Original subtitles

Block the cars.

Cars, please.

Same as before. Block only Avenue Hoche.

Allow traffic on rue de Courcelles.

Block pedestrians

on Avenue Hoche.

Straight ahead like that.

Yes, like that. Careful!

Too close, buddy!

Come forward a tiny bit.

Come forward...

two inches.

Stop! No, too much!

A little more. Okay, good! Stay there.

Let's do it.

Places, everyone.

Camera!

Action!

Back in position. Let's do it again.

Reposition the car quickly. - That take was shorter.

Philippe, if we linger too long, it drags.

Melville and I had our disaster. We were supposed to do a film five years ago.

We did screen tests, hair and makeup,

but it didn't work out for reasons I'd rather not discuss,

and so we weren't on good terms for five years.

But like all decent people who've had a falling out,

now everything's roses

because we're working together, and we even laugh about it.

“That was the time when I talked ill of you.”

“And I did the same of you.”

Now it's all laughter and friendship.

What I'd like to talk about,

because this is the first time I've worked with him,

is that he amazes me because he's still a craftsman

even in the middle of this “big deal.”

A film set in 1943 with lots of characters - that's a big deal.

And he's still the craftsman.

His studio on rue Jenner burned down, so he's shooting at the Boulogne studios,

which are much more luxurious,

but his way of working remains the same.

Audiences know Jean-Pierre Melville as the director of films like

Le silence de la mer, Le doulos, Le samourai.

Before listening to a little jazz, one of your favorite pastimes,

we saw a piece on your new film, Army of Shadows,

which you are currently editing.

Why make Army of Shadows? And is it just a film for you?

No, it's a nostalgic reverie about the past.

As Courteline said,

“Unhappy memories! Yet I welcome you. You are my long-lost youth.”

As we grow older, we realize that what should be unhappy memories,

the unhappy memories of 1940-1944,

are now a period we relive in our dreams with nostalgia.

Because we think, “I survived. It was a disaster and I was spared.”

People who survive a plane crash don't regret making the trip.

It's not that.

I think if I'd died...

and I had a twin brother who thought the way I did at the time,

he'd wouldn't be sorry either.

It was a fantastic time, one that had to be experienced.

I'm glad I was 22 years old in 1939.

I consider it a blessing.

Were you in Paris the day the Germans paraded on the Champs-Elysées?

No. I was never in Paris during the Occupation.

Your film opens with German troops on parade.

Was that historical footage or a reenactment?

It was a reenactment.

Everyone on the set was anxious about it.

No one thought it'd be possible.

At 4:00 a.m., directing night rehearsals on Avenue d'léna,

even I thought, “lt's okay now. It's dark. No one knows what's going on.

But later, by the Arc de Triomphe, and on the empty Place Charles de Gaulle,

will it be possible?” And it was.

You had the Champs-Elysées and Arc de Triomphe to yourself,

with police protection so you wouldn't be disturbed.

That was quite a luxury. - Yes, it was.

Speaking of luxury, your films up to now haven't cost much,

though producers always think films are too expensive.

But, as Simone Signoret put it so well,

you're a craftsman, even when working on “a big deal.”

For the first time, you've got a big budget, around a billion francs.

Yes, 900 million.

Almost enough for a short version of an action film like The Brain!

What was it like having all that money?

I didn't even notice.

It doesn't bother me because I don't realize it.

I make films the same way I always have.

It's true that the concept requires a large budget.

I knew that before writing the script

based on Joseph Kessel's book.

But I don't feel constrained because of the film's cost.

I work exactly as if I were in my little studio on rue Jenner,

the same way I made my previous films.

That's something that will always make your enemies green with envy:

You'll always be penniless but still live like a millionaire.

Just about.

This film has a star-studded cast. Can you refresh our memory?

Of course.

Paul Meurisse, Simone Signoret, Lino Ventura, Jean-Pierre Cassel,

Paul Crauchet, Christian Barbier, Claude Mann, Serge Reggiani, etc.

