Wednesday, May 6, 2009

DVD Review: Le Cercle Rouge



There’s a certain kind of aura to Jean-Pierre Melville’s films; a kind of gravitational pull that sucks you into the story and places you in the most wonderful kind of reverie. True, there isn’t much that “happens” in Melville’s films, but they are always teeming with a confidence, a certain suaveness that is seen through all of Melville’s characters, especially Corey and Vogel from Melville’s 1970 crime masterpiece Le Cercle Rouge. When one watches Melville you know you are in the hands of a master.

Like all of Melville’s films there is a deliberate pace, with minimal post production, that allows the viewer to sit back and fully take in what is happening on the screen. There may be a scene that goes on for five minutes that contains two people looking at each other, but these scenes are never plodding, rather they allow the viewer to fill in the blanks, drawing their own conclusions about the histories Melville’s characters might have shared. When you watch a Melville film you are in the presence of a master hypnotist; it’s a state of reverie you won’t find in any of the other French New Wave filmmakers – who always seemed to want to distract you with a barrage of freeze frames and other New Wave tactics. Rohmer, Resnais, Malle, Goddard, and Truffaut; all of them shrink in comparison to Melville, and Le Cercle Rouge is a perfect film to admit as evidence.



Loneliness is not what you come to expect from crime/caper films; nor are deep existential themes: themes of chance, happenstance, and a general “what if?” feeling. Where’s the fun in that? Jean-Pierre Melville’s Le Cercle Rouge tackles some of these unconventional themes (for a crime film, anyway); however, it’s also an utter joy to watch in addition to being deeply contemplative.

The film begins with a quote from the Buddhist Ramayana that gives the viewer some insight into how the film will play out. The quote mentions that people who perform the same duties will eventually meet within the red circle. Luck, chance, or happenstance is what guides these people into the red circle. The two characters who encounter each other through chance are Vogel (Gian-Maria Volonte), a recently escaped convict, and Corey (Alain Delon), a recently released convict. Corey knows of a heist that “can’t miss” from a police guard in the prison who is actually friends with Corey.

Corey, upon his release, pays a visit to his old mob boss Rico. Corey steals his gun and some money and then tells him he’ll pay him back. He then leaves to play some billiards late at night (an old stomping ground perhaps), and it is here we see what Corey is capable of doing as he quickly dispatches two henchmen sent from Rico. Corey then buys a car, stops to eat at a restaurant, and there is when he and Vogel will meet.

Vogel has just escaped from a train, being guarded by policeman Mattei (André Bourvil). Mattei knows Vogel better than anyone, and like any good Melville film, the opening of the film is played out with little to no exposition; so, it’s on the viewer to try to fill in the blanks and the assumed long standing cat/mouse relationship these two have. In a wonderfully executed (and mostly silent) escape scene, Vogel finds himself at the diner that Corey is at. He hops in the trunk of his car, and when Corey is at the next check point (the police have set up barricades to look for Vogel at this point) Corey claims that the dealership never gave him the key for the trunk, when at an earlier check point, before Vogel jumped in his car, he opened the trunk, no problem. Again, this is one of those brilliant little moments that Melville stages that says so much by saying so little, and the onus, once again is on the viewer to make that connection.

Corey and Vogel finally meet as Corey drives out into the middle of nowhere and tell Vogel he can come out of the trunk and that he’s safe. Corey tosses him some cigarettes as a sign of friendship, and these two professional criminals can tell just by looking at each other that they can trust one another, and that Corey saved Vogel because of the unwritten code that criminals abide by.

That’s essentially your set up for what is a fantastic, and highly influential, crime film. Vogel and Corey recruit Jansen (Yves Montand), an ex-police sharpshooter to join their jewel heist plans. Mattei, searching for Vogel still, now realizes that he may be searching for more people. He is under a lot of pressure from his boss, the police director (who is pure existential style gives a speech about how all men are guilty) so he visits an old informant friend Santi, the owner of the nightclub, to help him act as an informant and bring down Corey and Vogel.

