Jean Vigo: The Dreamer’s Uprising

Shame on those who, during their puberty, murdered the person they might have become.”

Jean Vigo

Top 10 Ranking

FilmYear
1. L’Atalante1934
2. Zero for Conduct1933
A delicate arrangement of bottles and crockery to obstruct this romantic frame in L’Atalante.

Best Film: L’Atalante

L’Atalante is a fable of ruptured innocence, jealousy, and temptation, tugging at the seams of a fragile relationship between a skipper and his newlywed wife Juliette. It is a seminal early work of France’s poetic realism, showcasing the sort of cluttered mise-en-scène that Josef von Sternberg was similarly innovating in the early 1930s, as well as gorgeous location shooting around the industrial docks of Paris. Jean Vigo’s storytelling is classical, but his fondness for the avant-garde also reveals itself in the surreal, underwater visions of Juliette, romantically escaping the cinematic conventions of the era.

Lovely depth of field showing off the beauty of France’s canals and Jean’s playful personality, revelling in the innocent romance of young newlyweds.

Most Overrated – L’Atalante

L’Atalante is rightfully beloved by many cinephiles, but not quite the 20th best film of all time as the TSPDT consensus would have us believe. Its grand ambitions in mise-en-scène, editing, and characterisation can be appreciated without placing it upon such a high pedestal, still giving Jean Vigo his due as a pioneer of French cinema in the 1930s. Perhaps 300 spots lower would suit it just fine, treading the border between Must-See and Masterpiece range.

Vigo’s trademark high angles serve a practical purpose here, capturing the entire ensemble in close quarters while emphasising the ship’s claustrophobia. Frames like these reveal Vigo’s tremendous talent, yet don’t quite place L’Atalante on the same level as history’s most breathtaking works of cinema.

Most Underrated – Nothing

Zero for Conduct is also a little overrated at #219 on TSPDT, so there are no real candidates here. For a man whose filmography is so short, Jean Vigo’s reputation in the cinephile community is extraordinary – and perhaps slightly inflated.

Gem to Spotlight – Zero for Conduct

At 43 minutes, Zero for Conduct achieves far more than most feature films do in two hours. It isn’t too difficult to imagine how Jean Vigo might have flourished during the French New Wave some 30 years later, though given the impact that Zero for Conduct bears upon François Truffaut, perhaps this would also defeat the point of its influence. The young director is evidently far ahead of his time, crafting a coming-of-age tale which revels in its carefree naturalism and youthful outlook. Vigo is economical indeed with his nonchalant pacing, smoothly shifting between vignettes that progressively mount a rising disenchantment among a cohort of schoolboys plotting to overthrow their tyrannical teachers.

Zero for Conduct isn’t as visually gorgeous as L’Atalante, but still demonstrates formal rigour in Vigo’s recurring high angles – undoubtedly the mark of an auteur.

Key Collaborator – Boris Kaufman

The cinematographer who later shot towering Hollywood classics such as 12 Angry Men and On the Waterfront got his start here with Jean Vigo, filming everything from his short documentaries to his narrative features. The two were virtually inseparable, experimenting in tracking shots, crowded mise-en-scène, location shooting, and dramatic camera angles right up until Vigo’s untimely death at age 29.

Unlike Vigo, Kaufman would have a long and impressive career, eventually moving to Hollywood to become one of its most dependable cinematographers. In L’Atalante especially he showcases a mastery of shooting industrial architecture, here forging a perfect frame from steel beams.

Key Influence – Sergei Eisenstein

Jean Vigo possesses a clear affinity for Eisenstein’s socialist ideals as a filmmaker, seeking to break free of artistic constraints by similarly liberating his characters from their own metaphoric chains. This is clearest in the schoolyard revolution of Zero for Conduct, emphasising cohesive units over individuals in what Eisenstein labelled a ‘monistic ensemble’ – a sense of group identity achieved through complete visual unity. He was not quite operating at the same level as the trailblazing Soviet montagist, but when his editing turned towards the abstract, his crafty manipulations in the cutting room moulded the flow of time itself.

Eisenstein’s monistic ensemble accentuates group identity over the individual, and Vigo carries it through here in Zero for Conduct with similarly socialist sensibilities.

