What Was The Last Movie You Watched?

[Fading Fast]

Le Deuxième Souffle (Second Wind) from 1966, a French film


It might be 1966, but Le Deuxième Souffle is closer to classic film noir than neo noir, with its prison break, hideouts, heist, criminal code of honor, and intrepid detective all riding comfortably in the genre's well-worn grooves.

Director Jean-Pierre Melville didn't serve up a tired offering, though; instead, he delivered another engaging take on noir's paradigmatic elements and themes. Shooting in noir's traditional black and white only reinforces his movie's classic feel.

At the opening, Gu – a well-respected underworld figure because he never rats – escapes from prison and returns to Paris to see his sister, Manouche, and his long-time trusted friend, Alban. In true noir fashion, Gu returns on a night when Manouche's restaurant becomes the site of a gangland hit.

At first, it's confusing to keep the competing gangs, the bad guys, and even the cops (who compete for jurisdiction with each other) straight, but it's easy enough to follow at a high level, while taking in the incredible atmosphere and style.

It's all about Gu, played by noted French actor Lino Ventura. His plan – and the movie's main plot – is to pull one last heist so he has money to get out of France and live somewhere without being hunted.

While trying to do this, he's tracked by police commissioner Blot, another example of that wonderful cinematic creation: the French detective who is smart, dedicated, and persistent, almost to the point of obsession, in his pursuit of someone like Gu.

The movie now follows Gu as he joins a heist team, executes the heist, hides the stolen platinum, and hides himself until he can get his share in cash before Manouche and Alban smuggle him out of the country to that perennial noir nirvana: somewhere else.

This is all old hat for the genre, but Melville makes it gripping by creating an engaging French noir atmosphere: a world of gangster honor codes and compelling characters in Gu, Blot, Manouche, Alban, and a few others.

Gu is not a good man by any normal standard. He is a crook who kills cops and others to get what he wants, but he is also a man who lives by an honor code in his world, which allows us to respect him knowing it's all a cinematic creation. We want the Gus in real life put in jail.

Blot is interesting on screen, but he violates so many legal rights of suspects that, in real life, we want the Blots of the world in jail, too: There's no justice if cops can ignore the law. Alban and Manouche are also people we enjoy on screen, but know in real life they belong in jail.

Like the characters, Melville's world is wonderfully noir, wonderfully artificial, and wonderfully engaging. His crooks have all these "rules" they live by, even dispensing "justice" in their own way. This is the crazy parallel criminal world that made The Godfather so compelling.

Despite being 1966, Melville's style is classic noir with his signature stamp. Shot in black and white, gangsters dress in dark suits and ties, cops in somewhat less drab suits and ties, and almost everyone wears a hat. Visually, it's still the 1940s in Le Deuxième Souffle.

Melville weaves the mundane into his story without making it boring. While hiding from the police, Gu, trying to do a lot in a short time, somewhat disguises himself and rides so many public buses it’s practically an advertisement for France’s transit system.

The action is here too, though – sniper shots taking out motorcycle cops, a few gun battles in small rooms, more than one rubout, and several chases – but Melville goes out of his way to remind viewers that even criminals have plenty of mundane downtime.

The climax is less about legal right and wrong and more about an unwritten code of honor not only between the crooks, but between the cops and the crooks when it's a crook "with integrity" like Gu. Look for Blot's final gesture of respect to Gu - it's subtle but beautifully done.

Le Deuxième Souffle is a classic noir released years after classic noirs had all but stopped being made. In Melville's noirish world, crooks live in an alternate universe that happens to intersect with the law-abiding world only when the crooks need something from it.

Otherwise, his characters go about their insane lives – running corrupt businesses, fighting and killing mainly each other, and playing an endless game of cat and mouse with the police – almost removed from real planet earth.

It's this "alternative universe" that makes Melville's noir so visually and emotionally appealing. It allows the viewer to have a sort of corrupt mental rumspringa from the safety of his living room. Life here is cool – even honorable in its warped way – and not hemmed in by law or convention.

Few would want to live in that world, but fantasizing about it is undeniably fun. Film noir, considered a darkish hellscape – as it often is – is made into an oddly set-apart and engaging universe in Melville's interpretation of the classic genre.

