Movie : Le Samouraï, or: Dissolution, ethics and mortality
Link : Le Samouraï, or: Dissolution, ethics and mortality
Le Samouraï, or: Dissolution, ethics and mortality
Le Samouraï (The Godson) (1967)
Directed by Jean-Pierre Melville
Directed by Jean-Pierre Melville
***SPOILERS***
“I never talk to a man holding a gun,” Jef says with a blank stare. “Is that a rule?” asks the man wielding his weapon.
“It’s a habit.”
No kidding. If any word were more crucial in relating the greatest strength and eventual downfall of Jef Costello (Alain Delon), it’d be “habit.” Or, perhaps, “method.” Method is what fuels the characters of Le Samouraï, and it’s also what drives the story. Method: an idea so ingrained with stagnation and hackneyed routine that it seems unlikely it would become the driving force of a film. Not only does Jean-Pierre Melville’s thrilling masterpiece find grace in such conventions, but the absolute celestial fluidity radiating from Le Samouraï stems from such routine, incorporating colors, lines, symbolism, careful framing and, of course, the characters conducting it all. Even during the film’s most intense moment, a gun to Jef’s face induces a creature of habit, reinforcing the film’s obdurate obsession with methodical customs and, strangely enough, invigorating the thrill.
Describing Melville’s craft would fail in comparison to witnessing the director’s sheer brilliance in constantly building scenes, quietly energizing them through both the environment and his watchful eye. Between Le Doulos and Le Samouraï, Melville abandoned his expressionistic mindset, trading it in for a matured typewriter and a knack for hues and texture. The opening scene features Jef smoking a cigarette whilst lying in bed. The smoke engulfs the air; footsteps can be heard outside; a lone bird trapped in a cage continuously chirps—all of which creates an air of suspense and impending action. As Jef stands up and begins to dress for his eventual assassination attempt, the camera gains a mind of its own, slowly moving forward and back, recreating the Hitchcockian stretch effect used to induce disequilibrium in Vertigo. Being the most adventurous shot of the film, it’s nonetheless unobtrusive, simply relating the intensity of such a situation set against the coolness of Jef. Instead of begging to be noticed, as seen in Le Doulos, Melville’s camerawork becomes a force to be reckoned with, penetrating deep, even in the film’s most somber moments.
We may not realize it at the moment, but the ever-chirping in this scene has already set Jef’s character in motion. As the movie progresses and Jef becomes more and more intertwined between a hell bent police investigation and his murderous employers, the bird becomes more and more erratic. Jef wishes to retire and lead a normal life with Jane (Nathalie Delon). He progressively becomes more distressed, but the necessity in maintaining his aloof image is key to his successful formula and takes precedence. Thus, once Jef finally loses his cool, the shaky manner in which he fumbles for car keys not only contrasts an earlier identical scene where Jef remained rigidly fixated, but also brings about a stark comparison between he and the caged animal.
The opening shot seems commonplace and unsubstantial, but really has set the tone for the film and created an identity for our unknown character. Melville will continue to dictate the tone for the remainder of the film, and it goes beyond penning Jef’s rituals as a killer. Le Samouraï was Melville’s second film in color, but, as he said himself, the film feels as though it was shot in black and white. Greys and dark greens flood Jef’s apartment and the streets he escapes to, giving an ordinary and melancholic feel to a killer and his pursuers’ lifestyles. The police department is much more rigid and organized, painted with browns and tans, stacked high with papers and filled with the murmurs of its inhabitants. A trait Melville had come to master through several films, the glamorized profession of these men is stripped down to its bare essentials. It’s both painfully ordinary and radiatingly beautiful, representing the grunt work in the backdrop of the traditional view of thieves and murderers. Fixating on such banality gives weight to the film’s more bombastic moments, creating a sense of wonder surrounding the cool and calculated murders planned by Jef.
