Film Review
The French film that is perhaps most evocative of early
American film noir (that of the 1940s) is Julien Duvivier's doom-laden
masterpiece
Pépé le
Moko, a film that is so depressingly grim that it was banned by
the French government at the outset of WWII through concerns over its
demoralising influence.
Many of the familiar film noir stylistic
and thematic motifs are present in this film, which is hardly
surprising as Duvivier was heavily inspired by Howard Hawks'
genre-defining gangster film
Scarface (1932).
Duvivier's near-expressionistic use of shadows and silhouettes to
create atmosphere and suspense is pure film noir and serves to give the
film its unrelenting aura of fatalistic pessimism, a characteristic
that tends to predominate in this director's oeuvre. The film's
distinctive poetic realist style was quite prevalent in French cinema
in the late 1930s and reflected the prevailing mood of gloom in the
country as its coalition government fell apart and Europe slipped
inexorably towards another protracted and bloody conflict.
Jean Renoir was originally approached to direct
Pépé le
Moko, an adaptation of a novel of the same title by Henri La Barthe (alias Ashelbé),
but he declined and the producers (the famous Hakim brothers) gave the job to Julien Duvivier,
who had recently established himself as one of France's leading filmmakers.
Duvivier had the opportunity to shoot most of the film on
location in Algiers, but he instead opted to recreate the Algerian
Casbah in the Pathé Cinéma studios in Paris. He did
this for artistic rather than budgetary reasons, so that he would have
complete control over the lighting and thereby achieve precisely the
atmosphere he intended for the film. The impressive art design
was overseen by Robert Vernay, who would subsequently become a film
director of some distinction, helming such prestigious period productions as
Le Comte de Monte Cristo (1943)
and
Le Capitan (1946).
There are a few exterior sequences, but these were shot in France, at
Marseilles and Sète. The film's beautifully
expressive film noir look was created by the gifted
cinematographer Jules Kruger, whose previous credits include such
masterworks as Abel Gance's
Napoléon
(1927), Marcel Lherbier's
L'Argent (1928) and Raymond
Bernard's
Les Croix de bois (1932).
Kruger's work is complemented by the film's memorable score, which
offers a haunting evocation of the exotic Mediterranean setting
overlaid with a chilling sensation of inescapable doom. Together,
the lighting and the music convey an oppressive sense of a world in turmoil,
where the forces of darkness and light are locked in perpetual conflict - a
potent metaphor for man's eternal struggle against earthly torment and
death.
Revelling in his most iconic role is Jean Gabin, his fifth
collaboration with Julien Duvivier after
Maria Chapdelaine (1934),
Golgotha (1935),
La
Bandera (1935) and
La Belle équipe
(1936). The part of Pépé le Moko, the king of the
Algerian underworld (Moko being a slang word meaning
from Marseilles), appears to
have been tailor-made for Gabin and it is hard to imagine any other
French actor of the period bringing as much passion, charm and pathos
to the role. Gabin's amiable working class persona and charisma
made him the perfect choice for the role of the doomed romantic
hero. Whether he is cast as the hardened gangster or as a cynical
deserter, he compels us to sympathise with him and see the world
through his eyes, to share his dreams and feel his despair as these
dreams turn to dust. Gabin's natural flair for playing likeable
mavericks with panache and authority is what made him an overnight star
and earned him his status as one of the great icons of French
cinema. It is in
Pépé
le Moko that Gabin gives one of his greatest performances, a
captivating tour de force. He even gets to show off his talent
as a chansonnier, crooning a romantic ballad that became a notable hit in France.
Whilst
Pépé le Moko
is dominated by Jean Gabin's forceful presence, it is not possible to
overlook the contributions from his talented co-stars. In her
first major screen role, Mireille Balin makes a stunning femme fatale
and has an ethereal presence in the film, strangely detached from the
sordid reality in which the hero and his entourage exist. Line
Noro is just as eye-catching as Pépé's neglected
mistress, viciously assailing our heartstrings with her portrayal of
the jilted lover who is ultimately consumed by bitterness and
envy. As the deliciously villainous Inspector Slimane Lucas
Gridoux proves to be a crafty little scene stealer, exuding the
quiet menace and sinister intent of a neo-fascist traffic warden who
has just spotted a 4x4 parked on a double yellow line. Had the
film been made just a few years later, Gridoux would doubtless have
been seen as the epitome of the Vichy government official, festering
nausea-inducing green slime in human form.
As if this was not enough, the supporting cast includes some very
distinguished French character actors - Fernand Charpin, Marcel Dalio,
Gabriel Gabrio, Saturnin Fabre and Gaston Modot - all of whom add
something to the film's rich texture and authenticity. The
sequence in which Charpin's character (another dollop of green slime)
is executed provides the film with one of its dramatic highpoints, the
intense primal savagery of the killing emphasised by some harshly
expressionistic lighting and the cacophony of a mechanical piano.
Cast-wise, the icing on the cake is the presence of the popular musical
hall singer Fréhel, who manages to steal the show completely in
the film's most moving scene, the one where she and Gabin quietly
reflect on their lost past whilst she solemnly intones the words of one
of her own songs
Où est-il
donc? played on a gramophone. This scene, so poignant and
humane, encapsulates the essence of film noir - characters trapped in a
seedy milieu from which there is no hope of escape. The freedom and
future happiness that Gabin and Fréhel dream of will be forever
beyond their grasp - just as it is for every human being.
Pépé le Moko is not
so much a gangster film as a cruel statement of truth, that in the real
world no one lives happily ever after.
When it was re-released after the war,
Pépé le Moko was
widely recognised as a major cinematic achievement. It was
untarnished when the French press (including
the critics on the
Cahiers
du cinéma) laid into Julien Duvivier
towards the end of his career and
is considered today one of the landmarks of 1930s French cinema.
On the back of its international success, Hollywood delivered two
obvious remakes, the first titled
Algiers
(1938), directed by John Cromwell and starring Charles Boyer and Hedy
Lamarr. The second remake,
Casbah
(1948), was directed by John Berry and starred Tony Martin, Yvonne
De Carlo and Peter Lorre. The film also inspired an outlandish spoof entitled
Totò le Moko (1951), which
featured the legendary Italian comic Totò. Needless to say,
none of these imitations can hold a candle to Duvivier's timeless
classic, which is assuredly one of the darkest and most stylish French
films of the 1930s - French film noir at its most vivid and intoxicating.
© James Travers 2002
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.
Next Julien Duvivier film:
Un carnet de bal (1937)