Film Review
Jacques Becker deserves to be considered one of the most important
French filmmakers of the generation that immediately preceded the New
Wave.
Indeed, his last film,
Le
Trou (a.k.a.
The Hole),
was heavily influenced by the arrival of the Nouvelle Vague and shows a
radical shift from Becker's previous, commercially orientated
films. Sadly, this was to be Becker's last film - he died just a
few weeks after filming on
Le Trou
had been completed. At the time of its release, the film was
generally ill-received and fared poorly at the box office, although
some (notably the directors of the French New Wave) hailed it as a
masterpiece. In desperation, the distributors resorted to
trimming the film by around twenty minutes, but this did little to
improve its popularity. It was some time after its first
release that
Le Trou acquired
its present status as one of cinema's greatest prison escape movies, to
be held in the same high regard as other shining examples of the genre such as
Robert Bresson's
Un condamné à mort s'est
échappé (1956) and Don Siegel's
Escape from Alcatraz (1979).
Le Trou is certainly a very
different beast from Jacques Becker's previous films and might easily
be mistaken for the work of an altogether different director.
There is little to connect this film with his crowd-pleasing melodramas
Falbalas
(1945),
Édouard et Caroline (1951)
and
Casque d'or (1952), and the
only film that even vaguely resembles it in Becker's oeuvre is the
landmark film noir policier
Touchez pas au grisbi
(1954).
What sets
Le Trou
apart from all of Becker's other films and makes it his one true
masterpiece is its uncompromising realism. Becker is not
content merely to retell a real-life episode as authentically as
possible; he actually wants his spectators to feel as if they are
participating in the prison escape, to feel something of the
protagonists' physical and mental anguish as they commit themselves
body and soul to realising a fantastic goal. Watching
Le Trou is a gruelling but
viscerally satisfying experience. We forget completely that the
protagonists are hardened criminals who probably deserve to be locked
up. Their unwavering single-minded dedication to their task and
their unbreakable bond of friendship confer on them a kind of heroism,
and we dare not imagine that their adventure will end in failure.
Inevitably, we are drawn to make comparisons with Robert Bresson's
similarly themed
Un condamné
à mort s'est échappé (a.k.a.
A Man Escaped), released just four
years previously. Both films depict a prison escape in meticulous
detail, adopting a low-key realist style which conveys not only the
strenuous physical effort involved but also the accompanying
psychological strain. Bresson's film is generally considered a
more poetic piece than Becker's, and yet
Le Trou does have a certain poetry
to it, albeit one of a darker, far less comforting kind than we find in
Un condamné à mort.
What most distinguishes the two films is the harrowing physicality of
Becker's film. In Bresson's film, the primary struggle is
spiritual - once the hero has overcome his doubts and his fears, his
escape becomes a certainty. In
Le
Trou, the challenge is predominantly a physical one, a battle
between sinew and stone, epitomising man's endless struggle to assert
his mastery over the implacable world that bore him. This isn't
so much a film about a band of convicts trying to break out of prison,
but rather a powerful statement of the dauntless indomitability of the human spirit.
Le Trou owes much of its
gritty realism to the fact that it was co-scripted by José
Giovanni (adapted from his novel of the same title), a one-time prison
detainee who was himself involved in an attempted break-out from the
Santé Prison. Giovanni's firsthand familiarity with the
criminal underworld and the harshness of the French judicial system
allowed him to become a bestselling crime writer and
also a much sought after screenwriter. Shortly after the release
of
Le Trou, Jacques Becker's
son Jean would work with him on an adaptation of another of his novels,
Un
nommé La Rocca (1961). Not long after this,
Giovanni became a very successful film director in his own right,
winning acclaim for such films as
Deux hommes dans la ville
(1973) and
Le Gitan (1975).
Le Trou's razor-sharp realist
edge is further accentuated by Becker's decision to employ
non-professional and inexperienced actors. One of the cellmates
involved in Giovanni's real-life prison break-out, Jean Keraudy, was
even given a leading role in this film. Some of the other actors
- Michel Constantin and Philippe Leroy - went on to pursue long and
successful acting careers, often cast in sympathetic tough guy
roles. The casting of Marc Michel for the role of the outsider
Gaspard is interesting. With his boyish good looks and aura of
innocence, Gaspard initially appears to be the most sympathetic
character. His more roughly hewn cellmates are far less easy to
engage with, but it is they who ultimately earn our respect and
sympathy, whilst Gaspard is revealed to be weak, selfish and
unreliable, someone we couldn't care less about. Marc
Michel is obviously more at home in the artificial world of Jacques
Demy, in such films as
Lola (1961) and
Les Parapluies de Cherbourg (1964).
In
Le Trou, he is so out of
place that we immediately see through him. In what was a bold
move for the time, Becker deliberately casts a likeable and photogenic
young actor (the archetypal matinee idol) in the most antipathetic
role. As he does so, he directs his audience's sympathies to a
gang of unprepossessing roughnecks whose only virtues are their loyalty
to one another and their devotion to a shared cause. Such is the
conviction (no pun intended) that the actors bring to their
performances that Becker achieves his aim and gets us to see beyond our
blinkered pre-conceptions, to judge his characters according to their
moral strength rather than the label that society pins on them.
Another departure from cinematic norm is the complete absence of music
from the film (except for the closing titles). One of the
strengths of
Le Trou is how
familiar sounds are used to create its unremittingly oppressive
atmosphere and to drive home the extreme physical effort involved in
the prison break-out. The prisoners' feeling of confinement
is underscored by the never-ending clamour of prison routine that takes
place outside their cell - the constant clanging of metal doors, the
purposeful tread of the guards patrolling the walkways, keys and locks
screeching mockingly, food trolleys trundling along mournfully.
To this constant tapestry of noise, the prisoners add their own
cacophony of sound, the frenzied smashing of iron into concrete - a
howl of desperate anticipation for a freedom that must be grasped with
primal savagery. Not only does this ear-pummelling din add to the
dramatic tension, it
expresses, more powerfully than words ever could, the intense emotions
of the protagonists. Freedom is not a prize that is easily won. It can
only be snatched by a fantastic exertion of the body and the mind, and
this is precisely what
Le Trou
conveys with its relentless pounding of metal on stone, a pounding that
sounds uncannily like the heartbeat of liberty.
© James Travers 2001
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Next Jacques Becker film:
La Vie est à nous (1936)