Philanthropy on film usually turns gooey, but Monsieur Vincent avoids that trap. This isn’t the cosy life of a saint, but a rough sketch of Vincent de Paul trudging through plague, poverty, and general indifference. The streets are grim, the institutions rotten, and faith here looks more like stubborn grit than glowing piety.
Pierre Fresnay is terrific. He doesn’t play Vincent as an icon on a pedestal but as a man worn down by endless need, his compassion mixed with frustration and fatigue. He sighs, snaps, despairs — and that’s what makes him believable. Maurice Cloche’s black-and-white direction keeps it all severe and unsentimental, refusing to polish the misery.
The best moment comes when Vincent shares a Paris tenement room with a consumptive neighbour, listening to poverty pressing in from the night. It’s powerful, proper cinema. The problem is, too often it stops feeling like a film and turns into a string of vignettes, characters drifting in and out with little coherence.
Still, Fresnay holds it together. His Vincent is a man who keeps going long after hope should have run out. The film is uneven, but when it works, it really stays with you.