When it comes to sharp but meaningful satire, few writers were more adept at capturing the social and cultural milieu more than Marcel Pagnol. As both a playwright and filmmaker, he is responsible for several of the most important texts in the history of French literature, being an influential artistic force in both theatre and cinema. While we may never have gotten the chance to see his tremendous plays on stage when they were first produced, he was smart enough to adapt them into films, which have been captured for posterity, allowing audiences decades later to be swept up in the same storm of fierce emotions and undying commitment for the culture from which he was built. I have gone on record as saying that The Baker’s Wife is amongst the greatest films ever made (and it remains one of the few instances where I constantly revisit a film and find new details with every subsequent viewing), and every other work that I have encountered that involved Pagnol – whether as a writer or director – has stirred similar emotions and provoked the same level of deep, reflective thought. One of his finest works is The Well-Digger’s Daughter, which is a celebrated film that has come to be seen as one of the most revolutionary comedies of this era, combining humour and pathos to create a poignant examination of family and culture at a time when such conversations were still quite difficult to portray without resorting to heavy-handed commentary. Focusing on a family driven apart by a misguided romantic encounter, the film blends different genres together to create a vibrant and compelling statement on the importance of familial bonds, and the storms we often have to weather to realize the true impact it has on our lives, which is explored so beautifully in this charming but thought-provoking celebration of life’s many unique quirks.

One of the most endearing qualities of Pagnol’s work is how expansive it feels, despite telling very simple stories. The time in which he was making these films was one that was filled with rapid change in both social structure and political unease (many even consider him to be a pioneer of Vichy-era filmmaking, referring to the brief moment of political upheaval that France endured during the Second World War), but yet he never strove to make definitive texts on any issue. His stories were simple, straightforward accounts built from authentic human emotions, each one a detailed and intricately-woven narrative that is both compelling and deeply meaningful, which is quite a rare detail when it comes to certain filmmakers who often try to capture the same easygoing spirit in contrast to very bold themes. The Well-Digger’s Daughter looks at the theme of family, from the perspective of a widowed well-digger who has raised six daughters on his own, and whose life is thrown into disarray as a result of his oldest child falling pregnant after an unexpected encounter with a local pilot, who subsequently goes missing after being enlisted to fight in the war, and is presumed dead after failing to resurface, leading to the child being born without a father, which only complicates the protagonist’s existential crisis, fueled by his outdated perspective of morality, and the belief that honour is the most important currency a man can possess in a social system built on moral values. The film negotiates its place as a work of solid social satire through engaging with its themes in a way that is resonant and challenging, never aiming for the easier route of layering a message over a very complex story, which is a technique that we can observe in the vast majority of the director’s works, and something that he constantly draws on throughout this story.

Considering the extent to which this story aims to explore the lives of these characters in relation to a very common but still challenging incident, there’s a lot of value in what the director is doing in terms of capturing the spirit of a particular time and place, which was one of his most significant strengths as a storyteller. Pagnol was always very attentive to the social nuances that surrounded his stories – they often feel like the most historically accurate accounts of specific moments in the past, since his focus is almost exclusively on ordinary people and their daily challenges, rather than those who are usually at the heart of such stories. His aims were often to give a voice to characters that represented the invisible majority – blue-collar workers who may not lead exciting lives, but are the lifeblood of the economy, and the people who help keep society afloat in their own small way. Using them as the starting point for his stories, he explores their trials and tribulations, each one pieced together from his own extraordinary understanding of social structure and the people who constitute it. He had a fondness for the working class, and despite being someone who pursued a career in the arts, his heart remained firmly planted in his own proletariat background, from which he drew many of the most resonant and captivating conversations. It allowed him to create depictions of the world through the eyes of those who don’t normally find themselves being protagonists in such stories – and each moment of The Well-Digger’s Daughter feels like it is contributing to his continued exploration of different members of society, and how they all function as part of an expansive cultural ecosystem, vital components that serve a different purpose, but work together to create a cohesive piece of social machinery, which is the driving motif behind many of the director’s greatest works.

