Recours en grâce (1960)
Directed by Laslo Benedek

Film Review

That László Benedek's one and only dalliance with French cinema, Recours en grâce, is all but forgotten is somewhat hard to fathom given the pedigree of both its director and his incredibly talented principal cast.  At the time, Benedek had a reputation as one of Hollywood's star auteurs, internationally renowned for The Wild One (1953) - the classic biker movie that made Marlon Brando a screen icon and helped to usher in a new era of modernity in American cinema, spearheading the counter-culture revolution of the late '60s, early '70s.  Just a few years before this, he had turned in the first screen adaptation of Arthur Miller's award winning play Death of a Salesman - a sour critique of mid-'50s America that was enthusiastically praised by some but lambasted by others, including Miller himself.  By the late 1950s, the Hungarian-born filmmaker's Hollywood career was all but over and for the next decade he devoted most of his time to American television, working on such popular shows as Perry Mason, Rawhide and The Outer Limits.

Benedek was a far from obvious choice to direct what is a fairly run of the mill French melodrama, and whilst the film is far from being his best work it has many points of interest and is a surprisingly good example of its genre for the time.  Recours en grâce is based on a novel by the successful crime writer Noël Calef, whose romantic thriller Ascenseur pour l'échafaud had already been adapted for cinema by Louis Malle, at the time when the French New Wave was poised to burst onto the scene.  Benedek's sluggish French melodrama may lack the slick, stylish modernity of Malle's film (it now looks pretty dated in comparison) but it is still an enjoyably dark and brooding work that delivers a hefty emotional wallop through a combination of sublime performances and some highly atmospheric cinematography, exquisitely redolent of classic American film noir at its best.

The film's most distinguishing aspect is its attention-grabbing cast, which includes some of the most talented performers of the day, albeit most at a very early stage in their illustrious careers.  Taking the leading role is an impressive Raf Vallone, who first came to prominence in his native Italy through Giuseppe De Santis's neo-realist drama Riso amaro (1949).  After his success as the lead in Marcel Carné's Thérèse Raquin (1953), Vallone was highly sought after by a diverse mix of European filmmakers for his rare blend of raw machismo and almost feminine sensitivity as a performer, physicality and emotionality being equally prominent in his strikingly modern style of acting.  The doomed hero of Recours en grâce is one that Vallone was ideally suited to portray on screen, and the actor turns in one of his most devastating performances, in spite of a so-so script that at times feels lacking in depth and focus.

Vallone is all the better here for being partnered with two of the most gifted and alluring of French actresses, Emmanuelle Riva and Annie Girardot, whose portrayals of contemporary femininity make a striking contrast with each other and serve to underline the harrowing masculine vulnerability of Vallone's character.  At the time, Riva was the better known actress, having met with worldwide acclaim for her leading performance in Alain Resnais's Hiroshima mon amour (1959).  A few years later, she would tale the Best Actress award at Venice for her role in another critical hit of the time, Georges Franju's Thérèse Desqueyroux (1962).  Annie Girardot wasn't quite as well-known at the time, although she had had one notable stage hit in 1958 - Luchino Visconti's production of Deux sur la balançoire opposite Jean Marais - and would garner international attention through Visconti's subsequent feature Rocco and His Brothers (1960), along with another rising star, Alain Delon.

Annie Girardot has the smaller of the two principal female roles but hers is the more committed and memorable performance, with one scene having a particularly powerful resonance - the one in which the abandoned Lilla lays bear her badly bruised soul in a desperate attempt to win back Mario's love.  Emmanuelle Riva has more difficulty rising above the mundanity of the script but she still gives our emotions quite a pummelling, particularly in the film's later scenes as the all-too-predictable tragic denouement plays itself out in front of our eyes.  In narrative terms, the surprises end around the film's mid-point, after which the plot unravels as mechanically as that of any dreary old school film noir.  It is the high class performances that keep us compulsively involved, their pathos and visceral intensity heightened by the bleak lyricism of Michel Kelber's stark black-and-white cinematography and Léon Barsacq's oppressively noirish sets, both of which are heavily laden with expressionistic foreboding throughout.

Recours en grâce ends with an all-too-conscious nod to John Boulting's earlier noir masterpiece Brighton Rock (1948), in which the bereaved heroine is visited by the spirit of her lost lover though the medium of a posthumously received recording.  Whilst Boulting's film perverts the ending to Greene's famous novel for his own ironic purposes (maintaining a silly romantic delusion rather than dispelling it), Benedek and Calef use the same device with a more noble end, to bring about a poignant redemption and union for the star-crossed protagonists.  Recours en grâce pales in comparison with Benedek's earlier Hollywood achievements but it still has a great deal going for it - and as a statement of the redeeming power of love, in a world where love is all too easily crushed out of existence by cynicism and fear of betrayal, it makes a lasting impression.

Film Synopsis

Mario Di Donati, an Italian immigrant, is leading an idyllic life in France, happily settled with his lover Germaine Tourier and her infant daughter from an earlier failed relationship.  One day, Mario's world comes crashing down when his shameful past suddenly catches up with him.  The one secret he has kept from Germaine is that during the war he deserted whilst serving in the French army.  It was a moment of madness, a panicky reaction to a desperate situation, that he has since regretted.  When he is forced to reveal his secret to his lover, her reaction is far worse than he could have imagined.  Germaine has already been badly let down by one man, who abandoned her after fathering her child, and she cannot cope with the trauma of another betrayal.

Devastated by his lover's rejection of him, Mario hands himself over to the police and he is duly tried and condemned for desertion.  Mario cannot go to his death without first making his peace with Germaine, so after the trial he escapes from police custody and returns to the district of Paris where he had such happy times with his lover.  His efforts to meet up with Germaine are thwarted by the police, who are expecting his return to the area, and his ex-partner Lilla, who is still passionately in love with him.  Mario's friends convince the fugitive that the best course is to leave the city and lie low for a few years, but before he can make his escape the police show up at the rendez-vous, apparently having received a tip-off.

With Lilla's help, Mario narrowly evades capture, but he still remains determined to see Germaine.  Calling on her apartment, he is caught in a violent confrontation with the police which results in one officer accidentally falling to his death in a stairwell.  Now branded a cop killer, Mario's situation is even more desperate.  He arranges to meet up with Germaine at a deserted graveyard in the dead of night, but after they exchange a few words the police show up and he is shot dead.  Returning to her apartment, Germaine hears a record sent to her by her lover just before their fatal last meeting - a record on which he relates everything he had wanted to tell her in person before he died, in the hope of gaining her forgiveness.