Many think writer Auguste Le Breton joined the
French Resistance out of opposition to Vichy’s gambling prohibition. He would
survive to become a French Elmore Leonard, known for his gritty action and
affinity for slang. As it happened, his source novel was too coarse for genteel
American blacklisted director Jules Dassin, who joined the Communist Party in
the mid-1930s, right around the time of the Great Purge and the Moscow Show
Trials. In order to lose the parts that offended his sensibilities, Dassin
expanded the heist scene into half an hour’s worth of wordless action. At one
time banned by several countries for its purported criminal instructional value,
Dassin’s French noir classic Rififi (trailer here) returns to New York
for a special one-week engagement starting this Wednesday at Film Forum.
Tony “le Stéphanois”
(from Saint-Étienne) is decidedly the worse for wear after his recent prison
stint. He willingly took the rap for Jo “le Suédois
(the Swede), whose son Tonio (Tony’s godson and namesake) he dotes on, but his
health and finances are in sad shape. To make matters worse, his ex-lover Mado took
up with his nemesis, gangster-night club owner Pierre Grutter. After explaining
his disappointment to her, Tony will commence planning his next and potentially
last big score.
Jo and their mutual crony Mario Ferrati
originally conceived of the jewelry store job as a simple smash-and-grab, but
Tony wants the prime cuts in the safe. Recruiting Italian safecracker César “le Milanais,” they methodically case the joint and craft their
elaborate timetable. The actual half-hour of heist operations is indeed a
masterwork of noir filmmaking. However, it somewhat unbalances the film. While
there is plenty of good hardboiled stuff in the third act, as the Grutter gang schemes
to appropriate the hot ice for themselves, but it necessarily lacks the same
hushed intensity of the celebrated centerpiece.
Regardless, Rififi (which very roughly translates as “trouble”) has long been
recognized as a noir classic for good reason. Like Le Breton’s books, it has a
street smart persona and a street level perspective. It captures the workaday
milieu of postwar Paris, especially during the odd hours of the day and night
when respectable folks were off the streets. Jean Servais also creates the
template for the older, world-weary noir mentor, dealing with the business end
of his bad karma. He slow burns like a crock pot with dangerously faulty
wiring. Just looking at his lined face makes you want to pop an Advil.
Carl Möhner
(probably next most often remembered for She
Devils of the SS, which is pretty much what it sounds like), is rather
under-heralded for his steady, proletarian work as Jo. However, Dassin himself
(billed as Perlo Vita) indulges in a bit of broad ethnic stereotyping, for
supposed comic effect, as César.