I believe some of them are waiting now.

Gentlemen, you are Jean-Pierre Melville's guests,

but you're still allowed to say what you think of him.

Jean-Pierre Cassel,

Paul Meurisse,

Paul Crauchet.

Paul Meurisse, what do you really think of Jean-Pierre Melville?

It seems silly for me to talk about Jean-Pierre Melville

when he does it so well himself.

It's difficult to talk about someone who's a friend,

because it's a delicate matter.

I'd rather talk about him simply as a director,

and the relationship between an actor and a director,

which can sometimes be difficult.

It isn't because we're friends.

It's simply because he likes actors

with whom the actor-director relationship is a good one.

It's very important for a director to appreciate actors.

He doesn't have to love them - even though Melville does -

but he can't have contempt for them.

I think he's one of the few directors who doesn't treat actors with contempt,

because he doesn't envy them.

That's a nice pat on the back, Paul Meurisse.

It's the simple truth.

Jean-Pierre Cassel?

Paul betrayed us! We had a little plot:

“Melville's not here. Let's say nasty things about him!”

But he was here just before us,

and it doesn't feel right now, even as a joke.

It's true. He's a real pleasure to work with.

Paul Crauchet?

It's difficult to speak after such brilliant colleagues!

I'm touched by things that are difficult to talk about in public,

which have to do with sensibility.

When working with Melville, we work with very sensitive emotions,

something that's increasingly denied to actors of my generation...

who get caught up in - How can I put it?

Overintellectualizing.

Professionally, as well as on a personal level,

I'm deeply touched by how deeply connected he is

to those around him.

Great introduction.

I think Mr. Melville can join us now.

I'd like to reply to Paul Meurisse, who lied as usual.

He said I wasn't envious of actors.

You don't know me very well. I'm extremely envious of you.

My greatest regret is that I wasn't an actor.

What I meant was

that when you're on the set, you're always acting.

That's true.

Everyone's acting. We're acting right now.

I'm playing the role of your guest on this show.

You're playing the host, right?

So everyone's playing a role,

some better than others.

In my opinion, the others aren't as good as me.

We're laughing and smiling. We won't comment on that.

Jean-Pierre Melville, did you hear

what these men said about you?

- Certainly. - Were you touched by their kindness?

Absolutely.

I've very glad Paul Crauchet said what he did,

because it's possible to be curt with people on a set

and have little contact with them.

Actually, on the set of the film I'm shooting now,

I don't have a close relationship with one actor, whom I won't name,

and it's unpleasant.

The end result is still the same,

but it's annoying and pointless.

It's much nicer being friends with Paul Crauchet and Cassel,

and at least trying to be friends with Paul Meurisse.

Do you ever accept actors' suggestions for their performance?

Certainly.

When you're directing actors, you must use their input.

You can't impose a totally subjective vision on an actor,

one that may be wrong for him.

You can't direct an actor if he doesn't meet you halfway.

Some actors - the very bad ones -

need you to do all the work for them.

But those are very bad actors.

Do actors sometimes overact?

Not in my films. It's not something they tend to do.

So Army of Shadows will be good?

I haven't the slightest idea.

I hope so, but I'm not quite sure how it will come out.

There were some difficult scenes.

I remember one night when Cassel, Crauchet and I

were completely exhausted.

I was determined to shoot in a certain location

because it reminded me

of Joseph Kessel.

It was at a bar called Le Cintra in Marseilles,

where I'd seen Joseph Kessel one day, sad and distraught,

just before he left for England.

I wanted to shoot in Le Cintra right where I'd seen Joseph Kessel.

Naturally, one of the first men I wanted to see upon arriving in England

was General de Gaulle.

He received me very warmly.

He asked me what I wanted to do.

I told him...

I'd like to work for one of the various services,

and he raised the objections I mentioned earlier.

