What is a dream other than a fantastical scenario that our minds create, convincing us that they are real for a very brief moment in time? We’ve seen countless works of art that look at the bizarre but universal phenomenon of dreams, whether directly or as the supplement to a larger narrative – and its not difficult to understand why they have been the source of so much fascination, especially since they are an intrinsic psychological occurrence that is resonant with nearly every person, who will doubtlessly be able to recall some of their fondest dreams, as well as those that linger on in our minds because of a sense of terror they evoked in us. Regardless of the approach we take to discussing the concept, dreams are something that has made their way into the artistic world quite frequently, with myriads of creative endeavours around these voyages through the unconscious emerging over time. Marcel L’Herbier had many fascinating ideas relating to the subject when he set out to make Fantastic Night (French: La Nuit fantastique). This film is focused squarely on building worlds from the most abstract recesses of the human mind and filtering them into a charming and endearing comedy of manners that rarely shows any signs of cliche or convention. Revolutionary in a small but significant way, and driven by several compelling elements such as strong performances and exceptional writing, the film is an absolute triumph of both form and content, and one that warrants further analysis, not only in terms of psychological concepts manifested on screen, but as a piece of wartime artistry that hints at ideas far deeper than any of us could fathom at the outset.

Despite not being as well known as it perhaps should be, or at least praised as a masterpiece of early French cinema, Fantastic Night is radically influential in ways that we may not anticipate when venturing into this small but fascinating film. Primarily, the combination of themes was almost revolutionary – considering most French comedies at the time were works of tempered humour that drew on a kind of social realism, finding hilarity in common interactions between people, to have a film that is so outrageously abstract on a conceptual level likely felt like a radical departure from what audiences were used to seeing, particularly in mainstream films (experimental cinema had been flourishing on its own, which is especially understandable considering who directed this film). The fact that it became a minor sensation seemed inevitable, since audiences were presented with a story plucked from the furthest recesses of our imagination, placed in the centre of a story where we observe a world where nothing quite makes sense, but we are thoroughly thrilled to undergo the journey with these characters. L’Herbier keeps everything sedate and subdued, enough to justify many of the more offbeat choices made in the narrative, and in the process set the standard for populist films that stretch the limits of imagination, showing that there is certainly an audience for stories that are far from conventional. It’s likely that without a film like Fantastic Night, we would not have seen the development of a canon of tender and compelling works that blur the boundaries of reality and fiction, blending humour and psychological detail to create beautifully poetic and captivating adventures into the human mind and the endless worlds that can be created within it.

A brief glimpse into the production of Fantastic Night brings up a very intriguing detail – L’Herbier was a director who had been working in French cinema since the silent era, developing a reputation as one of the most steadfast proponents of experimental cinema. This should hardly come as a surprise, since despite having access to the lavish resources and technological innovation afforded to elite filmmakers at the time, the director still leans into his background in the silent and experimental era, with every frame of this film feeling like it was meticulously composed by someone whose primary source of artistic communication was through visual stimuli rather than dialogue. There is a lot of beautiful writing in the film (and many of the most memorable parts of the film come from how he strings words together), but it’s truly the visual scope that adds nuance and meaning to Fantastic Night. L’Herbier spends a great deal of time creating this world through the visual details – and while he was not afforded most sprawling sets, he saw this as an opportunity rather than a restriction. Drawing from German Expressionism in the use of very sharp, geometrically fascinating structures, the film is designed to place us in an uncanny version of the world, one that is not a complete diversion from reality, but rather one in which the laws of physics are not all that applicable, at least not in the way we’d expect. The beautiful cinematography (done in collaboration with Pierre Montazel) allows L’Herbier to paint vivid landscapes that are composed of both bold strokes and intricate details. There are simply very few films that look as stunningly gorgeous as Fantastic Night, which is even further credit to the limited resources that were available to the filmmakers.

Beyond the narrative brilliance and visual splendour, Fantastic Night is also notable because of the circumstances surrounding its creation. Made and released in 1942, the film was produced when France was under German Occupation, a notoriously difficult and harrowing time for the people across the country who found themselves under the draconian watch of military forces, who would not hesitate to resort to violence if behaviour did not adhere to their strict standards. Like any work of art produced during times of war, Fantastic Night represents much more than what appears on the surface. Films produced during this time were particularly noteworthy, especially those designed to be directly consumed by everyday viewers (rather than art films that aimed to record the events and socio-cultural milieu for posterity), and fall into two categories – those that directly address the war, and were mostly a blend of rousing, vaguely jingoistic praise heaped on the brave soldiers risking their lives for their country, and the sobering melodrama about the plight of the people they left behind, while the second category are those that are completely divorced from wartime narratives, but rather infuse their normally upbeat and joyful stories (created as a meaningful diversion from the bleak conditions outside the cinema) with a sense of hope, and messages of forthright humility. Fantastic Night occupies the latter category for the most part but finds increasingly smart ways to incorporate elements of the former into the otherwise beautifully endearing story. It’s a resonant story of romance and adventure made at a time when the people of France (and the world at large) needed it more than ever – and purely on the virtue of its ability to be entertaining, but also promote the idea of national unity, allows us to admire Fantastic Night as more than just a run-of-the-mill fantasy comedy.

It would be a challenge to find any legitimate fault in this film, whether looking at it as a product of its time, or from a contemporary perspective. It’s a perfectly pleasant film aimed primarily to be a source of entertainment for audiences that had to grapple with severe social conditions brought on by a violent war, and its attempts to simply amuse (rather than spread propaganda, which was all too common a practice at the time) is enough to justify much of the praise it has received. It’s a beautifully enchanting and deeply engaging work that makes clear the direction in which it wants to go and ensures that the viewer is fully secure in the knowledge that it is going to be an unpredictable but undeniably enjoyable journey. Even from the most critical modern standards, Fantastic Night is revolutionary – we may now have access to digital technology that allows us to construct entire worlds from absolutely nothing. However, it still doesn’t come close to the pure artistry that emerges through the practical effects that are used to evoke the dreamlike state in which this film exists. It’s a quietly resilient and deeply sentimental comedy that has a firm grasp on the collective cultural pulse and leaps into the unknown, taking audiences from across geographical and temporal boundaries on a voyage into the human mind, and showing us the magnificent and fantastical worlds that can be created with just our imaginations, a standard that every film would be wise to follow in some way.