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Edward Fox takes aim as suave assassin The Jackal |
Director: Fred Zinnemann
Cast: Edward Fox (The Jackal), Michel Lonsdale (Deputy
Commissioner Claude Lebel), Terence Alexander (Lloyd), Michael Auclair (Colonel
Rolland), Alan Badel (The Minister), Tony Britton (Inspector Thomas), Denis
Carey (Casson), Cyril Cusack (Gunsmith), Maurice Denham (General Colbert), Olga
Georges-Picot (Denise), Barrie Ingham (St. Clair), Derek Jacobi (Caron), Jean
Martin (Wolenski), Ronald Pickup (Forger), Anton Rodgers (Bernard), Delphine
Seyrig (Colette de Montpellier), Donald Sinden (Mallinson), Timothy West
(Commissioner Berthier)

The year is 1962 and the French President Charles de Gaulle
is blamed by many for weakening France by granting independence to Algeria. The
Organisation Armée Secrète (OAS) hire
an English professional assassin known only as The Jackal (Edward Fox) to
assassinate De Gaulle. When word of the target leaks to the panicked French
Government, Commissioner Claude Lebel (Michael Lonsdale) is given an impossible
task – identify a man of whom the government knows nothing and stop him from carrying
out a plan only he knows the details of. Meanwhile, the Jackal relentlessly
goes about his meticulous planning.
So anyone with passing familiarity with history will know
that de Gaulle was not assassinated in the early 60s. Watching The Day of the Jackal, you know that the
Jackal will fail. But that’s not the point of the film. Instead it’s a
masterful, streamlined thriller that completely understands how much we can
invest in watching someone go about a job with calm, cool professionalism. It’s
the ingenuity and meticulousness that makes the film compelling, the way each
angle of the Jackal’s plan is carefully considered and information slowly
delivered to the audience. In some areas we are a couple of steps ahead of
Lebel’s search. In others we are as far behind as he is: we may know the weapon
and the Jackal’s secret identities, but we know as little about his final plan as
Lebel does – it’s only when it’s revealed that all the pieces we’ve seen make
perfect sense.
It’s a film that has been assembled with all the grace and
skill of a master clockmaker. Zinnemann’s direction and Kenneth Ross’ taut
screenplay make every second count. There isn’t a single piece of flab on the
bones of this movie, every scene carries a piece of vital information that
contributes to the overall picture. Zinnemann sprinkles the film with careful
passing shots of calendars and clocks, making the sense of a countdown towards
the Jackal’s strike hang intimidatingly over the whole film. The film is gripping,
right from its opening reconstruction of the almost-successful OAS
assassination attempt on De Gaulle in 1962. Everything feels perfectly
interlinked and connected, each scene brilliantly builds on top of the ones
before.
This is quite simply an unshakeably brilliant engine of a
film, a relentless ride with tension and excitement dripping from every frame.
It’s not afraid to be cruel or dangerous – and some of the victims are truly
blameless – and it’s not afraid to show that violence and cruelty are weapons
as much for the authorities as the Jackal (the cruellest act, after all, is committed
by the French Army on poor loyal Wawlinski).
A large part of the success of the film rests on Edward
Fox’s performance in the lead. Fox gives the Jackal an unshakeable, public-school,
confidence, an attractive resolve that sees him meet every obstacle with a cool
elán, resolutely unperplexed by
anything that he encounters. Fox’s superb performance succeeds in making you
engage with (and even root for) a man who is a cold-blooded professional
killer, who commits murder (when provoked) without hesitation. How does this
happen? Again it’s his efficiency, his expertise. The film totally understands
how engrossing watching talented people go about their work can be.
The film makes the minutia of setting up an operation
immensely compelling. In careful detail, we see exactly how the Jackal goes
about getting a false passport from the authorities. How he scopes out a
potential place to conduct the assassination. His careful preparation of
disguises and fake identities. In one gloriously done scene, we see him practise
using his specially constructed rifle on a melon at a huge range. Carefully he
takes a series of shots at the melon, adjusting the sight each time to make the
weapon as accurate as possible. The scene is a showcase for the Jackal’s
meticulous professionalism (you can see why the producers were outraged when
the scene was cut from a TV screening in the 1980s – it’s practically a
highlight of the movie).
Similar investment, however, is made in the detailed
footwork involved in tracing and detecting the Jackal by the French and English
police. Michael Lonsdale is a perfect foil for Fox’s urbane cool, with his
dour, grey, crumpled Label, a man selected somewhat unwillingly for a mission
but who slowly reveals the cool head and nerves of steel that made him perfect
for the job. The police-work used to try and close the net on the Jackal is as
intricate as the hitman’s own work – careful plodding through files and
methodical calculation and educated guesswork. It’s as far from the rush and tumble
of Hollywood as you can imagine – but somehow, because it feels so real, every
discovery against the odds by the authorities becomes hard-won and exciting.
The sense of a net being skilfully built also serves to make the Jackal’s skilful
evasion of each trap all the more compelling.
And the tense race against time lasts for the whole of the
film. The film brilliantly keeps this cat-and-mouse game alive, with the police
and the Jackal constantly leap-frogging each other to stay one step ahead. Each
move and counter-move has all the intricacy of a chess game. There are enough
twists and turns to keep every audience member gripped. The eventual
assassination attempt itself is built up to beautifully – a wordless, tense but
brilliantly assembled montage of liberation day celebrations keeps both the
police and the audience on their toes as to where the Jackal will strike from.
The finale of the film turns on a twist of fate that is simply a brilliant coup de theatre. There is even a droll
little coda that deepens the mystery of the Jackal even further.
Zinnemann’s direction throughout is flawless – calm,
measured and methodical, and never allowing flash or bombast to drown out events.
It’s helped as well by the wonderful cast of actors – a real who’s-who of
British and French character actor talent, with Alan Badel’s smooth Interior
Minister, Eric Porter’s cool but fanatic OAS leader, Cyril Cusack’s quiet
gunsmith and Derek Jacobi’s eager young detective particular standouts. I also
have a lot of time for Olga Georges-Picot’s quietly moving performance of a
woman pushed to extreme actions by grief.
The Day of the Jackal
is another of those near perfect movies. Everything it sets out to do it does
perfectly, and it rewards constant viewing. It’s got some terrific unflashy
performances and is a perfect demonstration of why professionalism and
expertise can be so engrossing. It wraps this up into a deliciously tense
confection, where every scene bubbles with undercurrents of drama and danger.
There is not an off-beat – instead it’s a brilliant piece of pulp cinema that
transcends itself into being something truly adept and dramatic. You can’t take
your eyes off it for a second. I don’t hesitate for a second in saying it’s one
my favourite thrillers.
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