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The Case of Dr. Laurent (Cocinor; Trans-Lux). There is no hedging, no photographic euphemism. In the delivery room the head, the shoulders, the torso and finally the legs of an aborning infant come into view, and seconds later the mother gathers the baby in her arms. In the first completely undisguised commercial filming of a woman giving birth to a child, French Writer-Director Jean-Paul Le Chanois recorded a scene that would seem guaranteed to outrage maiden aunts, set 15-year-olds to snickering aloud, and increase the watch-and-ward membership twelvefold. Instead, the moment is one of wonder. The picture earned an M.P.A. Production Code seal and approval of the American Medical Association and the Roman Catholic Legion of Decency, will be shown throughout the U.S.
Writer Le Chanois has found the best possible formula for quieting objections to his frankly polemic theme: natural childbirth. He creates a picture that is dramatically first-rate even without the birth scene, puts it together with a blend of personal compassion and cinematic skill. In the almost fable-simple tale, Old Pro Jean Gabin plays a weary, health-broken physician who moves to a tiny mountain village in the South of France to live out his years. With him he brings his conviction, gained from years of work in the slums of Paris, that much of the pain and fear of childbirth can be eliminated with proper psychological and physical training. In return, he gets only scorn and a Greek chorus of old wives' tales—for example, if a pregnant woman crosses her legs, she will strangle her child with the umbilical cord. His one believer is an unwed pregnant farm girl, played (except at the birth, when the camera focuses on an anonymous mother) with translucent charm by Nicole Courcel, whose pain-free delivery provides the doctor with his triumph and the film with its spectacular ending. Thus it becomes a warm, witty, wise movie that is capable of making its point even to viewers who reject its message.