Cultural Context and Artistic Innovations

The story of Jean Vigo’s career as a director is tragically brief. Two short documentaries, a featurette, and a feature film make up his entire resume, and as mentioned before, L’Atalante does the heavy lifting for his critical reputation. He was an early pioneer of poetic realism, though where his contemporaries were concerned with notions of fate and morality, his films were pervaded by a revolutionary sensibility – no great surprise for the child of a militant anarchist.

Vigo established his sympathies for the downtrodden right from the start in À propos de Nice, creatively documenting the social inequalities among the people of Nice. It wasn’t until his featurette Zero for Conduct though that he found the narrative tools to give this theme cinematic form, turning a schoolboy rebellion into a scaled-down French Revolution. There is a tension between order and chaos in his blocking, often captured in high angles that frame the ensemble’s synchronised formations, and which would soon prove to be his trademark shot.

Order and chaos in the boys’ dormitory, mirrored in these twin shots.
Chaos and order in the classroom, once again using a high angle to formally contrast both states.

The revolt in Vigo’s final film L’Atalante is quieter and more psychological, with married couple of Jean and Juliette rejecting bourgeois ideals in favour of emotional authenticity and personal freedom. The boat which they turn into their home is a strong metaphor here, drifting along the canals of France without being anchored to any single port. The accomplishment of mise-en-scène is also a step up, making for crowded, claustrophobic interiors that deny these characters any chance of privacy, though at the same time Vigo possesses an almost utopian faith in the community they entail. L’Atalante is far more lyrical than it is playful, but this hymn to love’s endurance is just as impassioned as Zero for Conduct’s celebration of youth.

Michel Simon’s lively performance in L’Atalante is consumed by the assorted trinkets and souvenirs of his tiny cabin, obstructing the frame on every side.
Jean and his ship in the foreground, the industrial structures of the docks in the background – Vigo shoots on location along the rivers of France to ground this fable in a recognisable reality.

Both these films are lean, yet expansive in feeling. Vigo avoids redundancy, favouring vignettes and emotionally resonant beats that accumulate meaning rather than deliver it through exposition. As children tease each other in Zero for Conduct, the film itself becomes a prank on authority, while the eccentric antics of Père Jules in L’Atalante imbues its romance with whimsical comic relief.

Form-breaking playfulness as this caricature springs to animated life, mocking the school’s authority figures.
The highpoint of Vigo’s short career – the schoolboys joyously rebel in slow-motion, feathers floating through the air as they exit the dormitory in an exuberant procession.

Vigo often takes his spirited, formal experimentation a step further though, paving the path to freedom through brief moments of transcension when reality gives way to surrealism. Animated caricatures leap to life with form-shattering irreverence in Zero for Conduct, and at its most awe-inspiring, the schoolboys’ joyous mutiny revels in one of cinema’s earliest displays of slow-motion. Meanwhile, L’Atalante conjures underwater visions of love through surreal dissolves and double exposure effects, sinking us into Jean’s aching, disorientated mind as he dives beneath the Seine.

With Zero for Conduct facing censorship issues and the final edit of L’Atalante escaping his artistic control, Vigo never reaped the financial reward for his films. At age 29, he died of tuberculosis, a mere month after L’Atalante’s release. Nevertheless, his cinematic legacy was already cemented, romantically liberating cinema from convention in pursuit of emotional and political truth.

Long dissolves and double exposure effects as Jean sinks into the depths of the Seine, summoning surreal visions of his lost love.
Vigo chooses to end Zero for Conduct on a low angle instead of his characteristic high angle as the boys finally subvert the school’s authority, rising to the level of heroes.

Director Archives

YearFilmGrade
1931À propos de NiceUnrated (documentary)
1933Zero for ConductMS
1934L’AtalanteMS/MP

Zero for Conduct (1933)

Jean Vigo | 43min

The rule of law is little more than an arbitrary imposition of authority in Zero for Conduct, and it is up to no one but the roguish schoolboys of its French boarding school to restore the natural order. For Caussaut, Colin, and Bruel in particular, a revolt is sorely needed for the students to counter that titular disciplinary punishment, condemning them to detention on Sundays. As such, they spend lunchtimes plotting against their teachers, planning a mutiny for commemoration day when staff and alumni gather to celebrate the school, and hoping to reclaim their liberty in a scaled-down yet equally impassioned French Revolution.