Le Deuxième Souffle is a classic film noir with a French twist. It’s a strong film with a compelling plot, but its special ingredients are its noir themes, characters, and style, which – crafted for cinematic effect rather than to reflect reality – have secured its place as a hallmark of French noir.

 

[rhenry]

View attachment 658948
Le Deuxième Souffle (Second Wind) from 1966, a French film


It might be 1966, but Le Deuxième Souffle is closer to classic film noir than neo noir, with its prison break, hideouts, heist, criminal code of honor, and intrepid detective all riding comfortably in the genre's well-worn grooves.

Director Jean-Pierre Melville didn't serve up a tired offering, though; instead, he delivered another engaging take on noir's paradigmatic elements and themes. Shooting in noir's traditional black and white only reinforces his movie's classic feel.

At the opening, Gu – a well-respected underworld figure because he never rats – escapes from prison and returns to Paris to see his sister, Manouche, and his long-time trusted friend, Alban. In true noir fashion, Gu returns on a night when Manouche's restaurant becomes the site of a gangland hit.

At first, it's confusing to keep the competing gangs, the bad guys, and even the cops (who compete for jurisdiction with each other) straight, but it's easy enough to follow at a high level, while taking in the incredible atmosphere and style.

It's all about Gu, played by noted French actor Lino Ventura. His plan – and the movie's main plot – is to pull one last heist so he has money to get out of France and live somewhere without being hunted.

While trying to do this, he's tracked by police commissioner Blot, another example of that wonderful cinematic creation: the French detective who is smart, dedicated, and persistent, almost to the point of obsession, in his pursuit of someone like Gu.

The movie now follows Gu as he joins a heist team, executes the heist, hides the stolen platinum, and hides himself until he can get his share in cash before Manouche and Alban smuggle him out of the country to that perennial noir nirvana: somewhere else.

This is all old hat for the genre, but Melville makes it gripping by creating an engaging French noir atmosphere: a world of gangster honor codes and compelling characters in Gu, Blot, Manouche, Alban, and a few others.

Gu is not a good man by any normal standard. He is a crook who kills cops and others to get what he wants, but he is also a man who lives by an honor code in his world, which allows us to respect him knowing it's all a cinematic creation. We want the Gus in real life put in jail.

Blot is interesting on screen, but he violates so many legal rights of suspects that, in real life, we want the Blots of the world in jail, too: There's no justice if cops can ignore the law. Alban and Manouche are also people we enjoy on screen, but know in real life they belong in jail.

Like the characters, Melville's world is wonderfully noir, wonderfully artificial, and wonderfully engaging. His crooks have all these "rules" they live by, even dispensing "justice" in their own way. This is the crazy parallel criminal world that made The Godfather so compelling.

Despite being 1966, Melville's style is classic noir with his signature stamp. Shot in black and white, gangsters dress in dark suits and ties, cops in somewhat less drab suits and ties, and almost everyone wears a hat. Visually, it's still the 1940s in Le Deuxième Souffle.

Melville weaves the mundane into his story without making it boring. While hiding from the police, Gu, trying to do a lot in a short time, somewhat disguises himself and rides so many public buses it’s practically an advertisement for France’s transit system.

The action is here too, though – sniper shots taking out motorcycle cops, a few gun battles in small rooms, more than one rubout, and several chases – but Melville goes out of his way to remind viewers that even criminals have plenty of mundane downtime.

The climax is less about legal right and wrong and more about an unwritten code of honor not only between the crooks, but between the cops and the crooks when it's a crook "with integrity" like Gu. Look for Blot's final gesture of respect to Gu - it's subtle but beautifully done.

Le Deuxième Souffle is a classic noir released years after classic noirs had all but stopped being made. In Melville's noirish world, crooks live in an alternate universe that happens to intersect with the law-abiding world only when the crooks need something from it.

Otherwise, his characters go about their insane lives – running corrupt businesses, fighting and killing mainly each other, and playing an endless game of cat and mouse with the police – almost removed from real planet earth.

