to the film's benefit. There are amusing parts to the establishment's failure to either be ready for opening or having thought through it's dementedly chic surroundings, but Hulot is outside for most of the time. Tati's take here is that people are letting progress get ahead of them, but his approach is distant, almost scientific, and too remote for consistently hilarious comedy. A pity, as the amount of work that's gone into the production is undeniably impressive. Music by Francis Lemarque.
