The Restoration Marathon of "Napoleon": Reshaping the Lost Arms of Venus

During the third edition of the "World Memory" restoration film festival held by the French Film Archive (La Cinémathèque française) in early 2015, the organizers officially signed a contract with American Zoetrope, led by Francis Ford Coppola to initiate the latest and perhaps the ultimate restoration of "Napoléon" (1927). Thus began a new phase in the six-year-long preparation, with the restoration expected to be completed in 2017, marking the film's ninetieth-anniversary premiere and becoming a significant event in the film industry.

1. The Unfathomable Film Waterloo

Before the restoration work began, what more needed to be said? There is much to discuss. Undoubtedly, this latest and final restoration will be a thrilling adventure. However, before delving into this, let's explore the legendary journey that began with the creation of this undeniable cinematic masterpiece. From the nearly five years of preparation and shooting to the emergence of 22 different versions in the seventy years after its premiere, and now the record-breaking fifth restoration process, this renowned film, with its mysterious and untouchable aura, had many enigmas that were only unraveled in recent years. French film historians even referred to the film and its aftermath as the "giant baobab tree in the French classical garden."

Due to space constraints, this article will focus on the post-creation journey of the film, avoiding the intricate and astonishing filming work— a topic for another day. This journey not only illustrates the labyrinthine complexity of film creation but also showcases the contributions of generations of film restoration workers and enthusiasts driven by a passionate and sometimes obsessive love for the art of cinema. It is essential to note that the content presented here is clarified by Georges Mourier, the overall head of the restoration work, after years of research. He also provided most of the images accompanying the article, and we extend our gratitude to him.

Why discuss Waterloo before the start of "Napoléon"? This stems from the peculiar relationship between the historical figure "Napoléon" and the history of cinema. Since the inception of cinematic art, numerous directors aspired to bring this legendary figure from French history to the silver screen, utilizing the unparalleled expressive capabilities of this new art form to recreate the grandeur of his era. Strangely, the more ambitious the plans, the more likely they would be abandoned, or even vanish without a trace. One classic example is Stanley Kubrick's "Napoléon Project," a plan he harbored for over a decade and lamented about until the end of his life. While numerous films about Napoléon exist, only a handful can be considered convincing biopics, and Abel Gance's work is often regarded as the most outstanding.

In the late 1910s and early 1920s, Gance demonstrated his exceptional filmmaking talent through two films, "J'accuse!" (1919) and "La roue" (1923), establishing himself as one of France's most successful film directors. This success granted him the opportunity to shoot films according to his vision, leading to his ambitious "Napoléon Project." Originally envisioned as a six-part film series covering the sweeping life of the "Emperor of the French," Gance, not only a cinematic explorer but also a technical innovator, experimented with the revolutionary "triptych" projection (simultaneous screening on three screens) nearly thirty years before Cinerama. However, reality did not align with his vision. The originally planned six-part "Napoléon Project" was eventually reduced to a single part, and even this sole part proved to be Gance's Waterloo. Despite several small public screenings that received critical acclaim, the official release faced various challenges and failures, including a somewhat ironic twist: just six months after the Paris premiere of "Napoléon," the birth of the first "talkie," "The Jazz Singer" (1927), ushered in a new era.

On the other hand, like many innovative directors, Gance was eager to continually challenge the limits of cinema and the endurance of producers, sparing no expense to achieve satisfactory results. This approach, already applied to a super-production, led "Napoléon" on a downward slope. The director, once the most renowned in France before World War II, an artist who influenced the likes of Jean Renoir, Sergei M. Eisenstein, and even Akira Kurosawa to varying degrees, gradually faded into obscurity and was eventually forgotten. Roman Polanski recalled being startled when he encountered Gance at the Cannes Film Festival in 1957, thinking the legendary French filmmaker had passed away. Meanwhile, "Napoléon" seemed to become a cursed film, continually encountering mysterious "scissors."