He said, “What you should do, since you were involved with the Resistance,

the true strength of the French nation, is write a book about it.”

I left...

quite opposed to the idea,

because writing about people who are fighting

while you yourself are in relative safety

is always, I think, a sensitive matter.

But after a few weeks,

I realized I was completely useless

from a military standpoint.

I'd been placed in the air force at a desk job.

I didn't have much to do.

When I started spending time with the French in London,

especially those involved in the Resistance,

I realized that perhaps the best thing I could do

was to write about what was happening in France.

Honestly, I'd never been so afraid

of starting a book,

precisely because of the feelings

I just mentioned.

In retrospect, I see no one makes literature out of it,

but I really tried to steer clear of any literary tone.

Resistance movements exist throughout the world,

but the French Resistance was the one I knew.

It was my country, and it seemed sacred to me.

Normally, we're forced to go to war.

Even if we go willingly,

we're supported by an entire country,

by popular enthusiasm,

and the whole framework of an army.

But in this case, all the Resistance fighters had to choose for themselves,

and it was a difficult choice to make.

You had to renounce your personal safety,

and also that of your family, renounce everything in life,

everything that makes life worth living.

In approaching these people to describe them,

I really had qualms about it, which is normal,

but it held me back for a long time.

But then I began meeting people like Colonel Remy.

I saw Emmanuel D'Astier again, when he took the terrible risk

of traveling between England and France.

I met Colonel Rémy,

Médéric, and Brossolette.

Gradually, through hearing their stories

and through my access to the documents of the BCRA...

I slowly fell under the spell...

of the secrecy, the networks, the Resistance groups.

From this arose the desire and the urgency,

which I believe is absolutely necessary for a writer

if he wants to write something worthwhile.

In Army of Shadows, there's another character -

I can't say “actor,” although he plays a very special role.

It's Mr. Andre' Dewavrin,

who became famous under the name of “Colonel Passy”

and who had a very important role in the Resistance

on which the book is based.

Jean-Pierre, I believe you're not the only one who is touched

that he accepted to join us tonight.

Colonel Passy, Mr. Dewavrin,

you agreed to play yourself in Jean-Pierre Melville's film.

I can easily imagine how it came about,

because I know Jean-Pierre could talk the Eiffel Tower

into standing in for the Arc de Triomphe,

but please tell us how you agreed

to become an actor

for what I assure you is a very good cause.

In reality, I fell right into his trap.

We'd met one day and he'd asked me

to have a look at the set design,

because he wanted my London office to be as authentic as possible.

His assistant called one morning to ask me to come see the set

to make sure it was authentic.

We agreed to meet at 5:00 p.m., and when I arrived at the Boulogne studios,

Mr. Melville showed me the set.

I pointed out some things to correct, and we left the set.

Then he said, “I have a favor to ask. I hope you'll agree.

I'd like you to play yourself in Army of Shadows. ”

First, Jean-Pierre is a friend,

and secondly, I was glad he was making a film of Kessel's book,

a mutual friend of ours, so I agreed.

That's how I made my acting debut, which I hope won't be too bad.

Did you change your lines at all?

Yes. When I got the script,

I had dialogue,

or rather, the character I was playing had dialogue

that didn't match what I'd have said in London at that time.

I said I'd like to change the lines. He said, “Do as you like.”

I ended up with lines in French and English quite similar to what I'd have said.

I should mention, Mr. Dewavrin, that you're a tough audience.

When Hollywood movies try to recreate France,

we say, “Hey, Gauloises cigarettes didn't cost that much that year.”

It's the same for you. We were talking the other day -

and Jean-Pierre will kill me for bringing this up -

about using cyanide to commit suicide if captured by the Germans.

You said, “No, we didn't use cyanide in 1943,” and you explained why.

We used cyanide in the beginning, until around 1942,

at which point we realized

that people who had to use it suffered terribly.

It was much slower than we thought, and horribly painful.

