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The 400 Blows (Francois Truffaut - 1959)
One of the very best films from around the world in 1959, and 1959 was a very good year for films what with the likes of Sayajit Ray's The World of Apu, and Bresson's Pickpocket being released also. It's all the more remarkable when you realise this was Francois Truffaut's debut feature. It's an autobiographical tale and a fore runner of the vibrant New Wave of French cinema that was emerging and set to dominate French cinema through the sixties. Jean-Pierre Leaud stars as the young teenager Antoine Doinel - a restless child growing up with somewhat uncaring parents, and stuck in a society that has no time for children and in a school system that isn't interested in any sort of individuality of thought or action. It would seem that Antoine is destined for a life of crime. Much of the film is concerned with his juvenile delinquency, however Truffaut is careful to point out that most of the bad that Antoine ends up doing is either thrust upon him through misfortune or is a reaction against being treated unfairly in the first place. You won't find a film that rings more true about what it means to be young than The 400 Blows. The urgency and realism which is invested in this film is an indication of the passion with which it was made, and it's this passion that's sadly missing in most films these days. The much talked about final scene of Antoine running from the detention centre until he reaches the sea and can run no more is worth the price of admission alone. |
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Army of Shadows (Jean-Pierre Melville - 1969)
As far as I'm concerned Jean-Pierre Melville never made a bad film. A higher than normal percentage of his films would count as masterpieces by any definition of the term and this is one of his very best. It's set during world war two and is based on Joseph Kessel's novel, coupled with the director's own first-hand experiences as a member of the French resistance. It's an unsentimental view of war as a testing ground of moral fibre and character and it illustrates how war cannot fail to change those involved for better or worse. Those that can adapt and do whatever a given situation calls for will survive and those who cannot or will not are apt to perish. It's an unsparing glimpse into the realities of what happens when men are pitted against each other. Lino Ventura exhibits a detached resolve in the role of Philippe Gerbier - a man of few words who will do whatever it takes in order to ensure the freedom of his country, and his own survival. The film has a solemn and humourless tone, as you might expect, and this is also reflected in the muted colour palette used - much of the film is set in darkness, with steely blues, earthy browns and dark shadows ever present. It's more about tone and mood than narrative, more a series of events than a linear story. We follow Gerbier through many tough situations filled with difficult choices and sacrifices and it's his unwavering adherence to an unwritten warrior's code of conduct that sees him through most of his travails where others fail to act and are doomed. Both lean and expressive filmmaking par excellence and grimly entertaining, this will leave you drained and exhilerated. |
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La Belle et la Bête (Jean Cocteau - 1946)
There have been many adaptations of this classic tale of love triumphing over appearance. It's been Disneyfied and tinkered with over the years but this is the pure, undiluted definitive film version and to my mind it's the best of the lot by quite a margin. Based on a traditional fairy tale dating back to 1757 by Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont, it stars Josette Day as Beauty and Jean Marais as the Beast. Both are wonderful, especially Marais who really makes this part his own under a ton of special effects makeup. Jean Cocteau creates a fabulously dreamy atmosphere and the whole production abounds with fantastical and surreal images throughout, from the cottage Beauty and her evil sisters live at the beginning of the film, based around the paintings of Vermeer to the palacial lushness of the castle we spend the rest of the film in. Once inside the castle walls we're faced with a visual feast of winding staircases replete with candelabra made of human arms and baroque furnishings and surroundings such as to suggest the engravings of Gustave Doré. It seems we've entered a dream. It's the most fully realised fairy tale atmosphere you're ever likely to find committed to celluloid and is why this film has such a special place in cinephiles' hearts. There's also something timeless about a simple tale told very well that means films like La belle et la bete will still be around long after all your avante garde and experimental films have bitten the dust. |
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Blue Is The Warmest Colour (Abdellatif Kechiche - 2013)
Adapted from a comicbook Le Bleu Est Une Couleur Chaude by Julie Maroh this is one of the most engrossing and stark depictions of young love ever committed to film. We share the emotional turmoil experienced by fifteen year old Adèle, who meets and falls in love at first sight with Emma, a university student a few years her senior. We follow Adele closely on her journey of self-discovery, and sexual re-awakening, after her lacklustre experiences with boys, and are soon willing her to be happy and fulfilled in this new chapter of her life. The power of this film lies in its ability to capture the intense emotions of young love as seen through the eyes of this personable and relatively innocent young girl. Abdel Kechiche keeps the focus of the film firmly on the young Adèle for almost the full three hour running time and he uses a tremendous amount of close-ups of her, and her body almost constantly - in fact it's so body-centric that it can actually get a little claustrophobic and uncomfortable, but at the same time I doubt this would be nearly as intense and gripping were it filmed in a more subtle or delicate fashion. By using so many close-ups Kechiche really gives the viewer time to get to know Adèle - the way she talks, her mannerisms, the way she comports herself. We get inside her head; we know what she's thinking, and we become inextricably tied to her emotional state and fully invested in her life, dreams and desires. It's almost a shame when we arrive at the central sex scene - which is quite explicit - because it seems a little too stylised, and none too subtle, but that's kind of the point. Young love is not known for subtlety or restraint. These girls have been drinking each other in from the first time they laid eyes on each other, and we're doing the same by proxy.
