Though nowhere near as ambitious an undertaking as his 1967 Playtime, this Monsieur Hulot outing is till a delightful example of the gentle satire of silent clown Jacques Tati. Here Hulot (Tati, also the director) checks into a seaside hotel, where he proceeds to cause unintentional havoc among the guests, all without saying a word. Everything Hulot does is elaborately and unnecessarily complicated – even his overly polite greetings – which means every moment is ripe for comedy. The resulting, delicate sight gags – two umbrellas hooking their handles, a maze of muddy footprints – produce light chuckles rather than guffaws. If you don’t watch closely, some of them easily will be missed. It all adds up to a potent spoof of the harried nature of vacationing. Of everyone we meet – the older couple on a constant stroll, with him always trailing a few purposeful steps behind her; the blonde woman who’s as distracting as Hulot, but for different reasons – Hulot is the only one who really manages to enjoy some leisure time. The reason, of course, is that he is Hulot, not someone unfortunate enough to be vacationing with him.
