Original subtitles

JEAN-PIERRE MELVILLE AND ARMY OF SHADOWS

In 1969, Jean-Pierre Melville is 52 years old.

Between two of the film hair in which he specializes,

reinterpreting the American detective film,

Melville tries his hand at a film about the Resistance.

Lino Ventura,

Paul Meurisse, Jean-Pierre Cassel,

and Simone Signoret are soldiers

in his Army of Shadows, based on Joseph Kessels novel.

A film about the Resistance,

a personal film, Army of Shadows is a triumph

by a filmmaker as unique as he is mysterious.

One day Melville called me, which quite surprised me, DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY

because I didn't know him well.

He was a gentleman from the older generation.

We arranged to meet outside the train station in a village called Tilly.

In the middle of the plaza in front of the station was a white Camaro.

I walked out of the train station,

and a man wearing a white Stetson

and sunglasses stepped out of the Camaro.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

It was really funny.

If Melville was always decked out in his extravagant cowboy hat, JOURNALIST AND FILMMAKER

it was a reference to America, to Texas,

and a way to stand out in a crowd, but also a way to hide his bald spot!

Melville hated the way he looked.

He hated his eyes.

He didn't like them.

When you'd visit him at home, he'd be wearing a cardigan, ACTO R

no sunglasses, with bags under his eyes.

He looked just like Droopy Dog!

He looked kind and generous.

He looked like a nice guy, and that wash? the look he wanted.

It's quite simple. When he arrives at the studio,

he's wearing his Stetson and sunglasses,

and a trench coat or a cape.

If the sunglasses come off, all is fine. If they go back on, it means trouble!

Sometimes Jean-Pierre was unbearable. EDITOR

Sometimes he'd want something right away,

and someone would say, “I can't do it now,”

and he'd say, “But I want it now!”

He cut short my career as an assistant director FILMMAKER

because he terrorized me.

And I wasn't even the designated whipping boy!

He was very quarrelsome,

with an unfortunate tendency to be nasty.

I was always on my guard for that reason.

Melville could be incredibly charming.

He was a storyteller, an insomniac

who'd drive you around Paris in his American car

until 4:00 a.m. because he couldn't sleep,

and you'd hang on his every word.

He shrank from the light of day.

He lived by night.

I always associate Melville with the night.

Jean-Pierre Melville's career

begins in 1947. At 30, he makes his first film,

Le silence de la mer,

with a rock-bottom budget and a cast of unknowns.

Film by film, Melville takes his place on the outskirts of traditional French cinema,

but that doesn't stop him from acquiring his own studio, like Chaplin,

and earning the admiration of future filmmakers of the French New Wave.

He was always surrounded by people

like Godard, who would come to the studio.

He liked being considered somewhat avant-garde.

He had his own studio,

so he was quite proud of what he'd achieved.

Having his own soundstage, his own editing room,

meant he was his own master,

even if it also meant being deeply in debt and living on next to nothing.

Flo, his wife, often told me

of the really tough years he went through.

There's always been a certain air of mystery around Melville.

How could an unknown,

someone completely outside the system,

suddenly be at the helm of a small studio?

For me, Melville represented every filmmaker's dream:

He lived above his own studio.

Melville was someone who “networked,” as we say today.

He had networks, and he loved to network.

His telephone was glued to his ear

to find out who said what, who did what, who was where yesterday,

and what was going to happen tomorrow.

He knew how to arouse people's interest,

how to communicate and create bonds quickly.

He had contacts in the police department and the Ministry of the Interior.

He knew war veterans, retired intelligence agents

and secret service agents.

He had strong ties with these people from his years in the war.

What organization are you with?

I don't understand.

You know the risk you're taking?

Being shot under a false name. Your fate would remain a mystery.

The film grows more powerful with each viewing.

I think it's one of Melville's masterpieces.

In Melville's assessment of his own films,

Army of Shadows was certainly one of his favorites.

I think he considered it

his most complete and ambitious film,

and even a sort of “statement”

as one says in English, a declaration...

of his values.

After Le silence de la mer in 1947

and Léon Morin, prétre in 1.960,

Melville, who took his name in honor of the American poet,

revisits the subject of the Occupation for the third time.

For this real-life Resistance fighter, the period is marked by nostalgia.

He states about his 11th feature film,

“It's a film I had to make and make now.

It's a piece of my memory, of my flesh.”

He put images from his past in it.

He paid homage to the great Resistance fighters:

Jean Moulin, de Gaulle,

and, of course, all those who were tortured.

His use of understated violence is quite brilliant.

The Catholic teacher died one night

without a sound, as usual.

Some Kabyles removed his body.

I never even heard his voice.

I saw nothing until the first edit.

He asked me to compose some themes,

and only told me

the bare minimum about the story.

He said, “lt's a film about the Resistance. It's not a war film.

It's a somewhat personal film,

so I'd like you to write a theme

that's serious, bare, without frills.”

That's all he said.

I'm not sad. Armel is better off this way.

The discrete tone of the music in Melville's films

is due mainly to the delicate way it is used.

It's also because

the musicians and composers who worked with him

almost always played with restraint, without romanticism.