It's this "alternative universe" that makes Melville's noir so visually and emotionally appealing. It allows the viewer to have a sort of corrupt mental rumspringa from the safety of his living room. Life here is cool – even honorable in its warped way – and not hemmed in by law or convention.

Few would want to live in that world, but fantasizing about it is undeniably fun. Film noir, considered a darkish hellscape – as it often is – is made into an oddly set-apart and engaging universe in Melville's interpretation of the classic genre.

Le Deuxième Souffle is a classic film noir with a French twist. It’s a strong film with a compelling plot, but its special ingredients are its noir themes, characters, and style, which – crafted for cinematic effect rather than to reflect reality – have secured its place as a hallmark of French noir.

View attachment 658950

Great Review!

 

[AeroFan_07]

B29-Frozen in Time

If you like resourcefulness, WWII planes, and living as far out on the edge as a group of men could do, this is a documentary for you. This was done by Nova, a PBS subsidiary. It is well narrated, and gives a lot of detail as to the challenges faced by such an expedition in northern Greenland.

I don't want to give away too much, it's only ~ 56 minutes, it's well worth a watch for sure.

 

[Fading Fast]

Champion from 1949 with Kirk Douglas, Ruth Roman, Arthur Kennedy, Paul Stewart and Marilyn Maxwell


In the middle of the twentieth century – hard as it may be to believe today – boxing and horse racing were major sports in America. Both were deeply woven into the country's cultural fabric: Grandmothers bet on "the ponies," and "Friday Night Fights" on TV was a cultural touchstone.

The early "indie" movie Champion capitalized on that popularity while also making Kirk Douglas a star. This "sports-themed" noir has lost little of its power to hold your attention, even if its message is the evergreen but banal one that some sports heroes are selfish ingrates.

It opens with two brothers, played by Douglas and Arthur Kennedy, broke and on the road to California. Kennedy, who has a limp from WWII, is the older, calmer brother, while Douglas is the "I'm tired of being poor, kicked around, and disrespected" brother.

After Douglas is forced into a shotgun marriage with a woman, played by Ruth Roman, whom he canoodled, he skips town on her with Kennedy in tow. Douglas then begins boxing and starts climbing the grubby ladder of corruption that dominated the fight game back then.

It's by-the-book stuff now: Douglas wins fights, makes money, and "dates" a blonde gold digger, played by Marilyn Maxwell. Harsh reality hits, though, when his manager, played by Paul Stewart, tells Douglas that the mob that runs boxing demands that Douglas takes a dive in a title fight.

Stewart, a good guy and old pro at the game, is so calmly matter of fact about it to Douglas that its implication almost slides by unnoticed. But then you realize that he's saying a top sport in America is run by organized crime and that many fights are fixed.

That's tough stuff for 1949 America and Douglas to hear. Douglas wants to win and be champion, not take a dive and get his shot later "when it's his turn." A lot more happens in the movie, but nothing unwinds the fact that boxing, popular as it is, is corrupt.

In the movie's money sequence that follows, Douglas turns the tables on the powers that be – but at a big price. After that, Douglas continues to "make deals" for his career, his bankbook, and his "girlfriend," which sells out a lot of people who supported him.

It is a tangle of mob corruption, contracts being written and rewritten, crooked deals being cut, sex being had, expensive things and women being bought and sold, and friendships and families being bent or jettisoned as powerful people jockey for advantage.

Those are all classic noir themes that come up time and again in sports- and non-sports-themed film noirs. The late 1940s marked the peak of noir, revealing an America surprisingly willing to confront, or at least witness, the seedy underbelly of its post-war culture.

Here it's the old story of money, greed and power, combined with talent and ego, leading to a moral mess. With the Motion Picture Production Code still in control, there's a "reckoning" of sorts, but the points about the corruption of boxing and of the soul are still standing when the credits roll.

All this works as a movie because it's stripped of pretense – and because Kirk Douglas was tailor made for the part: You still kinda like him even when he's a rat. He'd play that role many times – Ace in the Hole and The Bad and the Beautiful being just two other examples.

Kennedy, one of those incredibly talented supporting actors, is excellent as Douglas' foil and, sometimes, conscience. Stewart, too, as the wearily honest manager trying to navigate a venal sport is outstanding at quietly conveying the complex emotions life has forced upon him.

