In an introduction accompanying the restored version of his seminal masterpiece, The Rules of the Game (French: La Règle du Jeu), Jean Renoir describes the moment he knew he made a challenging film, when he witnessed a member of the audience at the film’s premiere light a newspaper in an attempt to burn the venue down, angered by what he had just seen on screen. Normally, this kind of response is coded as meaning controversial, which is certainly an interesting way of looking at this particular film. It’s certainly not the definitive work of bourgeoisie satire, but it stands as one of the first to directly address some of these issues. For years, Renoir’s original vision of this story remained almost non-existent, having been butchered in an attempt to satiate the concerns of those who took umbrage to what the director way saying with his film. However, as the embodiment of candour, Renoir grew fond of his initial intentions, and having been finally fortunate to have access to the mostly-complete product, it’s difficult to argue with the legions of viewers who have taken this film, which had originally been dismissed as petty complaints against high society, and repurposed it as one of the most revolutionary works of cinema, one that may have been made eight decades ago, but stands firm as one of the most poignant explorations of social (dis)order to ever be committed to film. A steadfast provocation in both its form and message, The Rules of the Game doesn’t carry a folkloric reputation for nothing – and while it exists as a fascinating work in theory, venturing into this world for oneself is an experience like no other, with the chance to sample from Renoir’s peculiar but compelling worldview being something of a rite of passage, and all the more reason to proclaim The Rules of the Game as one of the most important films of its era, and perhaps in history.

Arguably, such grand statements shouldn’t be thrown around lightly – and with so many works at this time pushing the envelope of what could be said and done in the medium, it’s not difficult to find a wide array of revolutionary films that take on certain subjects with such direct earnestness. However, what sets The Rules of the Game apart from many others is that Renoir seems to be commenting on something deeper than simply the machinations of the high society, creating a satire that isn’t only poking fun at an entire class of people, but being self-reflective on its own existence as well. Satire isn’t always easy to define, but we tend to exhibit the collective ability to recognize it when we see it, and throughout the film, Renoir seems to be intent on employing different forms of comedy, not only as a means to entertain the audience (with The Rules of the Game being a supremely enjoyable film, whether or not we subscribe to its more subversive underlying commentary), but also to make scathing remarks on a social system that the director is quite vehemently against, even if his fundamental vision is one of more optimism for the most part. Another aspect of satire is that it ages very poorly, unless it’s done well and carries meaning beyond the immediate context in which it’s occurring. Renoir does situate this film at a particular temporal moment, looking at the pre-war period in such a way that there is some real-world background to give the story some nuance, but this is kept relatively subdued, allowing The Rules of the Game to be almost timeless. Setting aside the more direct socio-cultural context, this film is effectively detached from all sense of time and location at the fundamental level – it could be relaying the story of any particular moment, in the lives of any group of people located in any country. This not only has allowed The Rules of the Game to be given innumerable homages in later works, that doubtlessly tend to attribute their main inspirations to this film, but also to stand as an impressive piece of work that has never failed to be relevant to some enormous degree, regardless of the geo-temporal perspective one peers at it through.

Renoir has often been noted as being a filmmaker with a very simple vision. His devotees have used this fact as a means to celebrate his legacy, while his detractors have undoubtedly made it the basis for attacking his particular style. Not many artists have a single quality about their work that is the springboard for both praise and criticism, but Renoir is not like many artists at all. In The Rules of the Game, he is adopting a very peculiar view of the world. Not quite attributed to the poetic realism movement that defined this era of French filmmaking, but also not surreal enough to be considered overly experimental, the film feels like something entirely unique, each moment speaking to some deeper artistic craving carried by the director and his collaborators, who were intent on doing something revolutionary without attempting to redefine the medium as a whole. Renoir’s version of the “upstairs-downstairs” comedy is one that feels incredibly layered, even when it seems so seamless in both theory and execution. The Rules of the Game seems to earn its reputation as a renegade work of filmmaking on a purely creative level, with Renoir’s unique directorial touch lending the film a fresh and bold approach that allows it to develop far beyond a stuffy drama about the high society. The camera bounds between characters and locations, capturing every movement and expression in such perfect detail, allowing the underlying emotions (as conveyed by the impeccable cast, with so many standouts appearing throughout the film) to manifest without a moment of hesitation. While this approach to the art of capturing such stories may appear convention by standards of modern filmmaking, this film carries with it such an incredibly bold approach to its style, it’s impossible to argue with its titanic reputation, which only grows with each new viewer who discovers this marvel of a film.

