There’s no need to relitigate the career of Jean Renoir, since his reputation has always preceded him, right from the early days of his work as one of the most prominent French filmmakers in the post-silent era. He made many films, some of which have gone on to become unimpeachable classics, respected as if they were sacred texts. However, something that even his most devoted admirers will confess is that Renoir was a “dessert” filmmaker, referring to the fact that the vast majority of what he produced was delectable, sweet and enjoyable, but only to an extent before it became too much to bear, especially for those not quite acclimated to his style, or this brand of sumptuous, rich cinema in general. There are few films that define this concept better than the aptly-titled Picnic on the Grass (French: Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe), his late-period comedy that sees a bold collision between comedy, romance and science, all of which are welded together in a singular pursuit of some eternal question that the director presents to us at the outset, and which gradually becomes more evident throughout the story, traversing time and space (almost taking its sensationalist leanings too far in the way only someone with the abstract sense of humour that Renoir had could plausibly achieve), and giving us insights into our species without being too prosaic or overwrought in interrogating numerous cherished ideas, which all fall victim to Renoir’s very peculiar sensibilities. Picnic on the Grass is by no means Renoir’s best work – it may not even be in his upper-tier. However, for its ambition and willingness to actually find the truth is nothing short of an absurd premise, which is given so much more emotional resonance through the director’s assured vision, it’s difficult to not view this as an utter delight in its own way.

Renoir had a tendency to ask questions, with each of his films focusing on a particular subject that the director found fascinating in some way. Whether it was social order, the post-war era, or even the human condition in general, there was always a clear thesis statement, which he would gleefully pose to us at the outset, and then spend the remainder of the film exploring a wealth of related ideas. In the case of this film, Renoir is provoking the idea of the relationship between humanity and nature, calling into question our inherent tendency to commercialize absolutely anything. Using this very relevant line of discussion, and filtering it through a premise centred on a wealthy industrialist attempting to improve the human species through mass-scale artificial insemination (which has been shown to breed a class of individual that is far more intelligent and proactive than the regular person, which turns out to be a fatal flaw), but finds himself swept up in the grandeur of the natural world when he attempts to take part in a publicity stunt – the titular picnic in the grass. Along the way, he falls in love with a mysterious woman who reminds him of the virtue of animalistic passion, rather than the cold, sterile method of procreation that he has dedicated his life to pursuing. It’s a delicate approach that ran the risk of being derailed by a film that may simply just not have known exactly where it wanted to go, but under Renoir’s gentle guidance, Picnic on the Grass becomes such a fascinating text, a film that launches itself in a very smart discussion on the limits between humanity and artificiality, and how it is such a narrow margin separating us from becoming machines ourselves. There’s a lot of meaning underpinning this film, and while it may be clumsy in its executions, it has a purity of intention that more than makes up for whatever weaknesses come through Renoir’s directing.

Many directors have tried to capture the human experience, and while some succeed, an equal amount find themselves struggling with the more abstract concepts underpinning the work. What makes Picnic on the Grass different is that it hails from someone who dedicated most of his creative career to capturing different sides of life in a variety of forms. To say that Renoir was born into an artistic family is an understatement, and through being exposed to different ways of life in his upbringing, he undoubtedly brought a very distinct perspective to his work, which situates them on the outskirts of what many of his contemporaries were doing at the time. It’s not particularly challenging in theory, especially since what we’re introduced to at the outset is a relatively simple premise that seems to be more amusing than it is hard-hitting – and for the most part, Picnic on the Grass retains this sense of buoyancy. The difference comes when we see Renoir in action – through the willpower derived from decades of working in the industry, he forms a mesmerizing comedy that touches on our shared existence through the most bizarre but wonderfully effervescent means imaginable. There is just something so magical about the work he is doing here, and while it may be too buttery for some viewers who don’t find his brand of vaguely-surreal comedy all that amusing, it’s difficult to not be enchanted by this film if you’re one for suspending disbelief and surrendering to the delightful delusions of a truly remarkable filmmaker, who is still operating on the same cylinders in his advanced age that he was when he was a much younger, rambunctious filmmaker. His work is understandably divisive, but what often goes without saying when looking at Renoir’s career is that he never depended on his reputation to propel him forward, refusing to rest on his laurels, and instead opting to press on and continue pushing the envelope, an admirable trait from a filmmaker who truly peddled in cinematic mastery on numerous occasions, to the point where it has almost entirely defined him.

On a conceptual level, Picnic on the Grass is a terrific piece – partially a humanistic satire, insofar as it is one of the rare “message” films that doesn’t have a particular target in mind, instead setting its sights on the entire institution of humanity (and thus refusing to villainize anyone, instead showing our species as flawed but still worthy of adoration). Yet, in execution it is even more notable – Renoir had a bizarre ability to make the most banal elements of life seem so fascinating, and to bring out emotional resonance in even the most unconvincing of situations – and his insistence on presenting everything as simply as possible only sweetened the experience, since everything unfolds with a poetic elegance that doesn’t only invite the viewer to take a casual stroll through the world Renoir is constructing, one where joy and optimism aren’t only encouraged, but actively necessary, but also allows the inner machinations of this story (which are far more complex than one would imagine) to gradually emerge, free of the constraints of overly-complicated storytelling. It may not be the most effective Renoir has ever been – Picnic on the Grass absolutely pales in comparison to something like The Rules of the Game or Le Grande Illusion (both of which define the entire concept of the unimpeachable masterwork) – but its heartfulness and gradual dismantling of cinematic conventions that would normally bind a film like this makes it so much more effective. This is the epitome of a film built on the idea of inspiring nothing but warmth in the viewer, with any underlying commentary being peripheral to the main thrust of the film. Renoir isn’t the only filmmaker who attempted such discussions, but he certainly was the one would could do it without becoming too heavy-handed in his aims, as reflected throughout Picnic on the Grass, a film that massively benefits from the virtue of simplicity.

In both form and content, Picnic on the Grass is a deliriously effective provocation of the senses. Plucked from the mind of one of cinema’s most lovable artistic lunatics, who may be working in an undeniably minor key here, the film finds the earnest emotion in some of the most unexpected places. Renoir had a very distinct way of approaching his stories, and while the film may sometimes come across somewhat heavily in how it attempts to portray the decline of the modern world as a result of technological advancement, it’s barely enough to qualify the director as taking a Luddite perspective to what is not as far-fetched a premise as we’d imagine. Watching Picnic in the Grass from a modern context is quite eerie, since much of what Renoir and his cohorts are doing here speaks directly to what we are experiencing today, which is quite an achievement for a film produced over sixty years ago. Ultimately, what makes this film great is that it doesn’t take itself too seriously, while not neglecting to have a strong message underlying the buoyant comedy and soaring romance that mainly defines the film. Renoir made many films, and this is hardly amongst his best, so while it may not convert those who are agnostic to his talents, it absolutely will please anyone who is already captivated by his work, since he evokes many of the same qualities present in his finer films, repurposing them in this quaint and lovable comedy that takes a bold stance, and demonstrates it through filmmaking that is so effervescent and bubbly, it constantly feels on the verge of floating away from us entirely.