Roman, who should have had more screen time, is sexy-smart playing Douglas' morally conflicted wife who knows Douglas isn't a good man or good for her, but the heart and (and she makes this viscerally obvious) libido want what the heart and libido want.

Filmed in black and white and on a tight budget, the fight scenes have a rawness that is impressive for the day. There is no Hollywood shine here, as the sport looks brutally violent in an uncivilized throwback way. Kudos to Douglas here, too, as he truly got into shape for the role.

If Champion has a flaw, it's that there's no moral center, no hero, no hopeful commentary on human nature. It's just a noir world of moral compromise all down the line. It's good; it's entertaining; it's well acted; but it will leave you feeling a bit soulless and exhausted.

 

[rhenry]

View attachment 660126
Champion from 1949 with Kirk Douglas, Ruth Roman, Arthur Kennedy, Paul Stewart and Marilyn Maxwell


In the middle of the twentieth century – hard as it may be to believe today – boxing and horse racing were major sports in America. Both were deeply woven into the country's cultural fabric: Grandmothers bet on "the ponies," and "Friday Night Fights" on TV was a cultural touchstone.

The early "indie" movie Champion capitalized on that popularity while also making Kirk Douglas a star. This "sports-themed" noir has lost little of its power to hold your attention, even if its message is the evergreen but banal one that some sports heroes are selfish ingrates.

It opens with two brothers, played by Douglas and Arthur Kennedy, broke and on the road to California. Kennedy, who has a limp from WWII, is the older, calmer brother, while Douglas is the "I'm tired of being poor, kicked around, and disrespected" brother.

After Douglas is forced into a shotgun marriage with a woman, played by Ruth Roman, whom he canoodled, he skips town on her with Kennedy in tow. Douglas then begins boxing and starts climbing the grubby ladder of corruption that dominated the fight game back then.

It's by-the-book stuff now: Douglas wins fights, makes money, and "dates" a blonde gold digger, played by Marilyn Maxwell. Harsh reality hits, though, when his manager, played by Paul Stewart, tells Douglas that the mob that runs boxing demands that Douglas takes a dive in a title fight.

Stewart, a good guy and old pro at the game, is so calmly matter of fact about it to Douglas that its implication almost slides by unnoticed. But then you realize that he's saying a top sport in America is run by organized crime and that many fights are fixed.

That's tough stuff for 1949 America and Douglas to hear. Douglas wants to win and be champion, not take a dive and get his shot later "when it's his turn." A lot more happens in the movie, but nothing unwinds the fact that boxing, popular as it is, is corrupt.

In the movie's money sequence that follows, Douglas turns the tables on the powers that be – but at a big price. After that, Douglas continues to "make deals" for his career, his bankbook, and his "girlfriend," which sells out a lot of people who supported him.

It is a tangle of mob corruption, contracts being written and rewritten, crooked deals being cut, sex being had, expensive things and women being bought and sold, and friendships and families being bent or jettisoned as powerful people jockey for advantage.

Those are all classic noir themes that come up time and again in sports- and non-sports-themed film noirs. The late 1940s marked the peak of noir, revealing an America surprisingly willing to confront, or at least witness, the seedy underbelly of its post-war culture.

Here it's the old story of money, greed and power, combined with talent and ego, leading to a moral mess. With the Motion Picture Production Code still in control, there's a "reckoning" of sorts, but the points about the corruption of boxing and of the soul are still standing when the credits roll.

All this works as a movie because it's stripped of pretense – and because Kirk Douglas was tailor made for the part: You still kinda like him even when he's a rat. He'd play that role many times – Ace in the Hole and The Bad and the Beautiful being just two other examples.

Kennedy, one of those incredibly talented supporting actors, is excellent as Douglas' foil and, sometimes, conscience. Stewart, too, as the wearily honest manager trying to navigate a venal sport is outstanding at quietly conveying the complex emotions life has forced upon him.

Roman, who should have had more screen time, is sexy-smart playing Douglas' morally conflicted wife who knows Douglas isn't a good man or good for her, but the heart and (and she makes this viscerally obvious) libido want what the heart and libido want.