Such an aesthetic amplifies Melville’s screenplay, which is adamant in creating structured plot to coincide with these men’s rigid and calendared lives. Once inside the police station, the viewer endures an excruciatingly slow police investigation that remains fascinating nonetheless. Witnesses from the club sit through several men, taking turns to identify them as the culprit or innocent bystanders. These men, be they murderers or petty thieves, create an idea for the kind of work the police chief (François Périer) endures each day, and they also contrast the reserved and collected Jef. As still as a statue, he stands fixated with a blank stare, removes his hat without being asked and only speaks when spoken to. Each witness takes turns discussing Jef, agreeing and disagreeing about the possibility of him being the murderer. The police chief courts Jef throughout the department, forcing question after question, interrogating alibis and breaking down Jef’s story. The chief’s work is thorough, yet Jef successfully dodges his antics and escapes home free.
Or does he? Much like Bob le Flambeur and Le Doulos, criminals and their chasers always attempt to outsmart one another. And in the police chief’s case, he got exactly what he wanted. While other suspects were singled out for their criminal records, Jef intrigued the chief because he was too clean. With no criminal record and suspiciously unquestionable alibis, Jef seems the perfect candidate to pull off such a clean murder, as opposed to the brutes brought forth in the police lineup. Jef’s male alibi identifies Jef’s outfit too easily, which leads the chief to believe the man’s story is “too airtight.” The back and forth between these men further perpetuates the dick wagging contest Melville seemed so fascinated by. The police easily break into Jef’s home and bug his room—Jef finds bug and menacingly rips out the wire. The chief orchestrates an elaborate field of officers to trail Jef—he cleverly outsmarts one and ruins the entire sequence. By continuously deceiving his opponents, Jef’s meticulousness actually digs a deeper and deeper hole. The better he is at his job, the more convinced the police chief becomes. A never-ending downward spiral begins the second Jef enters the police station, resulting in Jef’s death…one he fittingly précised himself.
And why would Jef do such a thing? The culmination of Melville’s attention to detail is key. As a man who desperately desires to escape with his mistress, he discovers his fate has been sealed. He lets his guard down for Valérie (Cathy Rosier), who’s kindness becomes his downfall. He’s intrigued by her grace because it so adversely represents Jef’s rigid lifestyle. Her apartment and the club are soaked in blacks and whites. They are finely decorated and elaborately constructed. As the entire investigation hinged on Valérie’s word, Jef is thrown off because he no longer controlled his situation—essential to a man so drenched in self-management and discipline. The attraction to Valérie is ethereal; a desire so strong that he allows it to play directly into the police chief’s hand. And once their relationship is discovered, the descent begins. We watch Jef becoming less stern, fumbling for keys and crawling deeper into his employer’s web. His alibis are cracking. The lifestyle loses its fluidity, which seems no longer controlled by Jef. And, set against the unrelenting greys and dark greens of Jef’s rigorous environment, the banality of his work begins to tear away at his character. So when Jef says he must take care of one last thing, his calculated death seems decorously constructed by himself. The man who’s ego cannot be compromised, Jef ultimately wins and controls his own destiny by “outsmarting” the police one last time. Determining where they’d be hiding, he points an empty gun at Valérie and seals his own fate. Alluding to the very samurais the title suggests, Jef is a warrior and a loner. He lives and dies through his profession. He performs is job without spiritual gratification, but only to adhere to its rules and his own self-imposed laws. It’s a seemingly disagreeable way to live, but for Jef, it’s bliss. And while humanizing the character is always the goal, Melville’s ability to strip off the cloak of invincibility will always remain much more fascinating.
Watch Free Movies and Tv shows online in HD quality
Watch Free Films and Network programs online Le Samouraï, or: Dissolution, ethics and mortality HD Quality
Free Movie download and streaming Le Samouraï, or: Dissolution, ethics and mortalityWatch free motion pictures and Television programs online in HD on any gadget. Free Movies offers gushing motion pictures in types like Activity, Repulsiveness, Science fiction, Wrongdoing and Parody. Watch now.
0 Response to "Le Samouraï, or: Dissolution, ethics and mortality"
Posting Komentar