The film is sincere and compelling, and taken on the level of an intense depiction of young love with all its passion, mystery, confusion and heartbreak it succeeds in almost every respect. Adèle Exarchopoulos' performance alone is more than worth the price of admission, as she delivers a breathtakingly raw yet delicate performance of astonishing depth and maturity. |
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Grand Illusion (Jean Renoir - 1937)
Along with Rules of The Game this is Renoir's most popular film, but the latter is the one that has garnered more critical accaim. I may never get to the bottom of why that is the case because this is Renoir's best film for my money, and is certainly more accessible than Rules of The Game. Set in a German prisoner of war camp near the end of the first world war it concerns the escape attempts of the French prisoners held there and the efforts of the camp commander to keep a lid on everything. The camp commander, Captain von Rauffenstein, is played by none other than the great director of the silent era Erich von Stroheim, who was a big influence on Renoir early in his career. Here he gives a performance of great compassion and understanding. Renoir was good at bringing strong performances from his actors and all involved here are excellent. As this is at heart an anti-war film you might expect bloody battle scenes and lots of misery and suffering, but Renoir eschews this route and instead focusses on the individual people and the relationships between the captors and their prisoners. In actual fact it's more of a social commentary than anything else, and is much the better for it. Grand Illusion is most interesting in the scenes with von Rauffenstein and one of the captured officers Captain de Boeldieu, with whom he shares many ideals and whose social standing is the same as his own - in fact they even have shared acquaintences away from the war. It's this humanist view of things that separates Grand Illusion from your average prisoner of war drama. It's actually one of the great humanist films of this, or any other era. Oh, and just to sprinkle some icing on an already sumptuous cake, the film also features lovely crisp black and white photography, and Renoir's deceptively complex and fluid camerawork. |
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Last Year At Marienbad (Alain Resnais - 1961)
Well, this is a strange and wonderful film indeed. It's the grandaddy of all 'puzzle films' and is most assuredly unlike anything ever seen before. You may have seen films like this more recently, but that's only because it's been so influential that it's been borrowed from and pastiched many times since it created a splash on its release in 1961. With it's rigid formalism, hypermodernism and strikingly lush and exact cinematography this has been delighting and infuriating audiences in equal measure for years. To be sure this is not a film you can put on while you're doing the ironing if you're to get anything at all from it. No, you're going to have to work to try and tease some sort of sense from this film, and don't be surprised if you fail in the end - you won't be the first or last to do so. The narrative sounds simple enough; a man and woman meet at a grand hotel ballroom and the man is convinced they met at the same place last year, and agreed to see each other again the following year. The woman is adamant they've never met before. Things get ever more complex and confusing as the film progresses. Have the two met? If so why does the woman deny it, and why is the man so insistent? Some events seem to suggest they have, some that they haven't. What's the point of it all? These questions aside there's no denying this is a unique and absolutely gorgeous film to experience, and whether you fall in love with the beautiful aesthetic and oblique storytelling or it annoys the hell out of you it will make you think and you'll not easily forget the experience. |
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A Man Escaped (Robert Bresson - 1955)
Robert Bresson has brought an impressive level of detail and realism to this stark tale of one man's imprisonment and attempted escape from a German prison. Based on the book published the same year by André Devigny, a French Resistance fighter during world war two, the book recounts Devigny's escape attempt from the Gestapo's Fort Montluc prison in occupied Lyon in 1943. Bresson has reduced this piece to its barest elements - the film is about one man's escape from prison, so that is the whole film. We spend almost the full running time with the potential escapee and his routine each day, and we're privvy to his plans in the minutest detail, and then we are with him as his painstaking planning is put into action. We're aware of guards in the prison, but only peripherally, and only from our protagonist's point of view. We occupy his space at all times, giving a claustrophobic feel to the piece and a greater sense of urgency regarding the situation we find ourselves in with him. Coupled with this, Bresson's use of sound is remarkable at building an offscreen picture of what's going on at any given time, and the editing is pared down to give more of a sense of mystery about what's going on that really helps to build suspense. By the time of the actual escape attempt near the end of the film we're so invested in our hero's life that the tension of the final twenty minutes or so is almost too much to bear. This is an absolute masterclass of minimalist filmmaking and efficient storytelling as only Bresson could have pulled off so successfully, and is the most accessible and enjoyable of Bresson's films for those new to his work. |
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Rififi (Jules Dassin - 1955)
For me there's nothing quite so exhilirating in cinema as a great heist movie. The intrigue of how these people are intending to outwit whatever security is in place around the objects of their desire, the planning process of how they're going to go about their theft, and the tricky business of escaping detection and evading capture, even as in some films how they're going to deal with their ill-gotten gains in the future. It's all fascinating and lends itself very well to the medium of film. Rififi is one of the best heist films you're likely to come across and it's a cracking film noir too. It's an adaptation of Auguste le Breton's novel of the same name and stars Jean Servais as an aging gangster fresh out of prison for a previous jewel heist. He's penniless and sees the only way back is to pull off another major jewel heist - it's all he's really good at. He enlists the aid of a few frinds to plan a daring burglary of a jewellery store in town during the hours of darkness. What separates this from most of the other heist films is the famous heist scene itself, which lasts a full thirty minutes, and shows in real time and minute detail the plan being executed flawlessly and in almost complete silence. The tension in this scene is palpable, and after all the meticulous planning and execution it would be a heart-hearted viewer indeed who didn't wish for them to escape with their freedom and the loot. |
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