2. The "Scissor Hands" of Abel Gance

On April 7, 1927, the incomplete "Napoléon" premiered at the Opéra de Paris, lasting approximately four hours (the Opera House version). It was met with tremendous success, becoming a hot topic on the streets of Paris and screening ten times in quick succession. Subsequently, from May 8 to 11, a 9-hour and 30-minute version (the Apollo version) was shown at the Apollon Cinema. It's worth noting that during these days, the versions screened did not include the "triptych" and were not open to the public, reserved only for distributors and the media—a prelude to the official version. If the previous screening's acclaim was partly due to the impact of the "triptych," critics who saw the Opera House version were struck by the artistic quality displayed in the Apollo version. They unanimously declared the 9-hour and 30-minute version as the pinnacle of cinematic art, far surpassing the half-length Opera House version. The only regret was the absence of the "triptych" spectacle. During this period, Gance announced plans to edit a final version of approximately 6 hours and 30 minutes, starting in November of the same year. However, this version never saw the light of day.

Gance's editing work has yet actually commenced, and foreign distributors clandestinely edited versions for ordinary screenings, with durations varying around 2 hours. The destruction was evident because this colossal film was shot using 400,000 meters of film and involved 20 editors. However, most of these foreign releases could have been more successful. On the other hand, the "triptych" required partial modifications to the cinema and posed extremely complex tuning and synchronization challenges. Most cinemas were not equipped for such projections, and abandoning the "triptych" seemed to forfeit a significant portion of commercial potential.

Consequently, Gance hastily edited a version shorter than the Opera House version, screening it in a few selected cinemas in Paris, including the "triptych." At the same time, other theaters showed a regular shortened version. Disappointed viewers, who had been eagerly anticipating the film, needed to be more receptive, leading to a dismal box office performance. Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, American theaters were being swept by the advent of talkies. As most cinemas updated for sound films, there was little interest in the "triptych." The redevelopment plan for "Napoléon" in the United States was shelved.

Thus, "Napoléon" paradoxically became a cinematic masterpiece in the memories of some, while in the minds of others, it was just another film. Gance's originally planned six-part "Napoléon Project" faltered from the very first part. As the talkie tide approached, silent films retreated into darkness. While resistance to sound films varied across countries and directors, the unalterable fact was that one had to either keep up with the times or be "eliminated" by the era. Or, like "Napoléon," be forgotten. However, debts owed were not forgotten. During the transition from silent to sound cinema, to save silent films from inevitable financial ruin, one commonly attempted solution was to dub music and sound effects before releasing them to the market.

The commercial failure of "Napoléon" also prompted Gance to consider a similar solution. Investors were pleased with the idea, believing that, given the extensive material shot by Gance, creating a version suitable for the current market was not impossible. Thus 1935, a film titled "Napoléon Bonaparte" was born. People generally believed it was entirely a re-edit of the 1927 "Napoléon." However, this was far from the truth. Gance actually used this opportunity to shoot a new film, making it almost an entirely unrelated work. Why almost? Because he utilized footage from the 1927 film for all flashback scenes, which he had not yet edited for the original "Napoléon." What did this type of editing imply? It meant that Gance had completely abandoned the idea of ever completing the original version of "Napoléon" since any director wanting to survive had to "look forward." The past films had become a thing of the past, and he did not consider the consequences of his indiscriminate and unrecorded editing for "Napoléon." Indeed, to some extent, the person who first "destroyed" "Napoléon" was Gance himself.

Gance's meddling with "Napoléon" was far from over. In 1971, with the help/production of his admirer, director Claude Lelouch, Gance shot his last film, "Bonaparte et la révolution." In this film, Gance "used his skills again," adding new shots and incorporating footage from the 1927 and 1935 Napoléon films. Like last time, these excerpts were taken as needed, without discrimination. Gance's contribution to the "Napoléon labyrinth" stopped here. We cannot blame Gance because we cannot feel the difficulties he faced. When a director cannot make a film for over a decade (1943–1954) and is burdened with debts, he cannot afford to consider the so-called complete version of an old work left behind in his past.

3. A Relay Race of Restoration

If "Napoleon" seems to have been forgotten by history, it has always lived in some people's memories. Perhaps this is the marvel of the film—it imprints vivid images in people's minds. Among these, the fraction of a percent who can be called "fans" are always ready to join an adventure called "recreation." "Napoleon" benefits from this "living memory," as evidenced by its five restorations over fifty years. This fact proves that the film is not only the director's art but also the fans' art. The survival of this "memory" often owes much to these great fans.

