Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959)

 

Floating Weeds (Ukigusa) 1959

 

Eyes Without a Face (Les yeux sans visage) 1959

 

Breathless (1959)

 

Ben-Hur (1959)

 

Anatomy of a Murder (1959)

 

The Hole (Le Trou) 1959 **1/2

Underappreciated French director Jacques Becker died just a few weeks after filming was completed on Le Trou (The Hole). Becker is primarily known for working as an assistant director to Jean Renoir on such films as Boudu Saved from Drowning (1932), Grand Illusion (1937) and The Rules of the Game (1939), but he was a gifted director in his own right, helming such films as Casque d’or (1952) and Touchez Pas au Grisbi (1954). In a way it is fitting that his last film was about a would-be prison escape, as he himself never fully recovered his health after being imprisoned for a year by the Germans during the Occupation.

Le Trou tells the true story of the 1947 attempted escape of La Santé Prison by five prisoners. Becker and author Jose Giovanni based the screenplay on Giovanni’s book of the same name.  The cast was comprised mostly of non-professional actors—one (Jack Keraudy) of whom was one of the actual men who tried to escape in 1947—which adds an element of authenticity to an already realistic depiction of the inner-workings of prison life. Becker’s austere and unflinching style is only enhanced by the lack of music and editing in the film.

When Gaspard’s (Marc Michel) cellblock undergoes renovations he is reassigned to a cell with four other men. This couldn’t come at a worse time for these men, as they are about to embark on an arduous task: digging a hole out of La Santé Prison. Without a doubt the most badass of them all is Roland (Keraudy)—he’s smart and he knows how to break out of prisons—he is the ringleader.  Geo (Michel Constantin), Manu (Philippe Leroy), and Monseigneur (Raymond Meunier)  are his trusted co-conspirators. The men are apprehensive about telling Gaspard about their plan, but they have no choice as their window of opportunity is closing, and so they enlist him in their daring endeavor. From this point on it becomes a waiting game to see if they escape or if Gaspard can be truly trusted.

What makes Le Trou so special is the painstaking effort that Becker and cinematographer Ghislain Cloquet take to capture the various stages of the escape plan.  Because most of the scenes take place in tight quarters (a cramped cell and underground tunnels), there is a claustrophobic feel to the movie.  Becker employs extreme close-ups and tight-framing, and exceedingly long takes with sparse editing.  For example, when the men first break through the cell floor, Becker chose to film it in real time. The resulting shot is four-minute continuous take of the men using a makeshift tool to break open the floor. Later, when Roland has to file through bars, Becker returns to this technique again.  What this creates for the viewer is a sense of authenticity and personal involvement in the planned escape. 

For some, the slow (but realistic) manner in which Becker chose to film Le Trou can be off-putting—and some might even say boring.  For me, I think it creates an air of suspense and realism which most prison escape movies seem to lack.  What stands out most to me, however, is that what I most remember about Le Trou is not the acting, but the time and labor consuming project the prisoners endure. Here, the goal is more important than any one individual.  This is a very French theme; and, one which can be disconcerting to American audiences. Nonetheless, Le Trou is now regarded by many critics to be one of the best French films ever made.  I don’t know if I can venture that far in my appreciation, but I still find it to be a gritty, realistic depiction of what it takes to escape from prison.

Black Orpheus (Orfeu Negro) 1959 **

French director Marcel Camus had a novel idea about a retelling of the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice: stage it in Rio de Janeiro during Carnival and use an all-black cast.  It was a risky proposition, especially when you consider that it was filmed primarily on location with streets full of people, but it worked out spectacularly. Black Orpheus (Orfeu Negro, 1959) went on to win the Palme d’Or at the 1959 Cannes Film Festival and the 1960 Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film.

Our hero, Orfeu (Breno Mello), is an engaged and handsome Rio trolley driver. His fiancee, Mira (Lourdes de Oliveira), is a beautiful but jealous woman with anger issues. When an innocent, country girl, Eurydice (Marpessa Dawn), comes to the city to escape from a man who is trying to kill her, she catches Orfeu’s eye and Mira’s ire. It is a tragic love story shot in a beautiful, vibrant location, with an  outstanding soundtrack full of samba music.

From the opening scene of the film, where white Greek statues transform into rhythmically inclined black men, Camus shatters any preconceived notions the viewer might have about this being another traditional film about the Greek legend. That’s not to say that the story is totally stripped of its tradition, as many of the characters are named after those in the original story.  Of course, there is Orfeu (Orpheus) and Eurydice, but there are other Greek references, such as Hermes (Alexandro Constantino), who is always ready with directions, and a janitor who serves as Charon, ferryman of Hades. In addition, there is a dog that represents the three-headed dog of Hades, Cerberus, who guards the dead at the morgue (Hades).

Though told in a modern way, with more colorful characters and music, the story is the same. Eurydice is a woman running away from death, and when it comes, the man who loves her wants to bring her back at any cost. Camus and his costume department benefit greatly from the Carnival setting, as clothes can be used both symbolically and stylistically. For example, the man who has come to kill Eurydice is dressed in a creepy skeleton costume. This works, of course, because costumes are a part of Carnival. And the theme of life and death that goes along with Carnival is stressed in a convincing way.  No one would find it strange that Death (dressed in a skeleton costume) would wield a knife at a Carnival celebration.

In addition, the theme of Fate is paramount in this film. As most know, the Fates (according to Greek mythology) decide how long one lives—when it is time to die, no one can outrun their destiny.  It was fated that Orfeu would meet Eurydice and fall in love. It was also fate that no matter how fast Eurydice ran from death, either from the creepy skeleton or the jealous Mira, eventually the time would come for her to die—even at the accidental hands of the man who loved her.

I suppose a lot of people prefer the happier elements of the film, when the young couple fall in love and there is a lot of dancing and singing. I , myself, enjoy Orfeu’s descent into the underworld. When he calls to Eurydice through song and a voodoo ritual, and she appears in the form of an old woman and begs him not to look at her before they reach  the upper world, it is heartbreaking—especially when he looks at her and her spirit disappears forever. Watching Orfeu carry his beloved’s body back to his burning house is an eerie experience as well.

Quite simply, it is a heartbreaking tale of lost love.  There is a smoldering quality to the passionate love affair between Orfeu and Eurydice. And the foreboding nature of the samba drums is at times unbearable. Anyone familiar with the Greek legend knows what the outcome will be, but that doesn’t make it any less brutal when it does come. For a primarily unknown and untrained cast, the acting is rather good, especially Marpessa Dawn as Eurydice. Overall, a visually stunning film and a story that absolutely rips your heart out—and then watches it beat in rhythm to the pulsating drums of its soundtrack.