The plot is intricate, but executed in the most simplistic, minimalist way possible – that is not to say that the film isn’t deep; rather, its simplicity allows for those wonderful moments of contemplation I alluded to earlier: where the viewer is drawing their own conclusions and creating their own past histories for these characters. The film contains scene after scene of brilliantly understated coolness. It all leads to one of the most brilliantly executed and taut heist scenes I’ve ever seen in a film – all without the aid of post production or unnecessary expository dialogue during the scene. The heist scene is at least 30 minutes long, but the scene is filmed as if the viewer were doing the job with the criminals. It’s highly effective and never boring; it’s definitely the highlight of the film, and Melville didn’t have to ‘sex’ up the scene to make it more ‘interesting’ or ‘entertaining’ for the viewer – he trusts the scene to be interesting enough to keep the viewer on the edge of their seat. That is what makes Melville’s films so fascinating: he doesn’t have to say much for the viewer to draw some pretty deep conclusions about the film. Plus, compounding on all of that is the very basic element (and ultimate goal of film) that this film is extremely entertaining.

Melville has had somewhat of a resurgence in the last ten years. He’s now getting the recognition as one of the premiere New Waver’s, and his influence is all over the films of directors like Steven Soderbergh (more aesthetically than anything) and especially Jim Jarmusch (Ghost Dog has a lot of Melville in it, think of the deliberate pace of that film, as well as other Jarmusch films that are existential exercises that say very little and allow the view to contemplate the film has it is happening).

His Influence on Soderbergh’s Ocean’s Twelve, specifically, is apparent: everything from the locations, to the way they pull of the heist, to the way Soderbergh dresses up Casey Affleck to look like Corey. Soderbergh has always been indebted to the French New Wave with his copious amounts of zooms (both pulling in and out) and his love jazzy music accompanying his camera on a long pull in, usually focusing on a woman walking down the street (I’m specifically thinking of the introduction to Catherine-Zeta Jones’ character in Ocean’s Twelve; very New Wave). So, it’s great to see these two great filmmakers taking after a somewhat forgotten (until recently) figure of the French New Wave.

I mentioned earlier about the loneliness found in the film: this is not the style of crime film that Scorsese would popularize a few years later with Mean Streets, then in the 90’s with Goodfellas, and culminating in Casino: all films about professional criminals (specifically Italian mobsters/gangsters in Scorsese’s world) that experience varying degrees of success, only to come crashing down by the films climax. So too do Vargas and Corey experience some good times, mostly in regards to their new found friendship – the heist goes off well, too – but how fitting that Melville end his suave, confident crime film about suave, confident criminals with his two main characters shot and dirtied, their downfall is not as operatic or theatrical as Scorsese’s gangsters, but it’s just as tragic.

As mentioned earlier the film is not merely an existential contemplative exercise – it has style to spare. Melville’s aesthetics are nothing like his fellow New Waver’s, he is far more subtle, but Le Cercle Rouge’s attitude is in the same spirit as Godard’s film, for instance, and you’re always certain that you’re in the hands of a master. Melville gives most of his actors the onus of carrying the attitude and portraying the suave criminals, so that the effect is far more subtle. Consider Corey: he never shoots anyone, but when he holds a gun, he looks like he knows what he’s doing with it. Look at the way Melville’s characters smoke a cigarette – countless filmmakers have probably coached their actors on how to be cool by referencing Melville, and specifically this film. That attitude and style elevate it from being simply a morose, existential character study about the loneliness of criminals (although that is definitely lurking in Melville’s films, especially Le Samourai). Melville, more than anything else, seems interested in the camaraderie, the friendship of this rag-tag group of criminals that occurred through mere happenstance. If Corey’s trunk wouldn’t have been available, then he would have never met Vogel.

About chance: this is something that as a professional criminal you would not subscribe to. Look at the contrast between the meticulously planned heist at the end of the film, and the chance meeting between Corey and Vogel. Melville likes to play with the notion of happenstance and how it ultimately acts as the downfall for these criminals; which makes sense, because really a criminal who relies solely on luck is bound to get caught.

The film is also a masterpiece in mis-en-scene. Consider the still above: Corey is talking with Jansen about selling off the jewelery they just stole. Jansen explains to Corey that he doesn't want his cut of the loot. Corey has freed him of his demons (there is a very bizarre nightmare scene as we are introduced to Jansen, as obviously he did something as a policeman that he wasn't proud of) and that is enough of a payment. An odd thing to say for a criminal, and look at the picture on the wall as Corey and Jansen are talking. There's a gun pointed a Corey, knowing that he is about to set foot in a trap Melville slyly foreshadows Corey's suicide mission of selling the jewelry to someone he's never sold to before. It's a great piece of blocking by Melville, and it's evident throughout his films.

