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Category: Film Review

From the Archives) Film Analysis: Oil Culture in The Umbrellas of Cherbourg

This post was originally published on November 26, 2019.

By Siobhan Nelson

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, Jacques Demy’s 1964 musical film, tells a brilliantly crafted story about the dichotomies of life—success and hardship, youth and maturity, love and heartbreak. Divided into three vignettes with each beginning in 1957, 1959, and 1963, the story centers on Guy Foucher, a mechanic at a local garage, and Genevieve Emery, a young woman who helps her mother run an umbrella shop. Guy and Genevieve’s story is ultimately one of star-crossed lovers who are kept apart by obligation to family, duty to country, and class expectations. Shortly into their romance, Guy is drafted to fight in the Algerian War and must leave Genevieve behind. When he returns, he finds that things are no longer the same and becomes deeply unhappy. Time passes, and Guy is able to find stability and success, which come in the form of running his own Esso gas station.

Amidst so much change, the only constant is the presence of oil; not necessarily oil itself but the culture of oil. Though The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is ultimately a tale of romance, it also serves as a point of reference for the role of oil in post-war French society. The narrative of oil within the film is in fact a romantic one, idealizing the perceived power that oil has in guiding ‘lost souls’ to piece their lives back together. The post-war setting of the film makes this hopeful message especially pertinent. Understanding the cultural and temporal contexts are key to realizing the importance of the references to oil throughout the film.

Oil in Cherbourg, France

The decision to set the film in Cherbourg, as opposed to any other French city, is particularly important. Cherbourg is located at the northern tip of the Cotentin Peninsula and is a historically significant port city, connected to a global exchange of both tangible and intangible goods. The port was the site of the Battle of Cherbourg, which was part of the larger invasion of Normandy during World War II. Oil was necessary to facilitate almost every aspect of the war—from the transportation of goods and troops to running machines that manufactured weapons and other equipment.

Cherbourg, France. (Google Maps)

Oil in The Film

The film convincingly represents oil as a multifaceted thing. It can be glamorous with flashy cars and garage managers in their white coats, but it can also be dirty and at times dangerous (i.e. war). Class is a central theme in the film and the differences are established based on a character’s relationship to oil.

Roland Cassard, for example, is a wealthy jeweler who wears sleek suits and drives a Mercedes. Meanwhile, Guy repairs his car in an oil-stained jumpsuit. In a mere six years, however, Guy is able to shift from working as a mechanic to owning an Esso gas station. The gas station, which is called the “Escale Cherbourgeouise”, is a play-on-words to reflect his change in social status. Most basically, the name means “Cherbourgian Stopover” but the phrase can also be translated as “a bourgeois step up” (Rosenbaum 1996). In these clever ways, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg suggests that car and oil culture can act as a means of upward social mobility and as a beacon of hope for post-war French society.

Guy as a mechanic.
Guy in the process of opening his gas station.

The Role of Film

One may question why such a representation of oil would be important to the film. Many argue that the piece is simply a brilliant example of product placement for Esso. Others say that it depicts the Americanization of a small French town and the impact that globalization has on the physical and cultural landscape of a place (Rosenbaum 1996). And yet, I think it is important to look beyond the obvious visual references, the Esso signs and Mercedes cars, and examine the relationship that The Umbrellas of Cherbourg establishes with its viewers. While the story and imagery within the film are grounded in reality, the extent of the oil culture is arguably exaggerated. Records indicate that though one out of three people in the United States owned a car in 1961, in France, this number was only one out of eight (Ross 1995: 27). So why are cars and oil culture so prevalent in the movie? In her work titled Fast Cars, Clean Bodies: Decolonization and the Reordering of French Culture, Kristin Ross writes,

“In production, cars had paved the way for film; now, film would help create the conditions for the motorization of Europe; the two technologies reinforced each other. Their shared qualities- movement, image, mechanization, standardization- made movies and cars the key commodity- vehicles of a complete transformation in European consumption and culture habits.” (Ross 1995: 38)

Ross points to the back-and-forth dialogue that exists between cars and film, which I extend to oil culture and film. Though society has the power to influence how a film is created and what is shown, movies can also transform culture through its patrons. In the case of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, though cars were in fact an emerging phenomenon in France, their prominence in the film is amplified to emphasize the extent that oil culture can and will contribute to the rebuilding of French society.