These three students are certainly not the only disenfranchised members of their cohort though. It is only natural that boys this age should seek to satiate their curiosity through play and pushing boundaries, so Jean Vigo often gathers them into what Sergei Eisenstein once labelled a ‘monistic ensemble’ – a sense of group identity achieved through complete visual unity. High angles are often used here to frame them in systematic formations, lined up along their dormitory beds or sitting at classroom desks, but so too do these same shots often capture them running through amok with gleeful abandon.

The high angle is Vigo’s trademark shot, often put to good use in wides that capture his ensemble.
Visual form in the high angle of the dormitory, mirroring order and chaos among the students.
This comparison is a running motif for Vigo, studying how the boys’ wild urges are restrained by authority.

Together, these children pass time with pranks and games, only really pulling themselves into line when ordered. Even then though, little can truly quell that stubborn streak of independence which interprets commands as challenges. When the oddly affectionate science teacher questions Tabard on why he isn’t taking notes, the student viciously bites back, and the arrival of a spirited class supervisor who does Charlie Chaplin impressions certainly doesn’t help to keep them under control.

Chaplin impressions from class supervisor Huguet, sympathising with the children’s playful spirit.

It isn’t too difficult to imagine how Vigo might have flourished during the French New Wave some 30 years later, though given the impact that Zero for Conduct bears upon François Truffaut, perhaps this would also defeat the point of its influence. The young director is evidently far ahead of his time, crafting a coming-of-age featurette which revels in its carefree naturalism and youthful outlook. Its brevity matters little with a director who knows exactly how long his story needs, and Vigo is economical indeed with his nonchalant pacing, smoothly shifting between vignettes that progressively mount a rising disenchantment.

Vigo does not focus on individual characters so much as he does the group identity, blocking them as a single unit in his high angles looking down from above.

This is not even to mention the form-shattering irreverence that comes with Zero for Conduct’s brief dip into animation, bringing to life a caricature the childlike supervisor Huguet draws while performing a handstand to impress the students. Its resemblance to the their tall, moustachioed teacher is no mistake, entertaining the children for a short time before its subject arrives and discovers the drawing. Taken by surprise, the lanky cartoon leaps into the air, before transforming before our eyes into a stout, potbellied figure of Napoleon. Vigo is harsh in his comparison of the school staff to iconic tyrants, though given the role these students have taken as revolutionaries, his political metaphor falls cleanly into place.

Mischief and irreverence as this caricature leaps to animated life, satirising the tyrants who rule this school.

Especially once we reach the boys’ day of emancipation, it is impossible to deny that their rebellion is anything other than a repeat of history. “Liberty or death!” they cry in their dormitory, raising flags and declaring war on the staff. Those glorious high angles return as the young insurgents form a procession, before launching an assault on their teacher using bed frames, blankets, and pillows. In this moment of euphoric anarchy, Vigo also initiates one of cinema’s earliest and greatest displays of slow-motion, revelling in the joyous mutiny. Feathers float through the air as the children carry their leader out on a chair, their elation blissfully stretched out in time and spurring them on to the next phase of their revolution.

Pure elation as the boys prepare for war and Vigo captures it all in slow-motion, spurring them on to the next phase of their revolution.

From atop the roof, the boys pelt guests visiting the school for its commemoration day with junk, much to the staff’s humiliation and displeasure. With the pomp and circumstance dissipating and Huguet cheering them on below, it is apparent that Vigo cares little for whatever consequences should arrive after Zero for Conduct’s final shot of the boys victoriously reaching the top of the roof, finally earning a heroic low angle. Their voices sing a proud anthem as the screen fades to black, and in this single, fleeting moment of their stifled youth, the taste of freedom is the purest they will ever know.

A heroic low angle as the boys joyously proclaim victory, standing atop the school building.

Zero for Conduct is currently streaming on The Criterion Channel.