I have a special affinity for Melville: when I was about 13 I was a huge fan of John Woo, especially is beautiful ballet of violence The Killer. When I read an interview with Woo stating that Melville’s Le Samourai was the inspiration for his film, specifically the main character played by Chow Yun-Fat, I immediately ran out to find a copy of Melville’s film. Well the film was a little too slow for this 13 year old, but something did indeed happen while I watched the film: I realized that film didn’t exist just to keep us busy with bullets flying and explosions on screen. My eyes were opened to the possibilities of what film could offer; so, even though I kind of thought Le Samourai was boring then, I stuck with it until the end, and found it to be one of the most rewarding film experiences of my life. It ushered me into a new kind of film-going experience, an experience that now included an array of films from all over the world, and I now saw that film could be thought about during the viewing of the film: Melville’s film invited me, offered me the opportunity to contemplate what the film meant in between scenes, not just when the credits rolled. That’s when I was hooked. So even though my assessment of Le Cercle Rouge may be a bit biased, containing just the slightest taint of nostalgia, I don’t think that’s such a bad thing. It’s a great entertainment, a great contemplative film, and a great example of why the French New Wave was so hugely popular and influential.



There is a remake in the works with Chow Yun-Fat, Liam Neeson, and (gulp) Orlando Bloom as Corey. You can read about some of the details on imdb.


6 comments

  1. You covered so much of why the movie is great that I'll just ditto your general remarks on the film.

    What's great about Melville is the relative ease with which you can get into his movies. French New Wave is something of an acquired taste and Melville is a great introduction to some of the styles and themes prevalent in those films.

    Maybe this is a poor example, but I think of Godard's Pierrot le fou as a somewhat contemporaneous movie to compare with Melville's, and Melville comes out way ahead in terms of subtlety, narrative, and ease of following (assuming that's what does it for you. Godard's film is still quite good).

    In fact, the director I find myself twinning him with is actually Hitchcock -- although it could simply be nothing more than the fact they are two of my favorite directors. Still, the best part of both directors films are just how effective they are at using pacing, silence, and the camera to extract tension.

    Your point about the film making cigarette smoking look so cool is dead on. I wish I could be as much of a man as Alain Delon is. Perhaps part of the reason he was so good in these films is due to his rumored connection with French gangsters (including his connection to a sex/drug ring and dead people).

    On Ghost Dog being similar to a Melville film -- I thought that Jarmusch stated that it was a homage to Le Samurai. We should watch those and The Killer all in a row and do some compare and contrast.

    And as for that remake...oh boy.

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  2. Troy:

    You're right on about the pacing of this film. Melville's deliberate pace allows the viewer to ease into comfort and enjoy the ride -- there's nothing jarring or nerve-racking about the film, but the film still has greatly executed scenes of tension.

    I like your comparison to Hitch as I think you're onto something about his films and their influence on how Melville utilized silence as a tool for tension. The way the camera wanders throughout Melville's films is reminiscent of some of Hitch's best moments in films like Notorious and Suspicion.

    Ghost Dog probably was based more on Le Samourai, but I was getting at a more general feeling in Jarmusch's films...that's where I see Melville in Jarmusch's films (and it especially sounds like that's the case with his newest film The Limit's of Control, which seems to really be polarizing critics. Ebert was brutal to the film, giving it a half star rating!).

    I think watching Ghost Dog and The Killer along with Le Samourai would be a fun exercise. It's been awhile since I've seen Woo's film.

    Finally, you're right about Godard and Melville in comparison to each other. Godard is someone I've always admired (how can you not as a film lover), but he's also someone I've never got along with. I don't much care for his films, and I've never cared to watch them multiple times - like most French New Wave I find him pretty pretentious at times. This is why I prefer the subtlety and nuanced filmmaking style of Melville over all other New Waver’s.

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  3. Congratulations Kevin on an altogether extraordinary treatment of this seminal New Wave masterpiece. I am hardly surprised, taking into account your passion and superlative writing talents. To have written such a magisterial examination of this rather difficult film at 2:00 in the morning is simply remarkable.

    "There’s a certain kind of aura to Jean-Pierre Melville’s films; a kind of gravitational pull that sucks you into the story and places you in the most wonderful kind of reverie."

    What a masterly way to put it. It's quite true, methinks, that Melville's film works in a way that few filmmakers can emulate. He's one of the few that can make a simple stroll down a street a fascinating event, and simple behavioral patterns hold eternal intrigues.

    "The film is also a masterpiece in mis-en-scene. Consider the still above....."

    Indeed Kevin, indeed. And you've completed an exhaustive examination of the narrative thrust of the film and all the trademark Melville touches, like the holding of a cigarette and the "connection" of the characters as you brilliantly explain here:

    "That attitude and style elevate it from being simply a morose, existential character study about the loneliness of criminals (although that is definitely lurking in Melville’s films, especially Le Samourai). Melville, more than anything else, seems interested in the camaraderie, the friendship of this rag-tag group of criminals that occurred through mere happenstance."

