This little French film from the Thirties is sweet and sharp as well. The village has a new baker, and bread being the staple of their lives, he becomes the local celebrity. He has a pretty wife who works hard. He is a rather fat, homely man who worships her, even though there is little physical love between them. The people in town ultimately care more for his bread than him. So during a single day, they parry and thrust around him, trying to figure out what to do to raise his spirits. There is a vacuous, know it all priest who pontificates about everything but who has no trouble benefitting form the kindness of his flock. He has all the answers but no answers at all but he maintains an elevated position. But the baker is the character most admirable. He is forgiving. He is faithful. He sees the world for what it is although he loses control at one point. The ending is not maudlin. The townsmen still want the bread more than anything. But they are also happy for him.

Know Marcel Pagnol best from his script writing for the wonderful Marseille trilogy (comprising of 1931's 'Marius', 1932's 'Fanny' and 1936's 'Cesar) adapted from his stage play. He also directed, brilliantly, 'Cesar' and anybody who hasn't seen either of those three films should do so before watching 'The Baker's Wife'. That way you know what to expect, as the same qualities can actually be seen here too. Also it has Raimu, who was in all three of those films and so wonderful in them.

'The Baker's Wife' is every bit as good as all three films in the Marseille trilogy, a little better than 'Fanny' and 'Cesar' and on the same level as 'Marius', and essential Pagnol and Raimu. Even if it is not quite as complex or as emotionally impactful as those films. And for all the same reasons as to what made those films so good. It is amazing that someone originated in theatrical/stage origins and then went on to become an important French film-maker when the transition from silents to talkies was starting to develop.

First and foremost, there is nothing stagy about the production values, amazing considering some involved like all three films in the Marseille trilogy started their careers in theatre or music hall beforehand. The locations are beautiful and very naturalistic, the never confined but never overblown photography opening up what could easily have been too much of a filmed play equally beautifully. Vincent Scotto's score is typically whimsical and vibrant and Pagnol's direction is never static or overly theatrical, he stays true to his roots while opening up the drama enough so it does feel cinematic enough.

Script-wise, 'The Baker's Wife' has amusing moments but in a gentle and gently witty way rather than in a broad or juvenile one, which suits the material beautifully, and lots of charm and emotion too. Any tonal shifts don't jar and it doesn't come over as awkward or talk heavy. The story is like with all the Marseille trilogy immensely charming and never creaky, also found it easy to be emotionally invested by it and really appreciated its humanity. Something that Pagnol was very good at.

As well as providing richly developed characters that are relatable in their strengths and flaws in situations that are hardly out of date today. It is very easy to warm to Raimu's character and quite a lot of it is down to Raimu's wonderfully nuanced and moving performance. In a film where all the actors suit their roles very well, though Raimu is in a different league to everybody else.

Overall, wonderful. 10/10

This one comes with a rep that almost dares you NOT to like it for none other than the Great Orson Welles declared it the greatest movie ever made and star Raimu the greatest actor. Welles is no slouch himself and many there are, including myself, who consider his own Citizen Kane to be in the all-time No #1 spot but, let's face it, old Awesome knows a thing or two when it comes to judging celluloid. This is, of course, a Marcel Pagnol production which presupposes several things; it will be set in the South of France barely a Long Shot from Marseille and it's twelve to seven to feature Raimu heading an ensemble cast of Pagnol regulars. So it is here with Raimu as the eponymous baker who has barely sold his first batch than his wife takes it on the Jesse Owens with the local stud. The smiles, if not outright belly laughs, on the faces of the villagers freeze pretty damn quick once they realize that no wife equals no bread which means that they set about locating and returning the wife. End of (very simple) story. But as someone once said it's the way you tell them and Pagnol has Scherezade beat seven ways from the middle; once again as in his celebrated trilogy (Marius, Fanny, Cesar, in case you just got here via a wormhole) he evokes an entire community with just a few strokes of the pen or, in this case, lens, so that what we have is a lovingly painted portrait of a small town not a million miles from the one Jack Ford devised for The Quiet Man and complete with a richly assorted set of residents. The closing scene where the errant wife ignites the fire in the oven may be a tad symbolic but when it occurs in such a warm film who cares.