Film Review
Of the dozen or so films that Jacques Becker made, only a few have
managed to withstand the test of time, but it is on these few,
undisputed masterpieces, that his reputation as a film auteur of the
first rank rests.
Touchez pas au grisbi (1954) is
a landmark crime drama which helped to establish the
policier as a major genre of French
cinema in the mid-1950s.
Le Trou (1960), Becker's final
film (released after the director's death), feels so modern and so
brutally realistic that it could easily be mistaken for the work of one
of the French New Wave directors.
Casque d'or, Becker's best-known
work, could not be more different from these two films. A
melancholic period melodrama, it initially appears to come from an
earlier era, untainted by the cynacism and bitterness that poisoned the
French psyche during the years of Nazi Occupation. Yet the film
does not feel dated - it has a timeless quality, an immediacy that
makes it supremely easy to engage with. This is surely one of
cinema's most perfect evocations of the delicacy and transience of
romantic love, a film that wreathes its sharp splinters of cruelty in a garland
of exquisite tenderness.
Improbable as it may seem, given the film's fanciful plot and brimming
poetry,
Casque d'or is based
on a true story, although Becker and his co-writers did exercise
considerable poetic licence in
bringing it to the screen. The real-life counterpart of the
central character Marie was the celebrated Parisian prostitute
Amélie Hélie. In the early 1900s, Hélie
associated herself with a gang of rough Parisian criminals who were
dubbed 'Apaches' by the city's newspapers because their savagery was
perceived to be on a par with that of the North American Apache
tribes. The real-life Manda (Joseph Pleigneur) could hardly have
been further from the romantic hero of Becker's film. The vicious
leader of gang of notorious thieves, his relationship with
Amélie Hélie was violent and tempestuous. It was to
Leca, the leader of a rival Apache gang, that Hélie fled,
resulting in a protracted urban war between the two gangs which was
widely reported in the newspapers of the day. Hélie
later sought to profit from her notoriety by playing herself in a stage
musical of her gangland adventures entitled
Casque d'or et les Apaches,
although this was banned by the city's police chief after the play's
premiere re-ignited hostilities between Manda and Leca's
gangs.
Although
Casque d'or is now
held in the highest esteem and is considered one of the highpoints of
French cinema of the 1950s, it met with a distinctly lukewarm reception
on its initial release. The film's critical and commercial
failure came as a severe blow to its director and may have contributed
to his willingness to take on inferior, more populist subjects, such as
the crass
Ali Baba et les quarante voleurs
(1954), in later years. Not all the criticism was bad
however. The enlightened reviewers on the
Cahiers du cinéma recognised
the artistic merits of
Casque d'or
immediately, and its influence can be felt in some of the films that
François Truffaut directed a decade later. One of the
film's most ardent defenders was Lindsay Anderson, the future director
of
This Sporting Life (1963) and
If...
(1968), who was greatly impressed by the sheer expressive power of the
close-ups and the subtle way that the characters revealed their most
intimate feelings through their interaction with their
surroundings.
Casque d'or brought
international fame to it leading actress Simone Signoret, who burns the
celluloid like no other actress since Greta Garbo in her most famous
role, that of the sympathetic prostitute Marie. Signoret had made
her screen breakthrough a few years previously in
Dédée
d'Anvers (1948), a memorable film noir melodrama directed by
her first husband Yves Allégret.
Casque d'or raised Signoret's
international profile considerably - it won her a BAFTA and led her to
be offered her Oscar winning role in
Room
at the Top (1959) - although it also served to limit her
repertoire. It was many years before the actress was able to
demonstrate her versatility through roles which were not exclusively
fallen women.
Casque d'or
may not be the film in which Signoret gives her greatest performance
(this accolade would come much later in her career) but it is assuredly
the one in which she is at her most sensual and jaw-droppingly
beautiful. Rarely has the camera been so kind to an actress, and
rarely has an actress looked so radiant on the screen. The
retina-searing close-ups of Signoret in this film have an unreal,
iconic quality, feminine pulchritude at its most stunning.
The film also provided an immense career boost to Signoret's co-star,
the Italian-born actor Serge Reggiani. Previously, Reggiani was
noted for playing seedy villainous types, such as the loathsome
informer in Marcel Carné's
Les Portes de la nuit (1946)
and the black marketeer in H.G. Clouzot's
Manon
(1949). Max Ophüls's
La Ronde (1950) revealed a more
sympathetic screen persona, in a touching little vignette in which he
played alongside Simone Signoret. It was presumably this that led
Jacques Becker to cast him as the male lead in
Casque d'or, an inspired decision
which allowed the actor to give one of his most memorable screen
performances. Not only is Reggiani physically right for the
part, a far more roughly hewn specimen of humanity than the perfectly
formed Signoret, he also brings great depth to his portrayal, exposing
a fragility and sensitivity beneath a touch macho exterior.
Reggiani's love scenes with Signoret are among the most romantic of any
French film, the subtle gestures of the artists and the poetry of the
mise-en-scène conveying far more to the spectator than any
amount of dialogue. What else needs to be said is adequately
expressed by the haunting tune to
Le
Temps des cerises, a familiar air which accompanies
the lovers on their tragic idyll and which would later be popularised by
Signoret's future husband Yves Montand.
Casque d'or is the most
visually alluring of all Jacques Becker's films. There is nothing
elaborate in the design or photography and yet the film has an
immediate visual impact, far more so than most films of this era.
The authentically created Belle Époque setting, in particular
the sun-drenched location sequences, are powerfully redolent of the
impressionist paintings and instantly call to mind the films of another
great filmmaker for whom Becker had previously worked as an assistant,
Jean Renoir. The opening scenes on the river and at the
guinguette have the same impressionistic vitality, the same harmonious
fusion of light and life, as Renoir's
Partie de campagne (1936), on
which Becker had been the first assistant director. Indeed,
Casque d'or is so evocative of
Renoir's films that it can hardly fail to qualify as an affectionate
tribute by Becker to his close friend and mentor. At the same
time, Becker manages to impose his own auteur vision on the film.
In the hands of a less rigorous, less passionate filmmaker,
Casque d'or could have ended up as
a dry, inconsequential melodrama, of the kind that was all too prevalent
in French cinema in the 1950s. Instead, Becker pours everything
he has into this film and gives it a soul of its own. The result
is a compassionate
hymne à
l'amour which, despite its tragic ending, consoles us with the thought that whilst
we may be mortal, love is enternal. Death does not separate
Georges from his beloved Casque d'or - rather, it is the means by
which the couple are united for eternity, to dance the waltz that has no end.
© James Travers 2011
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Next Jacques Becker film:
Rue de l'estrapade (1953)