There are those filmmakers that work in such heavy handed modes that viewers don’t really need to think about what’s going on so much as simply waiting for the next explosion or dick joke. Jacques Tati crafted a long, if not plentiful, career of doing pretty much the opposite. That’s not to figure his few films for conceptually difficult material. The director had a point of view and he expressed it with very little dialogue, but a lot of quick and quirky stunts meant to clue movie goers into his thought process.

It’s not a mystery that Tati and his character M. Hulot weren’t necessarily engaged with the old worlds obsessive shift to modernity. The thing is, though, that idea isn’t ever explicitly stated. Instead, the director and (kinda) star of the Hulot series fumbles his way through a burgeoning world of computer automated nonsense never too displeased with his surroundings, just confused as to why things are the way they are.

For his third feature and second as the Hulot character, Tati choose to open Mon Oncle with a scene detailing dogs running through stone streets and crumbling infrastructure. It lasts only briefly before the camera finds some mischievous youths, but the film’s exposition clearly laments the passing away of times past without completely damning the present.

As the camera follows that gaggle of boys, Hulot comes jaunting down the street oblivious to the goings on around him as ever. Of course, when he spots his nephew amidst the throng of school aged kids, he wanders over and watches them play for a moment. The camera watches the man watch boys. Viewers are only exposed to Hulot from the back. And while the only action he’s charged with is knocking out his pipe, it’s done in amusing fashion with the resultant sound obviously embellished in post production for comedic effect.

By the time Mon Oncle was filmed it wasn’t gauche to be smoking a pipe, but the way Hulot is attired is meant to set him apart from other adults in the film. And with his nephew clasping Hulot’s hand, it’s made obvious without a snatch of dialogue to confirm or deny the idea.

The boy and his uncle, as figured in the title are inextricably linked. And after meeting Hulot’s sister, the boys mother, it’s not difficult to understand why. The color of main character’s dress jives more easily with boy’s as opposed to the austere and formal nature displayed by his parents. But that’s not the only stuff thing about the family.