In 1949, when life was challenging for Gance, who was facing imminent debt, he had 40 reels of the original "Napoleon" film that could be sold due to his inability to repay. Gance informed Henri Langlois, the founder of the French Film Archive, about this and expressed hope for a debt conversion. Langlois, devoted to saving films and preserving the beautiful memories of "Napoleon," embarked on a six-month effort to save these reels. He succeeded and immediately began the film reconstruction with Marie Epstein, the sister of the director Jean Epstein. However, to their disappointment, they found that there was neither a complete theater version nor a complete Apollo version among these reels. In a letter to Gance, Langlois complained, "It may be impossible to organize a film as complete as it was in the past with all the materials." Despite this, Langlois and the French Film Archive reprinted and preserved all the materials over the next decade. In 1953, they screened a preliminary edited version at the Venice Film Festival and continued to add to previous versions in the following years, hoping to achieve the most complete "Napoleon." Langlois probably did not know that his principle of "preserving everything" like a prophet made the complete restoration of "Napoleon" possible today.

In 1969, Kevin Brownlow, a director and film researcher from across the English Channel, began his restoration project for "Napoleon." His determination stemmed from his awe-inspiring experience as a youth and admiration for Gance, promising to be a lifelong companion to this film until he restored a complete version. In 1973, he reconstructed a relatively complete 4-hour and 50-minute version of "Napoleon" with the materials he could collect. Notably, the French Film Archive did not participate in this version, meaning they did not open their collection for restoration. However, this restoration went unnoticed because, at that time, the idea of film restoration had not yet deeply penetrated the public consciousness, and there was little interest in this somewhat forgotten film. The first screening took place in 1979 at the Telluride Film Festival, inadvertently opening the legendary story of "Napoleon" in the Americas. In 1983, after more than a decade of continuous research and exploration, Kevin Brownlow believed the time for a new restoration had come. This time, the archive opened its doors to him. He claimed that when he saw the materials preserved by the archive, he was shocked, thinking he had seen a new film. He compared these newly discovered materials with his previous version and edited a completely new 5-hour and 15-minute version.

If "Napoleon" is considered a grand masterpiece, its scattered and disintegrating state doomed the restoration process to be a long and tumultuous journey. In 1992, under the leadership of the French Film Archive, Bambi Ballard conducted another new restoration using recently collected materials, resulting in a version of approximately 5 hours and 30 minutes. Kevin Brownlow performed his third restoration on this version in 2000. Thus, "Napoleon" underwent five restorations, all film restorations before the digital era. Although the durations varied, each restoration was primarily a new edit led by the restorer's understanding of the film. In other words, they tried to restore the original, but personal interpretations inevitably played a role. Despite the success of the small-scale screenings after these five restorations, there was no public re-release, and the film could only be shown at different film festivals or extremely rare special occasions.

4. Research Work Returning the Restoration to its Original Form

After 2000, research on "Napoleon" and Gance did not cease, and a new restoration seemed imminent. Initially, this restoration did not seem too challenging because, as restorers usually think, "it can be based on the last restoration." However, a crucial issue arose while carefully examining previous versions: the materials' sources could not be determined. They were pieced together from fragments scattered everywhere. If this continued, the restoration of "Napoleon" would be endless, meaning the idea of restoring the film to its original state would never be realized. More importantly, how could they ensure that the so-called new version was genuinely "new" and better than the previous versions if they continued this way? Therefore, the most urgent task was to find a possible standard.

This is why, in 2008, the French Film Archive decided to halt all restoration work and external loan exchange programs related to "Napoleon" and start over with identification and research. They first requested various institutions across France to search and integrate "Napoleon" resources. Through the International Federation of Film Archives, they sent requests to film archives worldwide. Through these efforts, they rediscovered 400 reels of film that had never been used in previous restorations. Eventually, they faced the "monster Napoleon," consisting of over 1,000 reels and a total length of nearly 100,000 meters of film. How to deal with it? Georges Mourier and his assistants chose the most primitive method: opening each box of film reels and registering each frame one by one. Simultaneously, they used the latest technology not available in previous restorations—simply digitizing all discovered materials. They compared these digitized materials with the registered database, playing all digitized materials related to the same frame simultaneously for comparison.