Yet, where the film manages to find its footing is through the narrative. There’s so much that can be unpacked about The Rules of the Game, starting from the very title and working outwards, until a full understanding of Renoir’s bold ideas are present. In this instance, the “game” refers to life, and the “rules” being the social standards that govern it. Renoir adopts a very playful attitude towards this story, making sure to live up to the title by presenting it as a series of vignettes that see various characters navigating an almost theatrical version of reality – they’re all players in a game of chance, fortune and (as we see by the end of the film) life itself. Like many games, the only path to success is simply to follow the rules – and the brilliance of the film is seeing how these various characters attempt to prove that there are alternative methods to achieving success. Renoir spoke about how he viewed The Rules of the Game as a cinematic pantomime – populated by broad characters that aren’t based directly on specific individuals, but rather general archetypes that are universally recognized, each one an invaluable pawn in a large-scale game that seems to be almost endless, with the parameters to succeeding being to follow what is easily established at the outset. Narratively, it gives Renoir the chance to get to the core of each one of these characters, creating a truly captivating ensemble, each individual having a distinct personality that manifests throughout the story, and plays a part on propelling it forward. The director genuinely seems to care about his characters (and understandably so, since he plays one of the most prominent roles in the film, in one of the rare instances where a director casting themselves in a part doesn’t feel like vanity, but rather a concerted effort to get to a deeper understanding of the character they’ve created), and it appears like there is always something more to each one of them, which creates a sense of mystery that pervades this already beautifully enigmatic work of expressionistic fiction.

Taken alongside the approach that removes the veneer of fiction from the proceedings, we’re fully able to situate ourselves alongside these characters, and whether we’re in the pressure-filled kitchen amongst the belligerent chefs and scurrying maids, or on the hunting trail with the bourgeois hedonists that we absolutely adore despising, The Rules of the Game is an astounding work. We’re provoked to ask a very simple question: even if we follow the rules, can the game ever have a winner? The genial, upbeat tone makes it appear like it can, but the haunting climax says otherwise, with the jagged edges of this film carrying a vitriolic sense of necessary malice towards the upper-class that so proudly flaunt their wealth and influence for attention, without stopping to question whether this behaviour is warranted. On the surface, The Rules of the Game is an absolutely delightful work of fiction, a lovely comedy of manners, albeit one that thrives on its underlying sense of disillusioned anger towards the upper-class, which manifests consistently throughout the film, and causes it to reach an apex of apoplectic rage, which is carefully siphoned into a deft deconstruction of conventions, a gradual decline in pleasantries, but a firm commitment to a sense of absolute sophistication. This poetic elegance is perhaps what makes The Rules of the Game so controversial, since it’s a satire that doesn’t present itself as well – it’s a back-handed insult of a film, a scathing attack on the social system that comes from both sides, and leaves the audience questioning far more than we’d expect based on the general premise. The fact that it managed to do all of this, and remain utterly charming and effervescent until the final moments is a testament to the great skill that went into the making of this film, and the boldly ambitious storyline that feels far more effective when channelled through such an abstract, yet oddly familiar, set of conventions, which are promptly and thoroughly dismantled by a filmmaker whose profound understanding of the human condition, and immense control of his craft, make for a formidable and impressive pairing.