In many ways, I think this is a much more powerful flow of influence. Films have the ability to transcend time and can be viewed for decades and centuries after they are made. For French citizens viewing The Umbrellas of Cherbourg in the 1960s, the work provided a hopeful image of post-war prosperity and success enabled by oil. For anyone sitting down to watch the film today, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg continues to provide valuable insight into one way that French oil culture was regarded at the time while doing so in a very lovely way.

The final scene.

About the Author: Siobhan is a first-year master’s student in the Department of City and Regional Planning. She is specializing in transportation planning and is interested in public transportation as a way to promote equity and improve community vibrancy. She received her B.A. from Bryn Mawr College, with a major in the Growth and Structure of Cities and a minor in Environmental Studies. In her free time, she enjoys listening to 80s music and baking cakes.

Featured Image: Still from The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, dir. Jaques Demy.

  • Hallas, D. “The French Oil Industry.” Geography 42.4 (1957): 253-56. Print.
  • Harrison, Christopher. “French Attitudes to Empire and the Algerian War.” African Affairs 82.326 (1983): 75-95. Print.
  • Kamen-Kaye, Maurice. “Petroleum Development in Algeria.” Geographical Review 48.4 (1958): 463-73. Print.
  • Ross, Kristin. Fast Cars, Clean Bodies: Decolonization and the Reordering French Culture. Cambridge, MA: MIT, 1995. Print.
  • The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. Dir. Jacques Demy. 1964.
  • Walton, George, and Raoul Rajk. “Geophysical History of Parentis Oil Field, France.” Geophysics 21.3 (1956): 815-27. Print.
  • Yergin, Daniel. The Prize: the Epic Quest for Oil, Money, and Power. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1991. Print.

The Power Broker: The Movie! Motherless Brooklyn and Villainy in the Planning World

By Evan King
Alec Baldwin plays Moses Randolph, a Robert Moses Analogue, in Edward Norton’s Motherless Brooklyn

Recently, I went with two of my classmates to the Chapel Hill premier of Motherless Brooklyn, Edward Norton’s new noir drama, featuring Jane Jacobs in all her sharp-witted, bespectacled glory, and Robert Moses as a fully-fledged Hollywood villain. It felt like an obvious choice for me, as a planning student, but I really had to wonder how fans of the original book would process the differences. The book, so I’ve been told, is a detective novel with the protagonist going after a Japanese seafood cartel, while the movie has the same detective, 50 years earlier, grappling with the injustices of urban renewal.

Well, maybe not exactly, he is solving murders, trying to keep loved ones safe, while getting a lesson in mid-century growth-machine politics and power dynamics. As far as realism goes, this is where it gets a bit ridiculous – the real Robert Moses did not hire goons to kill people. His was not a reign of terror, but crucially, one of unshakable financial and bureaucratic control and mistaken public worship. This is alluded to by one character during a brief scene, but the need for fast-paced danger in a movie obliges some more crass methods on the part of Alec Baldwin’s Moses.

If you are not familiar, Robert Moses was a public official in New York who assumed vast powers over the city’s (and region’s) public works construction for much of the 20th century, through manipulation of political and governmental processes, toll revenue collection, and sheer force of personality and will among other things. Much of the city’s modern landscape and problems are the result of his efforts, as are, arguably, those of the country as a whole – he trained planners from all around the United States in his arts of relentless freeway building and degradation of public transit. Moses retained power during the mid-20th century, a time of extreme generosity of federal funding for public works and trust in public officials in the United States. These circumstances have since changed, so contemporary planners struggle to collectively undo what he did, in a congealing world of cars and highways of his making.

