What can I say about My Uncle, except that I wanted to like it and didn't? It's the second of four movies by Jacques Tati about Mr. Hulot, a comic character who is out of place in the modern world. Mr. Hulot (played by Tati himself) rarely speaks in My Uncle, not because he's dumb, but because he doesn't have anything to say. No one else in the movie has anything to say either, but they chatter endlessly, trying to keep up with the Joneses and get their worthless technology to work. Mr. Hulot doesn't understand, but he tries to keep up.
Like many silent comedies, there is not much of a story in My Uncle, just a series of vignettes connected together. Although many were slightly amusing, there were no huge laughs in the film and I found long stretches that were unnecessary. This is the sort of movie that would be three stars at ninety minuets but falls just below that at under two hours.
There is a lot to admire here- Tati has an extremely complex mise en scene that I could spend hours deconstructing, and his use of color in the film is downright brilliant- Hulot's tan jacket contrasts heavily with the grey background of his brother in law's house, where most of the film takes place. But I think the film's key problem is that Mr. Hulot is not an endearing comic character like Chaplin's or Keaton's. Although I like Hulot (there is a charming sequence where he takes his nephew for a bike ride in the city, not out of obligation but because he genuinely likes him), his character is rather undeveloped. The movie is more about an sterile environment with a nice person in it, then a nice person reacting to a sterile environment. I never really rooted for protagonist, or got very involved in his story which is must in comedy (W.C. Fields excepted). Unfortunately, a movie meant to decry coldness and modernity becomes a victim of its own subject matter, which is a shame because Mr. Hulot is such a nice guy I really wanted to get know him better.
Mon Oncle (1958)