Film Noir Film Noir

French Film Noir:
Touchez pas au Grisbi and Ascenseur pour l’échafaud
Azaria Wassyihun

Film Noir is often regarded as a uniquely American phenomenon. The particular context these films were produced in, marked by the post-war period, infused these films with a unique style Hollywood had never encountered before. America might have been the adequate setting for this unique phenomenon to occur, but film noir would not be the same without it’s international aspects. Famous Austrian born directors Fritz Lang and Billy Wilder were not American, and prior to migrating to the U.S., they had worked in Germany during the German expressionism movement. They brought with them the experience gained overseas, and implemented it into their American
productions. In addition, the term film noir was not invented until French audiences first got their taste of the genre, when the country’s prominent critics coined the term in 1946. (David Boxwell) A step back was necessary, from people not involved in the Hollywood system, to be able to notice this new style emerging. This is where films such as Touchez pas au Grisbi (1954) and Ascenseur pour l’échafaud (1958) enter the picture. Unlike American film noirs from the 40s, these films were made with the choice of injecting the noir virus into them. Yet, in many regards they escape what may be the definition of the quintessential noir, if there is one, while still remaining noir in their own terms. The cultural and social contexts behind these two filmmakers and their films provide insight into how and why they directed noir films. Jacques Becker’s career as a director was short but proficient. In only fifteen years he directed thirteen feature films. His more famous counterparts like Renoir and Melville adored Becker, yet according to critic James Sepsey, he is remembered as Jean Renoir’s sidekick, and not as himself. This might be because his filmography reveals no cohesive link between each film. In his review of Grisbi, Francois Truffaut has this to say about the director: “There are no theories in circulation about Jacques Becker, […] no scholarly analyses, no theses. Neither he nor his work encourages commentary, and so much the better for that. The truth is that Becker has no intention of mystifying or demystifying anyone; his films are neither statements nor indictments.” Evidently, Truffaut did not have the advantage of examining Becker’s entire filmography, and therefore, he misses a crucial point about Becker: his observatory talents. This characteristic is a prominent part of Grisbi and gives it its French flair that distinguishes the film from American noirs. For example, notice the deliberate slowness (the film is slow all throughout, but more so in this scene) during the pâté scene, as Max lays everything out to his best friend. In film noir, what we would take from this scene is that Ritton was duped and that Angelo knows about the loot. Yet, all the audience can focus on is the two men eating and realizing they are getting old. In fact, Grisbi is much more about friendship and coming of age than about crime. In the film Becker examines these two fundamental aspects of life, only in an atypical setting. In addition, by paying such close attention to the relationship between Max and Ritton, Becker lightens the tone of the film by providing its funniest moment: the pajama scene. This is probably the furthest Grisbi goes from being noir: when have audiences ever seen hardened criminals brushing their teeth before going to bed. Only the French could have done it, and make it work. Classic film noir almost exclusively deals with crime, particularly heists. In the Killers (1946), one of the most memorable scenes occurs during the single shot of the heist. In Grisbi, the film opens with Max reading a newspaper headline about the heist he has committed. Thus, one of the first shots immediately jars the informed viewer, leaving him or her wondering what the focus of the plot will be. What they will later find out is that, unlike classic film noir, the plot is not the focus of the film. The film focuses on the psychology of the characters, especially Max, and the code these gangsters live by. Compare this to noirs like The Killers, where the audience is captivated about the unraveling mystery. In Grisbi, the attention to detail is staggering, and twenty minutes in, the audience knows how this crime faction operates. At the head of all this, at least in terms of smarts is the eponymous Max le menteur, played by French legend Jean Gabin. Max is decidedly older than the typical noir protagonist, but more than that, he is in control. Even when events get out of hand, his demeanor remains unshaken. Here, the necessary devolution of the hardened protagonist, which will lead to his demise, is absent. Max, before anything, must not loose control over his own mind and spirit, must not give up, even if it means letting go of the loot. Another variation in the genre is that here, Ritton (a playful name, similar to ratton laveur which means raccoon in French), is in many respects Max’s femme fatale. It is because of him and his so called lover that the plot is set in motion. This leads the film into a noir trope, the voice over, which gives us the only insight into Max’s psychology, beautifully complemented by his beloved harmonica tune. After a loving time with his most respectable lover, he realizes his only true friend is Ritton, and he must save him. If the style of the film could be summed up, it would be described as a subdued version of noir. Chiaroscuro lighting and Venetian blinds are hardly present. The lighting is quite fair the whole way through, Dutch angles are inexistent and tight close ups are rare. Yet there is an undeniable noir quality to the film. The film takes place almost exclusively in interiors, fancy bars, restaurants and apartments. In addition, all exterior scenes are shot at night. Interiors are used for plot and character development while it is through the use of exteriors that the tension arises, and thus the noir elements as well. The first scene to do so occurs when Max leaves the cabaret alone, followed by an ambulance. Here, the chiaroscuro lighting is used effectively, all throughout the chase in Max’s building. At first, there is subtle contrast on Max’s face in the taxi as he notices his tail. Then the bars on the gate offer some effective lighting, as Max seems even more dangerous and prepared, rendering his predators into his preys. This is used to show that Max in his element, and that the men are falling into a trap, which they do as Max traps them in the elevator. Right before he fires the gun, the light goes out, signaling the impending danger. Although this style of lighting does not carry out though the entire film, this particular segment can be seen as the film’s homage to true film noir. Malle’s story is that of talent but also opportunity. Unlike Becker who was already a veteran while making Grisbi, Louis Malle was only twenty-four when he made his first