Plus, if they were treated quickly, it might not even be lethal.

Therefore, the English found a much more virulent poison,

a pill small enough to be hidden in the mounting of a ring.

It killed instantly. You dropped dead in two seconds.

I was able to experience its strength firsthand,

not by taking it but by transporting it in my ring when I came to France.

I just rubbed my eyes after washing my hands,

and my eyes swelled up like a frog's within three minutes.

How long have you known each other?

I met Colonel Passy at the home of our mutual friend Paul Meurisse.

I'll never forget: The colonel sat on the floor.

There were little tables,

and I was sitting with some film people like Verneuil.

And you sat on the floor.

- What year was that? - Five or six years ago.

You went to London in 1943, while Colonel Passy was there.

What did Colonel Passy represent for you before you met him?

In 1942-43, Colonel Passy was already

a living legend in France.

When my companions-in-arms arrived, parachuting into England -

one was named Riblet, and another was Philippe Vallin -

they all asked the same question: “What does Colonel Passy look like?”

There were no pictures of him.

That's not something to leave lying around!

We'd seen pictures of General de Gaulle, but not Colonel Passy.

People said, “He's handsome, young, blond, blue-eyed, etc.”

And that's how we formed an idea of what he was like.

- He was a real person. - But I didn't know him then.

I did know his lieutenant very well, Pierre Brossolette.

He was your liaison.

On August 11, 1943,

I spent the entire day in London with Pierre Brossolette.

We walked from the Duke Street offices of the BCRA

all the way to Victoria Station,

where he took a train to catch the ship to Algiers.

Besides Colonel Passy,

Pierre Brossolette was the only man who knew everything

about the Resistance network.

I'd like to say something about that.

When I met Colonel Passy, I asked, “Don't you think Mission Arquebuse,

which you and Brossolette carried out, was a big risk for the Resistance?

The only two men who knew everything about the Resistance

parachuted into France together and stayed together.

You moved through Paris,

meeting contacts who were dependable, of course.

They weren't traitors, but still, someone might have talked.

What if you'd both been arrested?”

Colonel Passy immediately replied, “Brossolette was arrested.

As far as I know, he didn't talk.”

I realized I didn't have to ask Colonel Passy if he'd have talked,

because it was obvious he wouldn't have.

Pierre Brossolette's memory is, of course, deeply honored,

especially here among us.

I'd like to ask Colonel Passy:

If such a virulent poison existed, why didn't Brossolette use it?

Why did he choose an even more horrible death?

That was a subject Brossolette and I often discussed back then.

Despite what Jean-Pierre said,

I'd never have dared go on a mission in France without loads of poison.

I had poison in my ring, my tie, my pocket, everywhere.

However, Brossolette believed, because he'd been arrested before,

that there was always a way out,

and if you had poison at hand, you'd be tempted to use it too soon.

That's why he absolutely refused to carry poison.

When he was arrested, and recognized, quite by accident,

two days later he was forced, probably to avoid talking,

to throw himself out a fifth-story window.

I'd like to know how you manage to lead a normal life

with everything you've experienced -

all the great, tragic, beautiful, and horrible memories.

I've blocked out a lot of those memories, and I try to keep it that way.

I don't like going to war veteran's meetings and things like that.

Usually, I try not to talk about it. It was an extremely dramatic period.

Some of my best friends were killed, Brossolette and many others.

Half of the BCRA's operatives died in combat,

so it's not something I enjoy remembering.

How do I live with that? I try to forget. I discuss it as little as possible.

And when I must discuss it,

I use as much humor as I can,

because after all, without humor, we're lost.

Jean-Pierre Melville, do you feel the same?

After all, during the Occupation,

you had a hard life too, with nothing to be glad about.

I don't agree.

For me, personally,

as I said earlier, my memories of the Occupation aren't only tragic ones.

What mattered during the Occupation

was the way the lives of the French changed.