Curiously, the music could almost be called “cold,” even though it isn't.

This is it.

We didn't want any color. We'd have preferred black and white.

An unusual thing about working with Melville was his love of cool tones,

of cyan, or blue-green.

He was absolutely right, because it's the only way to achieve skin tones

that are simple and realistic.

Resistance fighters can't have rosy cheeks.

People who are constantly in hiding mustn't appear tan.

They can't have that uniform yellowish-orange skin tone.

Is he the traitor we have to...?

Yes, that's him.

And you're the chief?

In that extraordinary scene with just the three of them

about to execute the boy who betrayed them...

it's all done with a few words, a piece of curtain,

the looks in their eyes.

With this character, he filmed a lot!

and did lots of takes of different reactions

so that he could later choose

the one that worked best for the scene,

the most natural, the most terrible, the most terrifying one.

Strangle him.

With our hands?

There's a towel in the kitchen.

When I'm editing and watching a shot,

each shot has its own rhythm.

I watch it and go,

“There... there... there... stop!” That's where I cut.

I swear it won't hurt.

The film is about the strength

of these very solitary characters.

Melville manages to capture

the solitude of those who dedicate their life to a cause.

"'8 you?

On the set where Garbler hides out for several months,

he said, “Mr. Lhomme, there's too much light on the bed.

I should just barely be able to make it out.”

I said...

“Jean-Pierre, there's almost no light on it. I can't go lower.”

He looked up at the lights and said, “Turn off that one.”

I said, “Let's at least do one take with it, one without.”

He said, “I can't refuse you that,” and we shot the scene.

When we screened the dailies the next day,

the take with the light was shown first - I don't remember why -

and he said, “See? I told you so.”

Then came the take without the light. You couldn't see the bed at all.

He took credit for the take with the light.

At that point, Lino Ventura stood up and said, “You really are a bastard.”

His authoritarian side sometimes caused serious conflict

with certain actors.

He and Lino Ventura didn't speak once during the film.

They didn't say a word to each other. Ventura hated him.

I heard that in Le deuxiéme souffle, when Ventura had to run after the train,

the famous scene where he grabs the guy's hand,

Melville was next to the engineer, leaning out,

and when he saw Lino get close, he'd tell the engineer, “Speed up,”

until Lino was exhausted.

But it's incredibly realistic,

because when Lino finally manages to grab the guy's hand,

he was ready to collapse.

He swore, “He'll never do that again!” He was furious.

He meant to trick him, and Lino saw that as a lack of confidence

and as unacceptable behavior.

Jean-Pierre created an extremely tense environment.

He didn't tell Lino, “We need to feel it!”

No, he kept him constantly enraged by always arriving late,

talking about him in front of everyone,

relaying his instructions through an assistant.

Melville would say to his assistant,

“Mr. Pellegrin, could you tell Mr. Ventura,”

when Ventura was standing three feet away,

“to enter the room and hang his hat on the hook.”

The assistant walked three feet over and repeated this,

and Ventura would say, “Ask Mr. Melville

if I should hang up my hat and coat or only my hat?”

Since Lino had good manners and could control himself,

he'd hold it all in, and when they'd shout, “Action!”

he was ready to explode.

He filled the screen with such fury and intensity!

It was in character, but he was really feeling it.

Stop that!

Dounat has to die. That's why you're here.

You wanted a tough job. You got it. Don't complain.

If Lino made a mistake, Melville would say, “Really, Mr. Ventura,”

in front of the whole crew!

I spent a day on the set and thought,

“How can you direct a film like that,

in that atmosphere? How awful!”

I remember Lino Ventura as being absolutely imperial.

But all the same, he suffered.

The results are incredible. Ventura is magnificent in the film,

and Melville's mise-en-scéne is magnificent.

He knew what made people tick.

For a while he was very nasty to me,

provoking me to see how I'd react.

My reaction

was very simple and direct. One day I said,

“Is it gonna be like this all the time? Let's have a good time!”

He looked at me and left.

From then on, he was really nice to me. He changed his tactics.

What he enjoyed most was arguing with the ones he loved,

just to “kiss and make up,” as he'd say.

He loved colorful phrases like that.

Intense friendships, intense breakups, lots of animosity and jealousy,

being vindictive and unfair.

And your husband? Does he know about your activities?

Certainly not.

Neither does my daughter.

That's her.

She's 17.

Don't carry it on you.

You're right. I'll get rid of it.

As for Signoret,

I think he already respected her enormously,

so he couldn't terrorize her like he could others, but he could charm her.

When Melville laid on the charm, it always worked.

He gave her a lot of space.

He talked to her a lot.

Simone really needed constant reassurance.

The day we shot the scene where I bring her the radio -

No problems?

No problems.

Shooting was scheduled for noon.

During makeup, Jean-Pierre said to me, “We're shooting with Simone today.

Did you notice? She's really, really scared,

but we'll let her work it out.

Anyway, there's no rush. We won't shoot until 4:00 p.m.

You'll see. While we're setting up the shot, she'll say,

'How about a little whiskey?”' And he was absolutely right!

He winked at me.

We had a little whiskey and started shooting at 4:00.