The Robert Moses portrayed in Motherless Brooklyn (pseudonym Moses Randolph) is evil, exalting in the power to ruin vast numbers of people’s lives (Robert Moses displaced vast numbers of minorities and other disadvantaged people in clearing corridors for his urban freeways), where the one in The Power Broker is simply blind, unaware of his cruelty, still less of his horrific and lasting impact on the American city. Even the overwhelming arrogance that author Robert Caro speaks of is more paternalistic than sociopathic. Still, what both versions have in common is power disease – lust for power for its own sake. This is what makes Robert Moses (in Caro’s depiction) the quintessential Hollywood villain. If you’ve read The Power Broker, you can probably imagine no more apt historical figure for a villainous monologue (Dick Cheney maybe), and on that score, this movie delivers.

I sure would have enjoyed a more in-depth depiction of Moses’ empire, but the movie also happens to be a highly enjoyable detective drama with other characters and dimensions. I am not a film critic, but I do know that a movie can’t do everything, certainly not capture the whole essence of a very long and deeply researched book. Still, this is likely the closest thing we’ll see to “The Power Broker, the Movie” and I am inevitably left wanting more.

Photo Credit: Wikimedia Commons and Warner Brothers Pictures

About the Author: Evan King is a first year masters student in city and regional planning. His interests include transportation policy in the developing world, light rail, and freight movement on inland waterways. He can found in his free time trying to kayak long distances and making hand-drawn maps. Evan hails from central Connecticut and completed an undergraduate degree in Maryland. Opinions are his own.


Film Analysis: Oil Culture in The Umbrellas of Cherbourg

By Siobhan Nelson

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, Jacques Demy’s 1964 musical film, tells a brilliantly crafted story about the dichotomies of life—success and hardship, youth and maturity, love and heartbreak. Divided into three vignettes with each beginning in 1957, 1959, and 1963, the story centers on Guy Foucher, a mechanic at a local garage, and Genevieve Emery, a young woman who helps her mother run an umbrella shop. Guy and Genevieve’s story is ultimately one of star-crossed lovers who are kept apart by obligation to family, duty to country, and class expectations. Shortly into their romance, Guy is drafted to fight in the Algerian War and must leave Genevieve behind. When he returns, he finds that things are no longer the same and becomes deeply unhappy. Time passes, and Guy is able to find stability and success, which come in the form of running his own Esso gas station.

Amidst so much change, the only constant is the presence of oil; not necessarily oil itself but the culture of oil. Though The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is ultimately a tale of romance, it also serves as a point of reference for the role of oil in post-war French society. The narrative of oil within the film is in fact a romantic one, idealizing the perceived power that oil has in guiding ‘lost souls’ to piece their lives back together. The post-war setting of the film makes this hopeful message especially pertinent. Understanding the cultural and temporal contexts are key to realizing the importance of the references to oil throughout the film.

Oil in Cherbourg, France

The decision to set the film in Cherbourg, as opposed to any other French city, is particularly important. Cherbourg is located at the northern tip of the Cotentin Peninsula and is a historically significant port city, connected to a global exchange of both tangible and intangible goods. The port was the site of the Battle of Cherbourg, which was part of the larger invasion of Normandy during World War II. Oil was necessary to facilitate almost every aspect of the war—from the transportation of goods and troops to running machines that manufactured weapons and other equipment.

Cherbourg, France. (Google Maps)

Oil in The Film

The film convincingly represents oil as a multifaceted thing. It can be glamorous with flashy cars and garage managers in their white coats, but it can also be dirty and at times dangerous (i.e. war). Class is a central theme in the film and the differences are established based on a character’s relationship to oil.

Roland Cassard, for example, is a wealthy jeweler who wears sleek suits and drives a Mercedes. Meanwhile, Guy repairs his car in an oil-stained jumpsuit. In a mere six years, however, Guy is able to shift from working as a mechanic to owning an Esso gas station. The gas station, which is called the “Escale Cherbourgeouise”, is a play-on-words to reflect his change in social status. Most basically, the name means “Cherbourgian Stopover” but the phrase can also be translated as “a bourgeois step up” (Rosenbaum 1996). In these clever ways, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg suggests that car and oil culture can act as a means of upward social mobility and as a beacon of hope for post-war French society.

