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Though the restoration is first rate - these are as sharp as I can remember seeing these particular images - the film itself might now seem a little antiquated to newcomers, all too evidently based on a stage play (by René Fauchois) designed to épater le bourgeois without unduly alienating that audience that went to the theatre or picture palace of the time. (The humanist Renoir - steering his camera towards genteel recreation in parks - likes his characters too much to go too savagely for their throats; the cinema would have to wait a few decades for Buñuel's late 1960s output to truly tear into the middle-classes.) Boudu's reputation thus more or less rests entirely on Simon's towering performance as one of the movies' very greatest tramps: scratchy and bearded and crotchety, giving the impression of someone who's genuinely turned up on set half-cut, while never once suggesting a major star of stage and screen - as he was at this moment - slumming it. He's having a ball, treating his new home in much the same way Belmondo (surely the actor's rightful heir) did the South of France in Pierrot le Fou - as his own personal playground, which is perhaps why the film remains such good, solid, mildly naughty fun.
Boudu Saved From Drowning opens in selected cinemas from tomorrow.
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