However, while his films are fascinating historical documents in themselves, they’re not purely motivated by the desire to record specific details of the time and place in which they were created, but rather intend to capture something more profound, particularly in the conversations evoked through these stories. The Well-Digger’s Daughter follows Pagnol’s tendency to infuse his narratives with a kind of profound resonance, crafting stories that are built on universal themes, each one as riveting today as it was when Pagnol endeavoured to embed them into his work when he was writing them nearly a century ago. This film may take place in a place that is very narrow in terms of technical relevance (since not many of us can relate to the idea of living and working in the provincial French countryside, especially in the era between the two World Wars), but this is a relatively inconsequential detail, since a lot of what draws us into this story is how he weaves together more common ideas in favour of a universal story. Primarily, he is looking at family, which is a recurring concept in his films, albeit where each one looks at a different dynamic. The Well-Digger’s Daughter looks at a man’s relationship with his children, and the challenges he is forced to confront when an unfortunate incident occurs that could strip him of whatever small but respected reputation he held. Pagnol is not a moralist in terms of shaming those who step aside the confines of socially-mandated beliefs, and his process is one very much centered on redemption through conversation – one simply cannot change their way of thinking without experiencing some small crisis of identity, and The Well-Digger’s Daughter is all about how it is important to step away from our preconceived notions of what decency may entail, and instead realize that compassion and empathy, more than anything else, guides many of our relationships. These are important lessons that may seem obvious, but when pieced together by a director as gifted in the art of social commentary, they come to have much more meaning, resonating far wider than the very niche audience that reflects the specific details of the characters at the heart of the film.

Beyond Pagnol, there were a few names synonymous with this era of French comedy, defining this period and proving to be the most significant contributors when it comes to performing in front of the camera. Raimu and Fernandel were so brilliant and iconic, they were capable of going their entire careers using mononyms, since they were ingrained within the cultural consciousness, their presence indicating work of an immensely high calibre, and their performances certain to be effective. The Well-Digger’s Daughter brings them together and allows them a couple of hours to command the screen, bringing their unique sensibilities to this melancholic comedy. They were both adept at humour and pathos, and managed to infuse their performances with shades of both, making this a pair of unforgettable characters that are far more complex than we’d think from a glance. Raimu in particular is incredible – he tempers the performance to be a blend of strong emotions, and we can never tell if one of his scenes will be filled with his unique brand of joyful comedy, or if it will veer towards the more dramatic – and there are several instances of a single scene containing both, often at the same time, which is not something that we can expect from even the most celebrated actors. He has a monologue at a crucial moment in the film that stands as one of the most haunting in the history of cinema – a pure eruption of carefully-curated emotions, handled by an artist who saw himself as less of an actor, and more along the lines of a storyteller, someone inhabiting the body of a particular character and tasked with bringing them to life. His performance makes you stop and ruminate on the incredible power of words, and the collaboration between the director and actor creates something truly astonishing from the most ambiguous and unconventional material.

It is difficult to argue against the reputation that has become part of the legacy of The Well-Digger’s Daughter, which is the kind of masterful examination of deep issues that can only be made by someone with not only a strong knowledge of humanity, but also a deep passion for it, and few filmmakers demonstrate more empathy and enduring love for simple folk than Pagnol. Throughout this film, we see all the elements that made him such a formidable cinematic voice – his writing is sharp and his direction precise, which allows this film to be one of the more interesting of his career, a compelling and meaningful account of the lives of a few ordinary people who are simply aiming to survive as best as they possibly can, despite the circumstances that surround them, which lead to both an abundance of hilarious misadventures and a range of complex conversations on the nature of existence, woven seamlessly together by a director with a forthright compassion for the human condition, and the immense talents to make every encounter with these bold themes seem effortless and perfect. There is a genuine sense of complexity that underpins this film, and the emotions pulsate with ferocity and candour in an almost unprecedented way. The fact that Pagnol was able to take such a simple concept and make it into both a hilarious comedy and riveting melodrama is a testament to his brilliance, and the kind of poignant reminder of the importance of acknowledging family and celebrating life’s many peculiarities, which all amount to a stunning, heartfelt and captivating film that is yet another triumph for someone who is quite simply one of the greatest artists of his era.