Tell Félix the transmitters need new crystals.

The wavelengths changed.

All right. Can I help you?

Certainly not.

As Ventura said, in his own inimitable terms,

“When you've got Signoret in front of you, she's no glass of skim milk, believe me!”

Meaning she was a true actress!

It was quite a colorful expression.

When shooting Signoret's death scene,

where she sees the killers, who are her friends,

she went to Jean-Pierre before the scene and asked,

“What do I do?”

He looked at her and said, “What do you mean?”

She asked, “Did she betray them or not?”

He answered as if she'd asked the strangest question.

“Why are you asking me? I don't know!

You know if you betrayed them or not.

It's your conscience. When they shoot you,

do you deserve it or not? I don't know. Show me.”

And then, “Action!”

What Simone does is incredible, because we don't know!

Go!

The scene is completely ambiguous.

Some swear, “She betrayed them,” while others fiercely disagree.

Melville's taste in film was very restricted,

characterized by a nearly exclusive adoration for American cinema.

You see references to Odds Against Tomorrow in every Melville film.

On the sound track of Army of Shadows,

when Signoret comes to Lyon to try to save Félix,

you keep hearing, “Clack, clack, boom, boom!”

That sound was 'm Odds Against Tomorrow...

which Jean-Pierre absolutely adored,

and in a way, we “stole” it

off the optical soundtrack on a projection print

to reproduce that sound he found so extraordinary.

You hear it a dozen times.

The filmmaker he most admired was William Wyler.

In Army of Shadows, it's obvious

that Melville is doing his utmost to imitate Wyler,

but he somehow never manages

to be Wyler - and thank goodness!

The long drawn-out scene of Ventura escaping is an example

of one Wyler would have cut much, much sooner,

but it's this expansion of time that gives the film

an incredibly original tone.

Melville's approach is almost as stylized as Bresson in A Man Escaped

“Possible connections.”

Use the carrot.

“Suspected of Gaullist sympathies.”

Use the stick.

“Released for lack of evidence.” Influence.

Melville's films can quickly morph into classical tragedy, which was his aim.

He transformed French heroes into heroes of Greek tragedy.

Here, with Kessel's contribution,

and the fact these characters are in the Resistance,

the tragic aspect is less emphasized.

It develops more naturally,

as much in Lino Ventura's character

as in the character played by Signoret, who is simply magnificent.

Melville absolutely revered “The Man Who Said No.”

De Gaulle portrayed in a film, in color! I don't think it'd ever been done before.

His face could have been shown a little longer,

but fortunately, we only get a glimpse of him.

It's very curious. There's a lack of conviction.

It's as if suddenly nothing was working -

the makeup, the resemblance, the voice -

and he thought, “Well, it's better than nothing.”

Actually, the film would be better without it.

It caused sniggers, criticism,

unkind remarks.

It's stupid, and Jean-Pierre thought it was dumb.

I saw it when it came out, and it made people laugh.

In a fictional film, even though this one isn't completely fictional,

you're not allowed to insert historical characters,

though Americans have always done it, and no one's complained.

To me, it seems that Melville was trying to borrow a device from American films.

They'd insert Abraham Lincoln in a film,

and the film took on instant historical credibility.

But it was one of the wrong notes in this film.

The film was released almost immediately after the events of May '68,

which was an entire generation's rejection of everything

about the preceding generation:

Gaullism, their values, their sense of virtue.

Because after all, that's what they hold dear, the glorification of virtue,

vitus, in the true Latin sense of the term.

Like many Resistance films back then, the word “Communist” was taboo.

Oddly enough, no one ever said the words “German-Soviet Pact,”

even though these characters were at a high level in the Resistance.

Perhaps such things weren't mentioned by the rank and file,

but these characters are leaders.

In Army of Shadows,

great respect is shown for Communism during the Resistance.

But Melville was an anti-Stalinist.

He was against the Leftist intellectuals in power at the time.

In terms of politics and unionizing, I was very active in '68.

He was well aware of that,

and that didn't stop him from hiring me,

but he insisted that I fire my cameraman.

He said, “He's the worst cameraman I've ever had.”

I said, “This guy is the best cameraman in France today.”

He claimed that besides not being good with the left crank,

Brun had sabotaged the scene of the German army's arrival.

Philippe Brun was a Communist and Melville was a Gaullist,

so he accused Brun of sabotaging the film due to his Communist beliefs.

He was really a right-wing anarchist.

He said, “I'm a windshield-wiper anarchist. Now Left, now Right.”

When Army of Shadows was first shown,

the German military parade was at the beginning.

He kept saying, “Maybe it's better at the end. No, the beginning.”

I moved it back and forth so often

from beginning to end,

that when you asked me just now,

I couldn't remember where it finally ended up!

I saw the film at a matinee the day it came out.

But Melville, after a few days, as he often did,

reedited the film right in the projection booth.

The day it was released, Melville called me.

“Sweetie, I've decided I want the parade at the beginning.”

We had to go to all six theaters where it was showing exclusively,

and I moved the entire German military parade

from the end to the beginning.

So some viewers saw the parade at the end

while others saw it at the beginning - on the very same day!