Filmed in black and white and on a tight budget, the fight scenes have a rawness that is impressive for the day. There is no Hollywood shine here, as the sport looks brutally violent in an uncivilized throwback way. Kudos to Douglas here, too, as he truly got into shape for the role.

If Champion has a flaw, it's that there's no moral center, no hero, no hopeful commentary on human nature. It's just a noir world of moral compromise all down the line. It's good; it's entertaining; it's well acted; but it will leave you feeling a bit soulless and exhausted.

View attachment 660127

To me, that last paragraph sums up the best of the noirs. Moral ambiguity is closer to reality than happy endings.

 

[Trenchfriend]

Das Boot - 1985 uncut TV series

 

[Fading Fast]

You Can't Buy Everything from 1934 with May Robson, William Bakewell, Jean Parker and Lewis Stone


While You Can't Buy Everything is loosely based on the life of Hetty Green, "The Witch of Wall Street" from the Gilded Age, Hollywood transforms her story into a veiled retelling of A Christmas Carol without the yuletide framing.

The real Hetty Green is still debated today, but she was miserly, charitable in ways, and amazingly successful on Wall Street, so much so that she had a seat at the table in 1907 when J.P. Morgan famously organized a "rescue" of the banks.

Balance and truth, though, are not what Hollywood is about, so in this Tinseltown telling, Green's name is changed, as are many details of her life, to create a "better" story. May Robson, thus, plays the "Witch of Wall Street" more like Scrooge than like a smart woman of finance.

Robson, for some reason, nurses a bitter grudge against one of the most important men on Wall Street, played by Lewis Stone. She is so resentful of him that she moves her vast sums of money out of the bank she uses when he is hired to be its president.

Robson became a businesswoman only after her husband wasted away almost all of her money before he died. Robinson, now a widow and single mom, accumulated massive amounts of money, stocks and bonds through shrewd trades and investments.

Despite her wealth, she lives like a miser – think Scrooge not heating his house in the dead of winter. She raises her son, played by William Bakewell, whom she loves deeply, to be equally miserly. Her plan is for him to become a banker and grow the family fortune.

Bakewell, though, is a nice young man with neither his mother's miserly ways nor her investment prowess. While working at a job he hates at the bank to please his mother, he meets and falls in love with the daughter, played by Jean Parker, of his mother's bête noire, Stone.

This sets up the climax, no spoilers coming, as the mother will be forced to choose between embracing her son's marriage and her new daughter-in-law – and, by proxy, forgiving the man she hates – or losing her son, the only person she loves in this world.

There's a neat but too-easy twist at the end that explains Robson's grudge against Stone, but the value of the story, like the value of A Christmas Carol, lies in the lesson of how greed destroys a soul, while love and charity nourish it.

In this black-and-white Hollywood telling, of course the story denounces greed and embraces love as it's one of Hollywood's favorite stories. But most people, in the real world, have to balance the need for some personal financial security with the wants of others.

Robson is very good as a Wall Street Scrooge as you feel that her anger and stinginess stem from some event in her life. Bakewell, in one of his stronger roles, is engaging as Robson's son and foil. He comes across as genuinely torn over his mother.

Lewis Stone, like Bakewell, proves to be an excellent foil to Robson as his sympathy toward her – even when she shows him nothing but bitterness – has an echo of Scrooge's nephew who feels sorry for and not angry at his curmudgeonly uncle.

A true biopic of Hetty Green, a woman who, whatever her faults, achieved equal status with the men on Wall Street at a time when finance truly was a boys club, could be a fascinating movie. Perhaps a modern-day moviemaker will take on the project.

For now, though, all we have is the reasonably enjoyable You Can't Buy Everything, which turned Hetty Green's life into a pat retelling of A Christmas Carol without the ghosts, chains, presents, and goose.

 

[rhenry]

As I've stated before, moral ambiguity defines the best of the noirs for me. A good example of that is Detour (1945) staring Tom Neal and Ann Savage. I just happened upon it last night on YouTube. I confess, Fading Fast's excellent review of Champion peaked my interest in noir again.

While Detour can hardly be described as a "great" film, it typifies the dark and moody character of the noir era films.

