La Poison (1951): A Venomous Comedy

This post is my contribution the CMBA 2026 Spring Blogathon "Make 'em Laugh." 

Not long ago I was discussing The Banshees of Inisherin in a film group, and I said that although I knew it was not meant to be strict realism, it still felt realistic enough, and bleak enough, that I could not see it as a comedy, as many in the industry had called it. The answer I got back was, “Well, it’s not a tragedy, so it’s a comedy.” That remark left me scratching my head: maybe that's true in classic Greek theater, but is that true in cinema? I mean, isn't comedy, even black comedy, supposed to be approachable enough that it doesn't hit us emotionally in the same way a drama does? In any case, this experience burrowed into my brain such that I decided to explore a new-to-me black comedy, and one that may be less well known to my readers: the 1951 French film La Poison. 

Black comedy (also called dark comedy or black humor) is defined by Merriam-Webster as an approach to humor marked by morbid, ironic, or grotesquely comic episodes. In cinema, black comedy as a genre usually implies that the film as a whole is shaped by that same dark, ironic approach. This definition seems to match my experience of some of the classic, better-known black comedies, such as Dr. Strangelove, Monsieur Verdoux, Eating Raoul, etc., where the actions of the characters, which include morbid or repulsive ones, are portrayed in an over-the-top way that accentuates the absurd...and the absurd is where the comedy lies. (Perhaps that was my problem with Banshees, that despite the arguable absurdities there, I believed that real people could be as eccentric as those characters were, enough that I didn't buy it as absurd, just sad). As I watched La Poison, it was clear that there are both absurdities and dark themes...namely murder and marital abuse. And there was also another extremely uncomfortable theme that I'll get to shortly. 

A bit about the film's origin and production: it was an original screenplay written and directed by Sacha Guitry. The film was made in France in 1951, produced by Jean de Luc, Paul Wagner and Alain Poiré, and released by Gaumont. Guitry, by the time he made La Poison, was already famous in France as a playwright, actor, and filmmaker known for witty, dialogue-driven comedies and historical films, including The Story of a Cheat (1936), The Pearls of the Crown (1937), Désiré (1937), and Quadrille (1938). For his lead character, Guitry chose Michel Simon because he brought what Criterion essayist Ginette Vincendeau calls his “ungainly physique” and “gruff but mesmerizing presence,” making his character both grotesque and oddly persuasive. Before La Poison, Simon was recognized for his parts in Jean Renoir’s La chienne (1931) and Boudu Saved from Drowning (1932), and Jean Vigo’s L’Atalante (1934), although this was his first collaboration with Guitry. Guitry valued Simon so highly that he reportedly allowed him the rare privilege of doing no more than one take per scene. Criterion notes say that likely Guitry developed his black-comic murder plot to channel his own postwar bitterness over having been briefly jailed after unfounded accusations of collaborationism. 

Sacha Guitry (from Rotten Tomatoes)

In addition to Simon, the film stars Germaine Reuver, and Jean Debucourt, with cinematography by Jean Bachelet.

The story centers on Paul Braconnier (Simon), who lives in a a small French village, in a state of miserable hostility with his wife Blandine (Reuver). Paul and Blandine loathe each other thoroughly, and the film takes that as its starting point. In fact, the opening scene has Paul confessing to his local priest that he despises his wife. The good father, naturally, thinks that this is a simple case of a long-term marriage in need of help. But things get worse. Before long, Paul is not merely fantasizing about escape from the marriage, but beginning to think in a more practical way about how he might get rid of Blandine in a permanent way. 

The film does a great job of springing the unexpected on us. I'll discuss a few of those elements, which may be slightly spoiler-y without revealing too much.

The first unexpected event hits us right away in the unusual opening credits. Instead of the usual scrolling names of the actors and crew, director Guitry presents the cast and principal via live introductions, in which he welcomes each person and says something flattering about them. Check out a clip of the opening in the video here. The film is telling us from the outset that it will be stylized, ironic, and more than a little arch.

Michel Simon is, to my mind, the film’s greatest asset. I don't recall seeing him before in the films I listed above, but his oaf-like presence contrasted well with the nastiness and sense of danger he created later in the movie. And that is another surprise...when you first meet him, you get the sense that he is not particularly bright. Yet in a brilliant turn, he completely outwits an intelligent and introverted defense lawyer (Debucourt). That interaction is a centerpiece scene and propels the rest of the action. Debucourt is excellent, by the way. He has exactly the right polished self-satisfaction for the role, yet plays it straight. His scenes also help move the film away from domestic venom alone and into something wider and more social.

Reuver, as Blandine, is very effective too, though she has a somewhat thankless role. Blandine is written with almost no generosity at all. She is shrill, vulgar, combative, and matches her husband in being ceaselessly unpleasant. The two characters go to great lengths to alternatively insult and creatively ignore each other over meals and beyond. The relationship deteriorates to the point where each spouse is plotting to off the other. Over the top for sure. 

A troubled marriage: Blandine passed out at the dinner table,
having drunk too much wine, and Paul beyond disgusted.

Another surprise, which in retrospect I should have seen coming, stemmed from a scene early in the movie when prominent townspeople were brainstorming creative ways to increase local tourism and help line their pocketbooks. In the best satiric outcome, the townspeople get their wish and then some, when an unsavory murder and corresponding trial puts the town on the proverbial map. Need some publicity? Commit a horrific crime!

So La Poison worked for me as a black comedy. It's a film that will reward multiple viewings...if you can stomach it. And that brings me to my big issue with the film...its relentless misogyny. I suppose we are to laugh at a man finding his wife so ugly that he wants to murder her. If only Blandine could have been portrayed as something other than a dim shrew. Ironically (and purposefully?), Paul is just as mean and ugly, a point made early and often, but he's simply brighter and emerges as the town hero. During his trial, when he throws his lawyer off his game and appeals directly to the jury, he makes the point that he can't possibly have premeditated a murder out of jealousy, as there is no way any other man could possibly succeed in the act of adultery (yes, it means what you think it means) with a woman as unattractive as Blandine. I am not saying that a black comedy must be completely fair, or that unpleasant women are somehow out of bounds. Yet even the name of the film, as Ginette Vincendeau reminds us in her Criterion essay, is not gender neutral, identifying the "poison" as female.

This misogyny also made me think, at least a little, of the postwar period more generally. In American film noir, in full flourish during this time, one often sees the male power class anxiety about women’s independence translated into the figure of the femme fatale. La Poison is not true noir, of course, and Blandine is certainly not that kind of character. Still, the hostility felt related. There is something in the film that seems to turn the wife into a symbol of male resentment, and that sits rather uneasily with the comedy.

Even so, I would not want to give the impression that I found the La Poison crude or unentertaining. I did not. It is intelligent, well played, and very sure of its own tone. I admired the confidence of it, and I admired the performances. There is no question that it has bite, and it's worth checking out.

I am glad to have seen it for this blogathon. It helped confirm my understanding of the genre of black comedy, and gave me a better sense of the spectrum the genre covers...some black comedies are almost playful in their darkness (think Arsenic and Old Lace), while others leave a bitter aftertaste. La Poison definitely belongs in the latter group.

Check out all the other great posts in the blogathon here!