fiction film Ascenseur pour l’échafaud. He had previously made documentaries, and his experience in fiction was due to his work as assistant director to Jacques Cousteau. He adapted Ascenseur with the help of acclaimed writer Roger Nimier, and chose Henri Decaë to shoot the film. A wise choice according to Boston Globe writer Wesley Morris because Decaë had shot Melville’s noir film Bob le Flambeur two years prior. Finally, a chance meeting resulted in jazz legend Miles Davis improvising the score of the film in one night. One might be tempted to say, not bad for a first effort Louis. All these elements contributed to the vast success that was Ascenseur pour l’échafaud. In an interview entitled “Malle on Malle”, Louis Malle himself acknowledges his two main influences. Bresson’s aura can be felt in the elevator scenes, while Hitchcock’s presence is felt in the suspense of the story, as the audience always knows more than the characters in the film. But what of Noir? If a third ingredient could be added to the batch it most certainly would be film noir. Contrarily to Grisbi’s beginning, Ascenseur opens with a noirish stylized phone conversation. This establishes are two lovers, Florence and Julien. The very first shot is of Florence’s closed eyes, with the rest of her face darkened. As the rest of her face is revealed, her eyes open, and we see her in extreme close up, typical of film noir. The camera slowly zooms out, and then there is a cut to Julien, in the same position, with the camera ever so slightly further from him then it was from her. Another key difference between the two is the fact that the space she is in is blurred out at first, but we do see where Julien is located. This provides the film’s first and main motif, the spatial alienation of the two lovers. In fact, they will never share any onscreen time together, yet the whole plot revolves around them. The only time they will be seen together is in photographs, ironically, because it is this piece of evidence that leads to their downfall. Furthermore, the focus of this scene is clearly on Florence, and the fact that we do not automatically see where she is alienates her even further. It seems as if she is speaking to herself, an idea further emphasized by how the conversation ends, with Julien calling to her, expecting her to still be on the line. Miles Davis’s trumpet adds to this alienation, with the music replacing the dialog, as the opening credits sweep in. This is not unlike Walter Neff who is alone with his Dictaphone at the start and at the close of Double Indemnity (1944). We do not doubt her love for Julien, but in the end, she was as alone in the beginning as she is in the end. Alienation is not the only noir trope the film shares with its American counterparts.
In addition to that, a gloomy sense of fate is quickly introduced, as the characters seemed doomed, no matter how smartly they act. Julien’s intricate and flawless plan contrast well with the stupendous mistake he makes. This mistake sets the plot in motion, and from then on, he is seen as powerless. This event introduces the film’s younger couple. Their relationship is at the opposite spectrum of what Julien and Florence share. The two youngsters are seldom seen separated physically, but emotionally their relationship is rotten. They are jealous of Julien and envy his way of life, which is why they set off in his car. Here, the criticism of a younger generation comes into play. In an interview, Malle states: “On top of that I was trying to portray a new generation through the characters of the teenagers (in those days they were called blousons noir because they all wore black leather, those kids from the suburbs) – a description of the new Paris.” Another social context is that of Julien Tavernier’s ex profession and his relationship to his boss, a war profiteer. Here, the allusions to the franco-algerio conflict are clear, which gives the film a more realistic historical context. This differs greatly from classical American noir. The context in those films was often clear but never explicit, nor was it the backdrop of the stories. These historical references give Ascenseur a French
tinge, classifying the film in less allegorical terms than other noirs. In terms of style, the film’s use of lighting is quite revealing.
The film is famous for proving that Jeanne Moreau, who plays Florence, could be superstar. Thus, the scenes where she wanders the streets alone are all the more poignant. The way they are lit reveal much about Malle’s style and influence as a documentarian, as well as Decaë’s style of shooting. These scenes were notorious at the time for being shot with no lighting other than what the street provided. Instead of artificially lighting these scenes and of providing high contrast lighting, the contrast is provided by the darkness of Florence’s character in relation to the streetlights. This gives the film a realistic look to them, and therefore provide a realistic portrayal of 1950s Paris, the French film noir mecca at the time, just as L.A and New York were for American Noir. Even though the lighting is not artificial, this is very much a noir moment, punctuated by Mile’s trumpet. In addition, it gives us an opportunity to delve into her thoughts for a moment, in what I call the French voice-overs. Compare this to Julien’s noir moment, in the interrogation room. This scene lasts four minutes, and is lit by only one light, as all we can see is the characters, with everything else reduced to complete darkness. More than it being a quintessential noir moment, this choice also alludes to the fact that, although we the audience now know the whole plot, Julien is still completely in the dark. In an ironic twist, the
instigator of the course of events that propelled the story forward is the only one left in the dark. Grisbi and Ascenseur are legitimate proof that film noir is not exclusively American. They are also proof that there cannot be one canonical definition of the genre, but rather that each new stylistic effort creates its own definition of what noir is. These two filmmakers have proven that film noir does not need to grow from a specific production context (low cost production, B movie slots…) and that, with the right ingredients, just about anyone can make film noir.

Bibliography:
1. Boxwell, David, Touchez pas au Grisbi, sensesofcinema.com, Senses of Cinema Inc. March, 21, 2003, November 12, 2012
2. Sepsey, James, Jacques Becker, sensesofcinema.com, Senses of Cinema Inc. October, 28, 2004, November 12, 2012
3. Rafferty, Terrence, Film; Observing Characters like Specimens on a Slide, The New York Times, August 31, 2003, November 12, 2012
4. Morris, Wesley, Elevator to the Gallows, The Boston Globe, Globe Newspaper Company, July 22, 2005, November 12, 2012
5. Malle, Louis, Malle on Malle, Phillip French, Editor Faber and Faber, 1992
6. Dehée, Yannick, Les mythes policiers du cinéma français, des années 1930 aux années 1990, Vingtième Siècle. Revue d 'histoire, No. 55 (Jul. - Sep., 1997), pp. 82-100