Detour involves a lounge singer and her pianist lover. She moves to Hollywood to try her luck in film. He follows but has to hitchhike due to a shortage of money.

Enroute, he's picked up by a somewhat shady character, a bookmaker, who ends up dying of natural causes on the road, but not before he tells the story of a "dame" he picked up in Louisiana that he tossed out on the road because she wouldn't "put out".

Moral dilemma #1: When the guy fell out of the car, dead, he struck his head on a rock making it appear he'd been murdered. After arguing with himself about what to do, our hero drags the dead guy into the weeds, takes his wallet and drives away in his car.

While driving to LA, he stops at a gas station to get water for his radiator. He picks up a female hitchhiker and they drive off together. As luck would have it, it turns out this is the very woman the driver picked up in Louisiana. She turns out to be a complete psychopath. She's able to dominate our hero thoroughly, taking the money he took off the body of the driver and trying to get him to sell the car. Our hero claims he doesn't want the money or the car.

Moral dilemma #2: In their motel suite, the woman says she's going to call the police and report him for murdering the bookmaker. She runs into the bedroom with the phone on a long cord. He attempts to stop her by pulling on the cord. It turns out the cord had gotten wrapped around her neck and he ended up inadvertently killing her.

Instead of reporting the incident to the police, our hero once again takes the easy way out and runs off.

In each case, the hero was faced with a no-win scenario in which doing the right thing might result in his execution. Given the facts know to the viewer, the question becomes how should we judge him?

 

[Fading Fast]

As I've stated before, moral ambiguity defines the best of the noirs for me. A good example of that is Detour (1945) staring Tom Neal and Ann Savage. I just happened upon it last night on YouTube. I confess, Fading Fast's excellent review of Champion peaked my interest in noir again.

While Detour can hardly be described as a "great" film, it typifies the dark and moody character of the noir era films.

Detour involves a lounge singer and her pianist lover. She moves to Hollywood to try her luck in film. He follows but has to hitchhike due to a shortage of money.

Enroute, he's picked up by a somewhat shady character, a bookmaker, who ends up dying of natural causes on the road, but not before he tells the story of a "dame" he picked up in Louisiana that he tossed out on the road because she wouldn't "put out".

Moral dilemma #1: When the guy fell out of the car, dead, he struck his head on a rock making it appear he'd been murdered. After arguing with himself about what to do, our hero drags the dead guy into the weeds, takes his wallet and drives away in his car.

While driving to LA, he stops at a gas station to get water for his radiator. He picks up a female hitchhiker and they drive off together. As luck would have it, it turns out this is the very woman the driver picked up in Louisiana. She turns out to be a complete psychopath. She's able to dominate our hero thoroughly, taking the money he took off the body of the driver and trying to get him to sell the car. Our hero claims he doesn't want the money or the car.

Moral dilemma #2: In their motel suite, the woman says she's going to call the police and report him for murdering the bookmaker. She runs into the bedroom with the phone on a long cord. He attempts to stop her by pulling on the cord. It turns out the cord had gotten wrapped around her neck and he ended up inadvertently killing her.

Instead of reporting the incident to the police, our hero once again takes the easy way out and runs off.

In each case, the hero was faced with a no-win scenario in which doing the right thing might result in his execution. Given the facts know to the viewer, the question becomes how should we judge him?

Outstanding review, rhenry – I loved reading it. I wrote about "Detour," which I only saw for the first time a few years ago, here: #28,367

To your last question, my take, and that is all it is, is that he's not a reliable narrator, but one building his own self-serving story as he goes. And my God, she's one scary woman.

 

[theeprimitivesound]

Last week i was on jury duty, so i made sure to watch, 12 Angry Men, to prepare myself.

 

[rhenry]

Outstanding review, rhenry – I loved reading it. I wrote about "Detour," which I only saw for the first time a few years ago, here: #28,367

To your last question, my take, and that is all it is, is that he's not a reliable narrator, but one building his own self-serving story as he goes. And my God, she's one scary woman.

Thanks for the kind words. I have to agree with your original review especially this statement: "And it took thirty-four years, but I have now found a woman who scares me more than Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction."