Le Trou

Claude behind a wire screen

How about this for authenticity – Le Trou opens not with music or credits but with a camera pan across to a man working on a car. Noticing the camera, the man gets up and says, (translated) “Hello. My friend Jacques Becker has recreated a true story in all its detail. My story. It took place in 1947 at the La Santé prison.” The man is Jean Keraudy, who led an attempted escape from the notorious Parisian prison, and he appears as himself in Becker’s dramatisation of it, perhaps the greatest prison escape movie ever made.

Becker made the movie in 1960 and was dead within weeks of finishing shooting, which did wonders for Le Trou’s publicity and box office. But the film was also rated highly by directors – Melville called it the best French film ever made, Truffaut and Tavernier also raved over it. The years have been less kind. Whereas the likes of A Man Escaped, The Great Escape or even The Shawshank Redemption bathe in the warm glow of the Best Of… lists, Le Trou is often missing. So much for Best Of… lists.

It’s a masterpiece of detailed film-making, with an urgent but remarkably simple story. A new guy is moved into the cell already shared by four seasoned lags. After sizing him up, they let him in to a secret – they’re planning a prison break. He joins them and they set about breaking out, using tools fashioned from what they can find in the cell.

The new guy is played by an actual actor, the pretty Marc Michel (later of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg), while the lags, all amateurs (though some would use the film as a springboard), are Keraudy, Michel Constantin, Philippe Leroy and Raymond Meunier, each playing a broad-strokes character. Darban (Keraudy) the technical escape expert always busy with his hands, Geo (Constantin) sleepy and gravel-voiced, Manu suspicious and coolly decisive, Vosselin (Meunier) the friendly joker of the pack.

Keraudy introduces the film
Keraudy introduces the film

The camaraderie of the cellmates is palpable. This is as much a study of the codes of masculinity as it is of a prison break and it’s noticeable that Claude (Michel) is treated slightly differently from the rest throughout. Claude is never seen digging, Becker drops in unsettling reaction shots here and there, and it turns out that he was a kept man on the outside. It all adds up to a picture of what we’d now call metrosexual masculinity. He’s getting food parcels from outside too, with fancy schmancy stuff inside.

But it’s the detail of the escape that really holds the attention, and here is where Keraudy comes into his own. Not for nothing was known in real life as the “King of Escape” and there’s really no dividing line between Keraudy the real man and Darban, the character he’s playing, the technical whizz, fashioning a “periscope” from a toothbrush and a shard of mirror one minute, a makeshift pick or a key from a bit of bedstead the next. At one point two of the others turn to each other and hymn Darban’s skills, and it’s obvious that the actors are referring to the man rather than the character he’s playing.

At key moments Becker just leaves his camera focused on a spot as the guys go at it with full force, the hammering drowning out any speech, the concrete refusing to break because it’s real concrete – there’s a four-minute sequence early on that’s nothing but noise and movement, except for when one exhausted man hands over to another.

Becker is impressed by the gargantuan but nigglesome effort of it all, much as Bresson was in A Man Escaped, and he keeps us focused on that effort by keeping his camera unfussy. There’s also no music on the soundtrack, no flashbacks, no fancy edits, nothing to divert the attention.

The DP is Ghislain Cloquet, who worked with Bresson on Au Hasard Balthasar, and while he keeps the cells a range of greys, he gets more stygian down below, once the men have broken through into the sewers. It’s a simply shot film with a carefully controlled look, and the 4K restoration (I watched the StudioCanal version, which I think is broadly the same as the Criterion one) does Cloquet’s work proud.

Perhaps most remarkable of all, in spite of the passing of the years and changing fashions this gripping and fascinating film still works exactly as it’s meant to. A classic, in other words.

Le Trou – Watch it/buy it at Amazon

I am an Amazon affiliate

© Steve Morrissey 2021

Le Deuxième Souffle

Gu in a car pointing a gun

The title of Jean-Pierre Melville’s 1966 gangster drama Le Deuxième Souffle is often translated as The Second Wind, though The Last Gasp would also work pretty well, since it’s a story about a career criminal breaking out of jail and trying to get out of France with his woman. Stuck for cash, the fugitive takes part in a “one last job” heist, which does indeed turn out to be his one last job.

Lino Ventura plays the criminal Gu, short for Gustave, so ruthless a character that Melville puts up a disclaimer before the film that he personally does not condone any of the actions that the audience are about to see on screen – it’s just a story, he’s saying, more or less. It’s great casting, Ventura being a former wrestler and exactly the sort of man’s man that Melville liked to use in his films, the better to explore codes of masculinity, and particularly of criminals.

If that first paragraph is a bit spoilerish, in my defence I’ll just point out that there is a doomed aspect to Gu from the start. That’s perhaps the film’s greatest attribute, its atmosphere of fated inevitability. Gu, far from a good guy but in some way an existential hero Jean Paul Sartre would recognise, is determined to live his life according to his own lights, and if that means death, then so be it.

Opposite Gu, and the only character who really has full use of their face – Melville keeps the rest of them under rictus-tight control, a smile rendered as a flick of the corner of the mouth, anger as a tiny flash of the eyes – is Commissaire Blot (Paul Meurisse), the cop on the case and an avenging angel who’s charming, suave, a bit of a ladies man, clever and hugely sarcastic. When Blot arrives at the scene of a shooting early on, he goes from one “I saw nothing” witness to the next, not even bothering to question them, and instead telling them the story they’re about to tell him, detailing exactly how they saw nothing.

Christine Fabréga as Manouche
Femme fatale Manouche

Melville was known for his love of American movies and this is a 1960s movie with the ambience of a 1940s American one – hats and macs, cars and bars, and a femme fatale (in the shape of Christine Fabréga) with only a totemic function. Manouche (Fabréga) has little to contribute to the plot but is there because… well, that’s the way these things are done.

Detail is the other thing that Melville is famous for and his command of a fetching location. Le Deuxième Souffle is screengrabbable in the extreme. Especially when it gets to the moment of the grand heist, when tightly claustrophobic interiors suddenly give way to the wide open expanse of a windy, hairpinny road where a bullion van containing platinum is about to be jumped by Gu and his new brothers in crime.

Atmospheric, impeccably filmed in rich monochrome (this was Melville’s last black and white film) and beautifully edited, this film is a delight for lovers of craft and technique. But it’s also a long, slow film and, considering that its plot can be sketched in half a sentence, can be a frustrating watch if you’re not in the mood to bask in the locations Melville has so painstakingly chosen – a swish nightclub, a grotty hideaway, a lush apartment where Paul Ricci (Raymond Pellegrin) is organising the heist Gu will eventually join, the heist panorama itself – and the tightly controlled actors Melville has chosen to play his characters. Was any film better cast? Every face tells a story, from that of Fabréga, the blonde floozy, to Marcel Bozzuffi, who plays mastermind Paul Ricci’s crooked brother, to Michel Constantin, a noble henchman with a doomed thing for Manouche.

There is honour among thieves in Le Deuxième Souffle… until there isn’t. Melville’s story isn’t really about criminal justice catching up with Gu, but about the criminal code of honour failing him when it matters, and in Lino Ventura he has an actor who wears the realisation that his time might be up on his face from the first frame.

Le Deuxième Souffle – Watch it/buy it at Amazon

I am an Amazon affiliate

© Steve Morrissey 2021