Guy as a mechanic.
Guy in the process of opening his gas station.

The Role of Film

One may question why such a representation of oil would be important to the film. Many argue that the piece is simply a brilliant example of product placement for Esso. Others say that it depicts the Americanization of a small French town and the impact that globalization has on the physical and cultural landscape of a place (Rosenbaum 1996). And yet, I think it is important to look beyond the obvious visual references, the Esso signs and Mercedes cars, and examine the relationship that The Umbrellas of Cherbourg establishes with its viewers. While the story and imagery within the film are grounded in reality, the extent of the oil culture is arguably exaggerated. Records indicate that though one out of three people in the United States owned a car in 1961, in France, this number was only one out of eight (Ross 1995: 27). So why are cars and oil culture so prevalent in the movie? In her work titled Fast Cars, Clean Bodies: Decolonization and the Reordering of French Culture, Kristin Ross writes,

“In production, cars had paved the way for film; now, film would help create the conditions for the motorization of Europe; the two technologies reinforced each other. Their shared qualities- movement, image, mechanization, standardization- made movies and cars the key commodity- vehicles of a complete transformation in European consumption and culture habits.” (Ross 1995: 38)

Ross points to the back-and-forth dialogue that exists between cars and film, which I extend to oil culture and film. Though society has the power to influence how a film is created and what is shown, movies can also transform culture through its patrons. In the case of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, though cars were in fact an emerging phenomenon in France, their prominence in the film is amplified to emphasize the extent that oil culture can and will contribute to the rebuilding of French society.

In many ways, I think this is a much more powerful flow of influence. Films have the ability to transcend time and can be viewed for decades and centuries after they are made. For French citizens viewing The Umbrellas of Cherbourg in the 1960s, the work provided a hopeful image of post-war prosperity and success enabled by oil. For anyone sitting down to watch the film today, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg continues to provide valuable insight into one way that French oil culture was regarded at the time while doing so in a very lovely way.

The final scene.

About the Author: Siobhan is a first-year master’s student in the Department of City and Regional Planning. She is specializing in transportation planning and is interested in public transportation as a way to promote equity and improve community vibrancy. She received her B.A. from Bryn Mawr College, with a major in the Growth and Structure of Cities and a minor in Environmental Studies. In her free time, she enjoys listening to 80s music and baking cakes.

Featured Image: Still from The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, dir. Jaques Demy.

  • Hallas, D. “The French Oil Industry.” Geography 42.4 (1957): 253-56. Print.
  • Harrison, Christopher. “French Attitudes to Empire and the Algerian War.” African Affairs 82.326 (1983): 75-95. Print.
  • Kamen-Kaye, Maurice. “Petroleum Development in Algeria.” Geographical Review 48.4 (1958): 463-73. Print.
  • Ross, Kristin. Fast Cars, Clean Bodies: Decolonization and the Reordering French Culture. Cambridge, MA: MIT, 1995. Print.
  • The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. Dir. Jacques Demy. 1964.
  • Walton, George, and Raoul Rajk. “Geophysical History of Parentis Oil Field, France.” Geophysics 21.3 (1956): 815-27. Print.
  • Yergin, Daniel. The Prize: the Epic Quest for Oil, Money, and Power. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1991. Print.

Essential Urbanist Documentaries from the National Film Board of Canada

The National Film Board of Canada–NFB (Office National du Film du Canada–ONF) was established as the National Film Commission in 1939 during the third government of Prime Minister William Lyon MacKenzie King. As Canada’s public film producer and distributor, the NFB’s mission as set forth in the National Film Act of 1950 has been “to produce and distribute and to promote the production and distribution of films designed to interpret Canada to Canadians and to other nations.” As part of this mandate, the NFB has produced over 13,000 works that speak to issues of national and international importance. As I have also come to find out, its collection is also a treasure trove of historically-relevant urbanist films. From feature-length interviews with Jane Jacobs to vignettes about Montreal neighborhoods in transition, here are some must-see titles for your next urbanist movie night:

Regina Telebus (1973)

“This short film from 1973 offers a report on Regina’s successful experiment with dial-a-bus, a flexible service midway between a bus and a taxi. The idea is to provide passengers with door-to-destination transportation at an affordable cost.”

