Released in 1904, cinematic magician Georges Méliès' 'Le Voyage à travers l'impossible / The Impossible Voyage' often stands in the shadow of the filmmaker's earlier success 'Le Voyage dans la lune / A Trip to the Moon (1902),' which has long-since earned itself the label of a cinematic classic. In many ways, however, 'Le Voyage à travers l'impossible' is a superior film, brimming with stunning set and model-work, creative visual effects, an exciting around-the-world journey and no shortage of imagination!
At 24 minutes in length (which was almost unheard of at the time), 'Le Voyage à travers l'impossible' was no doubt heavily inspired by its more famous predecessor, as well as Jules Verne and Adolphe d'Ennery's play of the same name. The version of the film most commonly viewed nowadays (featured on the "Landmarks of Early Film Volume 2" DVD) features a hand-coloured print, supplemented with narration penned by Méliès himself.
Like most of Méliès' films, the narrative is played out like a stage play, with the story usually divided into various distinct one-take scenes, the camera settled at a distance from the action. The first few minutes of the film are concerned with organising this "impossible voyage," which will entail the use of every known means of locomotion including trains, automobiles, dirigible balloons, submarines and boats. An engineer (played, I believe, by the director himself) explains his extraordinary plans to the members of a geographic society, who meet his proposal with wholehearted enthusiasm. The voyage itself is an unparalleled triumph of early visual effects. The members of the expedition are first whisked away in a fast-moving train, which is particularly significant in that, at the time, the train was seen as an invention that could take you anywhere. 'Le Voyage à travers l'impossible' takes this idea to the literal extreme, symbolic of the ever-expanding possibilities of the era.
That iconic image of the scientists' rocket piercing the eye of the Man on the Moon has permanently become engrained in the minds of film-goers. In this film, we meet the Sun, who unexpectedly comes face-to-face with a flying locomotive. The gradual emergence of the Sun from behind the shifting clouds is a genuinely beautiful sight, and the face which comprises it is infinitely more pleasant than the nasty, ugly brute from a later Méliès film, 'L' Éclipse du soleil en pleine lune / The Eclipse: Courtship of the Sun and Moon (1907).' Letting out a wide yawn to welcome in the new day, the Sun is understandably startled when the expedition's soaring train enters its outstretched mouth, and he proceeds to cough trails of flame.
On the surface of the Sun, the engineer and his band of fellow travellers set out to explore this strange new landscape, before the rising of the Sun precipitates a drastic rise in temperature (sounds unusual, but you'll have to suspend belief with this dubious logic). As all the explorers clamber into a specially-made icebox to cool down, all but the engineer are frozen into a block of solid ice. Rescued from a frosty fate by the leader of the expedition (who shrewdly decides to light a fire), the team tumbles into their only remaining means of travel a submarine and launch themselves off the face of the Sun and into the depths of the ocean.
Some viewers may find it difficult to accept this film's questionable take on science and logic, but this all adds to the charm of it. Méliès a master of magician's tricks, puffs of smoke and impossible disappearances was never concerned with reality, but with transporting his audiences into a world quite unlike their own. In an era where so many directors were neither daring nor imaginative enough to make the impossible happen on screen, 'Le Voyage à travers l'impossible' is the pinnacle of early film-making.
At 24 minutes in length (which was almost unheard of at the time), 'Le Voyage à travers l'impossible' was no doubt heavily inspired by its more famous predecessor, as well as Jules Verne and Adolphe d'Ennery's play of the same name. The version of the film most commonly viewed nowadays (featured on the "Landmarks of Early Film Volume 2" DVD) features a hand-coloured print, supplemented with narration penned by Méliès himself.
Like most of Méliès' films, the narrative is played out like a stage play, with the story usually divided into various distinct one-take scenes, the camera settled at a distance from the action. The first few minutes of the film are concerned with organising this "impossible voyage," which will entail the use of every known means of locomotion including trains, automobiles, dirigible balloons, submarines and boats. An engineer (played, I believe, by the director himself) explains his extraordinary plans to the members of a geographic society, who meet his proposal with wholehearted enthusiasm. The voyage itself is an unparalleled triumph of early visual effects. The members of the expedition are first whisked away in a fast-moving train, which is particularly significant in that, at the time, the train was seen as an invention that could take you anywhere. 'Le Voyage à travers l'impossible' takes this idea to the literal extreme, symbolic of the ever-expanding possibilities of the era.
That iconic image of the scientists' rocket piercing the eye of the Man on the Moon has permanently become engrained in the minds of film-goers. In this film, we meet the Sun, who unexpectedly comes face-to-face with a flying locomotive. The gradual emergence of the Sun from behind the shifting clouds is a genuinely beautiful sight, and the face which comprises it is infinitely more pleasant than the nasty, ugly brute from a later Méliès film, 'L' Éclipse du soleil en pleine lune / The Eclipse: Courtship of the Sun and Moon (1907).' Letting out a wide yawn to welcome in the new day, the Sun is understandably startled when the expedition's soaring train enters its outstretched mouth, and he proceeds to cough trails of flame.
On the surface of the Sun, the engineer and his band of fellow travellers set out to explore this strange new landscape, before the rising of the Sun precipitates a drastic rise in temperature (sounds unusual, but you'll have to suspend belief with this dubious logic). As all the explorers clamber into a specially-made icebox to cool down, all but the engineer are frozen into a block of solid ice. Rescued from a frosty fate by the leader of the expedition (who shrewdly decides to light a fire), the team tumbles into their only remaining means of travel a submarine and launch themselves off the face of the Sun and into the depths of the ocean.
Some viewers may find it difficult to accept this film's questionable take on science and logic, but this all adds to the charm of it. Méliès a master of magician's tricks, puffs of smoke and impossible disappearances was never concerned with reality, but with transporting his audiences into a world quite unlike their own. In an era where so many directors were neither daring nor imaginative enough to make the impossible happen on screen, 'Le Voyage à travers l'impossible' is the pinnacle of early film-making.