• Reviews

• All
• Music
• DVDs
• Live
• Cinema
• TV
• Books
• Comic Books
• Video Games

Apr 20, 2025 Web Exclusive By Kaveh Jalinous Photography by The Criterion Collection

As a cinephile (and critic?), there are certain movies that follow you throughout your lifetime. For those who watch a lot of films—and in quick succession—people tend to assume you’ve seen everything, as if the number of films ever made isn’t well into the hundreds of thousands by now. When I’m hit with the “you haven’t seen [X] movie?!”, whether it’s coming from family, friends or even a complete stranger, I usually smile and tell them that “I’ll get to it eventually.”

Perhaps the film that I’ve been reprimanded for never having seen the most is, oddly enough, Claude Berri’s Jean de Florette (1986). The French classic—a remake of a Marcel Pagnol film of the same name—is like a sacred text in my household; a film used to represent all of French cinema. (The New Wave films are mentioned too, of course, but for my family, Jean de Florette might as well be the pinnacle of French filmmaking.) When I learned about the Criterion Collection’s restoration and release of the film—both Jean de Florette and its sequel, Manon of the Spring, are now available in a stunning 4K UHD boxset—I knew that my chance had finally come. At long last, I’ve found myself swept into the (literally) stunning and (metaphorically) shady foothills of Provence.

Jean de Florette and Manon of the Spring are two parts of the same story. Set in the South of France, Jean de Florette follows two schemers—uncle César (Yves Montand) and his nephew Ugolin (Daniel Auteuil), the last living members of the Soubeyran family—who discover that they can make a fortune on growing carnations, rather than crops typical to their region. The only problem: carnations require a lot of water, water that neither family member has access to. They forge a plan to divert another estate’s healthy spring to their land. When the heir of that estate—Jean (Gérard Depardieu), with his wife Aimée (Élisabeth Depardieu) and daughter Manon (Ernestine Mazurowna in Jean; Emmanuelle Béart in Manon)—arrive at the villa, having moved from Paris to live a simpler life, Ugolin takes a kinship with Jean, all while stealing his water behind his back. From there, a story of deceit, ferociousness and revenge begins, one that will span decades in the lives of these characters.

Jean de Florette and Manon of the Spring are seeped in dramatic irony. One of the films’ most striking elements is how we’re essentially chained to the film’s villains from start to finish. Jean de Florette opens with Ugolin returning to his village after World War I. We spend the entire film’s first act with him and César, watching them scheme to rob Jean long before he and his family arrive at their estate. This effect subverts viewer expectations. Jean de Florette could have easily cosplayed as a film about an urbanite seeking the rural calm but failing to blend in, whether that’s because of cultural differences, a lack of environmental understanding or simple hubris. The fact that we know it’s not Jean’s lack of expertise causing his and his family’s struggles, but the cruelty of others and the dog-eat-dog nature of the world, gives the story an additional sting. In Manon of the Spring, this irony continues, but more of the story is told from Manon’s perspective, a welcome refresh that makes adequate space for shocking revelations.

Both films are certainly melodramatic—through Manon, there’s a warped hero’s journey, and through the cast of characters, there are true heroes and villains. Even so, the films feel astonishingly simple and quotidian. Like many of Pagnol’s stories, Jean and Manon situate viewers in a location; the South of France is a character of its own. By the midway point of the first film, the hills of Provence and the characters’ small town (with its all-important water fountain) feel so familiar; the path from Ugolin’s to Jean’s house so forged. And, in true Pagnol fashion, Provence is framed as a utopia of sorts, whose lush, Garden of Eden-like hues and stunning topography excellently contrast the cruel natures of those who live there. Watching these characters go about their routines, hearing the sound of birds and crickets in the background; it all feels so inviting, even if both films are much darker and more testing than you’d expect.

The 4K digital restorations of the films bring out their bold color palettes in an unforgettable way (it’s safe to say Provence has rarely looked this good on film). The Criterion Collection’s release is surprisingly light on special features, but—given the set includes both 4K UHD and Blu-ray versions of the films—that’s more than okay. The two featurettes, a documentary on director Claude Berri and a documentary about the films’ production (they were shot at the same time and released in the same year), further cement Criterion’s newest release as an instant buy.

(https://www.criterion.com/boxsets/7935-jean-de-florette-manon-of-the-spring-two-films-by-claude-berri)