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Linguists, educational psychologists, and child
development specialists salivate whenever a feral
child is discovered. What a goldmine for research--without
the normal "corruption" of parental and societal
influences, a rare individual growing up in such
a pure natural environment provides fertile ground
for a myriad of theories about cognitive development.
The most prominent case study involves Victor of
Aveyron, discovered in the woods near Tolouse near
the turn of the 19th century, coincidently near
the end of the Enlightenment when many debated about
what distinguished man from animal.
When Lucien Malson cited Victor's case in his 1964
book, Les Enfants sauvages: Mythe et réalité
(Wild Children: Myth and Reality),
François Truffaut
immediately bought ten copies (a customary routine
when a book interested him for a film project) and
assigned writer Jean Gruault to construct a screenplay,
which eventually turned into L'Enfant Sauvage
(The Wild Child). First came copious
research, followed by Truffaut's
meticulous annotations on his original 243 page
script, a re-write of 400 pages that would run at
least 3 hours on screen, and extreme editing to
get down to a manageable 83 minute running time.
Having grown up in a dysfunctional home, Truffaut
had long supported child welfare, and it's notable
that he dedicates The Wild Child to
Jean-Pierre Léaud, leading actor (and alter ego)
of his Antoine Doinel films. He saw this project
as a means to address concerns he had about political
and societal indifference to child neglect and abuse:
"There can be no doubt that the number of abused and merely unhappy children will increase considerably in the years to come. Naturally the same is true for juvenile delinquents. Anyone can point to the reasons for this: too many unwanted children, housing crises, overcrowded schools, teacher shortages, derisory social assistance . . ."
-- Truffaut,
1965 interview in Heures Claires
This project
marks the beginning of Truffaut's
collaboration with cinematographer Nestor Almendros,
whose simple black and white work with Eric Rohmer's
My Night at Maude's had
caught Truffaut's
attention. They would go on to make a total of nine
films together.
Striving for a classical look, Truffaut
sets his film on location in Auvergne's forests with
minimalist dialogue, a largely objective camera often
at mid and long range, and a recurring "closing iris"
technique reminiscent of the silent film era (this
last technique seems overstated). Indeed, so much
of the film is communicated through the visuals that
it hardly needs subtitles. Always meticulously prepared,
Truffaut screened
many silent films for inspiration, no doubt gleaning
insights about how to stage the screenplay as visually
as possible. Adding a poignant tone are frequent Vivaldi
excerpts that often feature a solo recorder when young
Victor (Jean-Pierre Cargol) is framed in isolation--so
appropriate since the boy really does inhabit a private
world.
The plot is very simple. An opening shot shows a woman
gathering herbs and plants in the forest when she
is startled by a mysterious rustling of leaves. Thinking
that she's come across a dangerous wild animal, she
gets three men and their dogs to track down the creature,
and soon the chase is on--men with rifles and bloodhounds
chasing a lithe naked boy. An estimated 12 years old,
the boy doesn't speak and has a number of scars, most
notably one around his neck. One professor thinks
that there's something wrong with the boy and that
his parents tried to kill him--that he's an idiot
or mental case that belongs in an institution; however,
Dr. Jean Itard (Truffaut)
takes an opposing stance. He theorizes that the boy
has been isolated on his own in the woods since the
age of three, and that he can be educated.
Itard volunteers to take the boy in with the aide
of his housekeeper Madame Guerin (Françoise
Seigner) and proposes to study his progress. Naturally
there are ups and downs to any child rearing stories,
especially in such an unusual scenario. Itard questions
his mission, wondering why he has brought so much
sorrow to the boy since he seems so at home in the
woods. Just what is the benefit of learning a few
words and performing tasks that any highly trained
animal could do? His answer comes in a memorable scene,
and true to form Truffaut
ends his narrative ambiguously after showing glimpses
of hopefulness and despair.
The film works largely because of the authenticity
of the feral boy. Truffaut
interviewed and photographed nearly 2,500 children
before selecting five finalists for screen tests.
Dark skinned gypsy Cargol was finally cast for his
nimble body and "animal like profile," and he certainly
recreates the famous real life Victor of Aveyron,
at least in the early forest scenes. Cargo seems to
adjust to civilized life a bit too readily, but that
is largely due to the economy of the script. His tantrums
also seem a bit too close a copy to Patty Duke's Oscar
winning performance, so Cargo may have seen too many
scenes from The Miracle Worker to develop
his own style, but he captures the right tone.
As does Truffaut
in his first major acting performance. Dr. Itard was
the last role to be cast, and the director considered
a number of television actors and a journalist that
he thought could tie in the educational aspects between
Itard and the wild child, and then began talking about
hiring an unknown. In reality, Truffaut
saw himself in the part, feeling that he'd be comfortable
"directing" a child who doesn't speak. And as usual,
he is right for the part. The Wild Child
may not satisfy the Blockbuster crowd, but this often
overlooked film will stimulate educators and anyone
interested in the learning process. It's a difficult
film to forget, and that's a huge plus.
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