Watching a movie by Tati is a surprising experience; in his films, sound and music speak more than do words, overtaking the conventional discourse - and boredom - of adulthood. Hulot remains silent, or mumbles. Tati knows all about the noises of the modern world: beeps, rings, crackles, pneumatic drill, cars, mechanical, electrical and rubbery sounds, the high heels of secretaries and typewriters, factory noises, creaking doors, sighing chairs, machines and technical machines, franglais, vacuum cleaners and the whole range of small appliances... With all of that urban and domestic jumble, plastics of all sorts, linoleum and formica, he composes a virtuoso partition. Signs and signals, warning sounds and sirens mislead us in the urban space. Tati maliciously disorients us. Maximalist, he records on five tracks in skillful, tasteful rhythms - a pleasure for the senses. Hearing Mon Oncle, Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot, Play Time changes one's outlook onto the world - never again will you perceive the noises of towns and villages in the same way. The modern city is Hulot's playground - with it he invents a totally new soundscape. Then there's the organic, the countryside, the barking dogs, the wasp bothering François on his bicycle, all the way to the mailman's fall into the river... Tati masters the art of tempo - there's not one sound, one note, one silence too many in the scenario. Pure sophistication. So try it tonight; put the record on, lie down, close your eyes and listen...