This work, originally intended to collect all materials, provided them with the first key to interpreting "Napoleon": the difference between the theater version and the Apollo version was not just in duration. They were actually edited from different materials and shot simultaneously with two cameras! Using two cameras to shoot simultaneously was a common method then, with one for printing and distribution in the domestic market and the other for the foreign market. Based on this purpose, the content captured by the two machines should have been roughly the same. However, Gance experimented with these two cameras differently, and from these different source materials, he edited the theater version and the Apollo version separately (evidenced by Gance's handwritten markings on the newly discovered reels). So, although it cannot be said that these are two different films, they are indeed two versions of "Napoleon" with different artistic choices! This discovery not only overturned all previous restorations since they indiscriminately used materials from both versions (of course, the previous restorers cannot be blamed because they were completely unaware of this fact, and Gance himself first used these materials without distinction in subsequent films about Napoleon), but it also validated the impressions feedbacked from the time of release: the Apollo version was superior to the theater version. Therefore, the primary task of the restoration was to reconstruct this superior Apollo version, fulfilling Gance's original wish. However, due to the interweaving of these two versions over several decades, they had become like two completely entangled threads, requiring patience and meticulous care to unravel.

All previous restorers indiscriminately mixed the two versions. In essence, they first acted as editors to reassemble the film from their perspective and then completed the restoration. This latest restoration is determined to restore the superior Apollo version. This is a controversial choice because this version has never truly appeared in Gance's hands. Moreover, the greater difficulty lies in how later generations can better restore Gance's original intent through editing work. Restorers can only search for traces in the file data. In fact, the archive's film database staff began organizing the extensive Gance files in 2002, a task that was not completed until 2010. Their diligent efforts paid off, and another key to unlocking "Napoleon" was found in the files. The staff discovered a shot-by-shot list that Langlois and Marie Epstein had compiled during the restoration in the 1950s. Most of these 40 film reels are proven to belong to the Apollo version. This meticulously organized shot list was reviewed and annotated by Gance himself, meaning Gance detailed his unfulfilled intentions on these eight pages of paper, leaving behind the last clue for future generations.

At this point, all the problems facing the final restoration version have been answered, and the restoration team has decided to unravel and restore the Apollo version painstakingly. However, they will also retain the "Triptych" written into history in the theater version to respect the original author's creative intent and preserve a memory of history.

5. The Cinematic Affinity of the Coppola Father and Son with "Napoleon"

Returning to the beginning of this article, why will the final restored version of "Napoleon" be jointly launched by the French Film Archive and Coppola? This concerns a historical connection between "Napoleon" and the United States. Coppola, who originally decided to enter the theater but was shocked by Eisenstein's "October" (1928) and turned to filmmaking, happened to see Kevin Brownlow's restored "Napoleon" in the United States in the early 1980s. This film amazed him, bringing back his feelings when he first saw "October." Remembering his father's fond memories of the live orchestras accompanying films in American theaters in the 1920s, Coppola conceived the idea of touring "Napoleon" with a live orchestra accompaniment. He entrusted the task of composing the music to his father, Carmine Coppola, a lifelong flute player who had always dreamed of conducting an orchestra.

Unbeknownst to them, the orchestral version of "Napoleon," fulfilling the dreams of father and son, was a tremendous success. Numerous additional performances and tours took place, spanning the United States and reaching London, Rome, and Cuba. Coppola also took this opportunity to buy the worldwide rights to "Napoleon" from the film's copyright holder, Claude Lelouch, excluding France, while Claude Lelouch, believing that "Napoleon" belonged to French cultural heritage, donated the remaining French rights to the Film Archive.

The joint restoration of "Napoleon" by the Film Archive and Coppola has begun and is expected to be completed in 2017. The film will premiere in Paris and the United States and simultaneously in Napoleon's hometown—Corsica. Like thirty years ago, Venus, with a missing arm, will open its arms to welcome people worldwide. It will tour the world, even reaching China.

Georges Mourier told the author that when Gance visited China in the early 1960s, he was honored and even called the “De Gaulle of the French film industry.”