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Master thieves at work! |
Director: Jules Dassin
Cast: Jean Servais (Tony "le Stéphanois"), Carl
Möhner (Jo "le Suédois"), Robert Manuel (Mario Ferrati), Jules Dassin
(César "le Milanais"), Magali Noël (Viviane), Claude Sylvain (Ida),
Marcel Lupovici (Pierre Grutter), Robert Hossein (Rémy Grutter), Pierre Grasset
(Louis Grutter), Marie Sabouret (Mado), Janine Darcey (Louise)
After you’ve spent some time watching some pretty duff
films, finally sitting down and watching a masterpiece of any genre is a
complete relief. That’s pretty much what this film is. Which is particularly
interesting when you learn the film is based on a book that Dassin (it’s
director) described as one of the worst books that he had ever read. He took
the job only because (with his blacklisting in Hollywood) he was worried he
would never work again, and only on condition that he could completely
restructure the original script.
Newly released from prison, Tony (Jean Servais) is
approached to take part in a smash-and-grab raid on a jewellery store by his
old criminal contacts. He rejects the idea, but after discovering his former
lover has left him for a gangster rival in his absence he changes his mind, on
condition that the smash-and-grab plan is replaced by a complex operation that
will clear out the shop’s safe containing over 250 million Francs’ worth of
jewels. But in the criminal underworld, they discover there are always bigger
fish circling to take their cut by any means they can.
I watched this film three days ago, and its effect was so
lasting I feel almost as if I have watched it several times in my mind’s eye
since then. Jules Dassin, an under-rated director, has a mastery of visual
language and tense narrative that burns nearly every single scene into your
retina. Rififi is a technically
assured, dazzling piece of cinema that gives heft and weight to a simple story,
and also has something interesting to say about human nature and the codes that
dictate the lives of thieves.
Any discussion of the film probably needs to start with its
highlight: a 28 minute sequence detailing the robbery itself, told in near silence
and shot with forensic detail. In fact, so intelligently thought-through was
this scene that in many countries it earned the film a ban, as it was feared it
was too much of a “how-to” guide for thieves. The scene is a unique creation of
Dassin’s – the comparative scene in the book is no more than 2-3 pages. Here
it’s a quarter of the movie. The movie is here but check sequence out at around 45:00.
The scene is blisteringly tense, and the decision to keep
the action silent means every single noise (a piano key, the whirr of a drill,
the bang of a hammer) carries huge tension. There is, as many reviewers have
noted, no particular reason for the thieves to keep to strict silence – but
it’s dynamite cinema. Dassin combines this tension with a delighted observance
of the ingenuity of these criminals. Everyday items are brilliantly repurposed
to perform specific tasks (I particularly enjoyed the use of an umbrella as a
vital tool). Dassin celebrates the effectiveness and skill of these burglars, and
their technique and skill is infectiously entertaining.
Dassin probably invented the genre of the heist movie here –
and he encourages us to feel a delight in the accomplishment and ambition of
the heist. But he also reminds us that these are criminals: weapons are banned
as they will guarantee a long prison stretch; the couple whose house they
invade are ruthlessly chloroformed and tied up; a policeman is bludgeoned as
part of the get-away. In the third act of the film we see that Tony in
particular is no shrinking violet when it comes to violence.
The build-up to the heist establishes each of the characters
clearly, along with the flaws that will revisit them later: Tony makes enemies
too easily, Jo’s loyalty affects his judgement, Mario is too happy-go-lucky, César
has a weakness for women. A number of sequences show us the gang’s preparations
– from hours of surveillance, to an amusing sequence where they experiment with
methods to beat the store’s top-of-the-line alarm before a moment of
inspiration hits them.
The third act of the film however takes us into a dark exploration
of the loyalties and codes of honour that govern the criminal underworld. Tony’s
enemies try to muscle in on the proceeds, leading to a series of increasingly
violent episodes, as move and counter move is made to secure control of the
funds. Here Dassin again pulls no punches – we have swearing, we have murder,
we have a strung-out junkie kidnapping a child in return for a free hit – and
it’s brilliantly put together.
It also tells us something. Tony has a code – and whether we
agree with it or not, he’s faithful to it. Dassin himself plays the man whose
fondness for a vain singer will leak out the plot details (it’s a lovely
performance – and the man who was blacklisted must have had some delight here
in playing a grass) and the confrontation scene with Tony is great: “I really
liked you” Tony states sadly and regretfully: that doesn’t change his mind. Tony’s
rival Grutter lacks even Tony’s sense of fairplay and his ruthlessness puts the
other gangsters into perspective and questions Tony’s ideas of a code of honour
among thieves: Grutter is a success precisely because he doesn’t give a toss
about that sort of thing.
If the film has a flaw, it’s in its treatment of the female
characters. Although Dassin arguably suggests that in this mileu many of them
are just powerless passengers swept along by the actions of their men, they
still seem less than fully formed characters, defined by simple character
traits (Louise is a mother, Viviane is shallow, Ida is a flirt). The one dull
section of the film follows Viviane singing in a nightclub – a scene introduced
solely to drop the title and explain its meaning.
The film is also, at best, neutral in what it expects us to
make of Tony brief whipping (off-screen) his ex-girlfriend Mado with a belt,
after she betrays him with the gangster Grutter. Particularly as Mado seems to
believe herself at fault rather than Tony. The scene is more about Tony – it’s
his feeling of powerlessness that the camera focuses on – and Mado seems to
shrug off the three blows she receives as just the price of living. Ah well,
that’s the fifties for you I guess. And it’s not as if Tony – a moody man
perfectly capable of cold blooded killing later – is a saint in any case. We
also have the balance of Jo and Mario’s loving regard for their wives – and César’s
misguided affection for Viviane.
And of course Tony our “hero” is certainly an anti-hero. In
his first scene he’s stroppily demanding “in” on a poker game he doesn’t have
the funds for. He’s demanding and surly with everyone except his godson. He is
ruthless when he needs to be. Jean Servais’ crumpled, baggy face and dead-eyed
stare genuinely make him look like a man who has spent five years inside. His
adherence to his moral code is so rigid no level of regret will stop him
punishing those whom he deems have deserved death. Dassin also undercuts his
potential tragic greatness, as trivial events – a missed phone call principally
– lead him to destruction.
The film’s final sequence is inspired, and again wordless. A
dying man races a car through the city to return a child to his mother. Is it
devotion to the child? Does he want to get the money back to the only family he
has? Has he accepted death? Is he racing for a chance of living? Around him the
camera whirls, the editing is frantic and the child cavorts in the car
oblivious of the danger. It’s a sequence that is both moving and strangely
profound. It’s the final masterstroke in a film full of them.
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