Regina Telebus, Rex Tasker, provided by the National Film Board of Canada,

September Five at Saint-Henri (1962)

“This short film is a series of vignettes of life in Saint-Henri, a Montreal working-class district, on the first day of school. From dawn to midnight, we take in the neighbourhood’s pulse: a mother fussing over children, a father’s enforced idleness, teenage boys clowning, young lovers dallying – the unposed quality of daily life.”

September Five at Saint-Henri, Hubert Aquin, provided by the National Film Board of Canada

A Capital Plan (1949)

“This short documentary features a portrait of Ottawa in the mid-20th century, as the nascent Canadian capital grew with force but without direction. Street congestion, air pollution, and rail traffic were all the negative results of a city that had grown without being properly planned. French architect and urban designer Jacques Gréber stepped in to create a far-sighted plan for the future development of Ottawa. With tracks moved, factories relocated, and neighbourhoods redesigned as separate communities, Ottawa became the capital city of true beauty and dignity we know today.”

A Capital Plan, Bernard Devlin, provided by the National Film Board of Canada

Chairs for Lovers (1973)

“In this documentary short, Vancouver architect Stanley King demonstrates his method for involving the public in urban design. Called the “draw-in/design-in”, the method is applied to a downtown Vancouver area slated for redevelopment. How can it be made to best serve the needs of the people who will use it? Here, sketches prepared by students and refined by adults are used to guide city planners.”

Chairs for Lovers, Barrie Howells, provided by the National Film Board of Canada

City Limits (1971)

“This short documentary features acclaimed author and activist Jane Jacobs’ forthright, critical analysis of the problems and virtues of North American cities. Jacobs orients her fascinating observations around Toronto, to which she moved after leaving New York City because Toronto “is a city that still has options … it hasn’t made so many mistakes that it’s bound to go downhill.” Her remarks, made in 1971, are prescient yet earnest and will interest all urban stakeholders. This colourful city film, accompanied by an upbeat, jazzy soundtrack, is a must-see for all civic and community groups—indeed, for all urban dwellers worldwide.”

City Limits, Laurence Hyde, provided by the National Film Board of Canada

Home Feeling: Struggle for a Community (1983)

“This feature documentary takes us to the heart of the Jane-Finch “Corridor” in the early 1980s. Covering six square blocks in Toronto’s North York, the area readily evokes images of vandalism, high-density subsidized housing, racial tension, despair and crime. By focusing on the lives of several of the residents, many of them black or members of other visible minorities, the film provides a powerful view of a community that, contrary to its popular image, is working towards a more positive future.”

Home Feeling: Struggle for a Community, Jennifer Hodge & Roger McTair, provided by the National Film Board of Canada

Kanehsatake: 270 Years of Resistance (1993)

“In July 1990, a dispute over a proposed golf course to be built on Kanien’kéhaka (Mohawk) lands in Oka, Quebec, set the stage for a historic confrontation that would grab international headlines and sear itself into the Canadian consciousness. Director Alanis Obomsawin—at times with a small crew, at times alone—spent 78 days behind Kanien’kéhaka lines filming the armed standoff between protestors, the Quebec police and the Canadian army. Released in 1993, this landmark documentary has been seen around the world, winning over a dozen international awards and making history at the Toronto International Film Festival, where it became the first documentary ever to win the Best Canadian Feature award. Jesse Wente, Director of Canada’s Indigenous Screen Office, has called it a “watershed film in the history of First Peoples cinema.”

Kanehsatake: 270 Years of Resistance, Alanis Obomsawin, provided by the National Film Board of Canada

*Descriptions retrieved from NFB website

Featured image credit: Adam Hasan

Adam is a Senior undergraduate student studying Geography and City & Regional Planning. His research interests include understanding the actors involved in defining and redefining Global South urbanisms through social movements, governance systems, and media, as well as the history of spatial planning in post-colonial regions.