    And I have to tip my cap to you for this smashing passage:

    "The plot is intricate, but executed in the most simplistic, minimalist way possible – that is not to say that the film isn’t deep; rather, its simplicity allows for those wonderful moments of contemplation I alluded to earlier: where the viewer is drawing their own conclusions and creating their own past histories for these characters. The film contains scene after scene of brilliantly understated coolness. It all leads to one of the most brilliantly executed and taut heist scenes I’ve ever seen in a film – all without the aid of post production or unnecessary expository dialogue during the scene. The heist scene is at least 30 minutes long, but the scene is filmed as if the viewer were doing the job with the criminals. It’s highly effective and never boring; it’s definitely the highlight of the film, and Melville didn’t have to ‘sex’ up the scene to make it more ‘interesting’ or ‘entertaining’ for the viewer – he trusts the scene to be interesting enough to keep the viewer on the edge of their seat."

    Wow wow wow, great writing, astute insights. I must say as a huge fan of this film for years that I couldn't agree with you more. It's certainly the greatest hesist scene in any film, far greater than those recent commercial films you mention, and eclipsing even Stanley Kubrick's THE KILLING, Jules Dassin's RIFIFI and Quentin Tarantino's RESERVOIR DOGS. In neither of those other films (and all are great within their own parameters of course) is the viewer so immersed in the common place. But this is Melville's gift. I must rank that first 30 minutes as one of the greatest extended sequences in the history of the cinema. And I most assuredly share yours (and Troy's) love for LE SAMURAI as well, and resognize the sphere of its influence.

    As far as the discussion of the New Wave masters, which spilled over into the comments, I can't really oppose you here. Godard is not always easy to take, and some of his films leave me cold, while others evince various strains of pretension. Truffaut did have three masterpieces, and Malle has several exceedingly good films. But melville is standing tall now in this group with only Godard being favored by some of the intelligensia, including some bloggers we both admire.

    Thanks for writing this fantastic film and for reminding me what a masterpiece we have here.

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  4. Well Sam, you've outdone yourself again. Thanks so very much for the kind words. Like I've said numerous times, it's comments like yours, and the always worthwhile dialogue you add to the conversation, that make this blog such a joy.

    You're right on about Melville can take a simple stroll down the street interesting...which took my mind to the new Jarmusch film. It's dividing its viewers big time, and it sounds like the film is essentially one long stroll down a street. I'm still very excited to see it, though.

    And yes we are in agreement with Goddard. At least he's not as polarizing a director for us as Stanley Kubrick seems to be (haha, based on one of our recent conversations here about A Clockwork Orange), and I will proudly line up with camp who champions his work; however, when compared to Melville it's easy, in this blogger's eyes, to see who stands tallest.

    And make no mistake: I love the New Waver's. Truffaut's Jules and Jim is one of the first French films I ever saw and I fell in love with it immediately. Sadly I am not well versed in Malle. Perhaps you have some obvious choices for me to add to my Netflix queue -- after all I have you to thank for pointing me towards Le Cercle Rouge.

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  5. Kevin, you sum up Melville's virtues quite nicely. I think it needs to be recognized that he was one of the most effective cinematic storytellers ever. His films are minimalist yet immersive. The writing and the performances he elicits commit you completely to every detail of a deceptively invisible style that doesn't hide a distinctive, powerful sensibility.

    Let me also step in to recommend "Elevator to the Gallows" and Lacombe, Lucien as must-see Louis Malle films.

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  6. Samuel:

    First, let me just thank you for stopping by and taking a look at the blog, not to mention taking the time to leave such a great comment.

    As Melville's films go, you're absolutely right when you say he is one of the most "effective cinematic storytellers". I couldn't agree more. Le Samourai still stands as one of the most hypnotic films to come out of the New Wave movement.

    I especially like this part of your comment:

    "The writing and the performances he elicits commit you completely to every detail of a deceptively invisible style that doesn't hide a distinctive, powerful sensibility."

    Wow. What a wonderful way of summing up Melville's nuanced stylings.

    Thanks for the Malle recommendations. I'm going to add them to my Netflix queue pronto. I look forward to watching them.

    Thanks again for stopping by and commenting. I hope to see you around here on a regular basis -- it's always great to have intelligent commentators like yourself adding to the discussion and making this blog a better place.

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