Le Samouraï (1967)

We are introduced with a quote from the “The Book of Bushido”, stating, “There is no solitude greater than a samurai's, unless perhaps it is that of a tiger in the jungle.'' We find ourselves in a spacious apartment room, sparsely furnished. The room is dark, but two large windows illuminate the space with the evaporating light of the sunset. The space at first seems uninhibited, but then we suddenly see a thick cloud of smoke slowly rise from a bed in the lower section of the frame. A man is smoking in bed. He gets up, puts on a trench coat and fedora, and walks outside onto a busy Paris street. He calmly hijacks a car, and pulls out a key ring consisting of what seems to be over one hundred keys. One by one, he methodically begins inserting keys into the ignition, finally finding one that works. He drives to a mechanic located in a remote location, who proceeds to change out the license plate. The unidentified man gets out of the car and holds out his hand. Is he offering a handshake? His stern look suggests otherwise. The mechanic opens a drawer and pulls out a gun and hands it to the man. The man gives the mechanic some cash and drives away, finally arriving at a woman’s apartment. As she is about the open the door, she says the man’s name—“Jef”. This is the first line of dialogue spoken in the film, occurring nearly ten minutes into the running time. What’s fascinating about these opening scenes is that we’ve learned everything we need to know about Jef, our protagonist, without even hearing a single word uttered. He is cold and methodical in his actions. He is a solitary man, choosing to live a life free from many possessions or much interaction. He is impeccably cool.

Jean-Pierre Melville’s excellent film Le Samouraï is well versed in cinema’s history and various genres, all while taking those conventions and paring them down to their essence all while adding a existentialist bent to the proceedings. Melville’s knowledge and love of past genres is always present, ranging from gangster films of the 30s, film noir of the 40s, samurai films of the 50s and even the French New Wave scene of the 60s. Even though these influences are always present, the film thankfully never feels like a rehash but instead creates its own character and style through Melville’s confident direction. There is hardly a wasted shot in this film, as we follow around hitman Jef Costello as he calmly, methodically goes about his day. We see him enter a nightclub and take out a hit on the owner in a back room. Unfortunately, he is seen by one of the singers, and he is later arrested and taken in for a police lineup and questioning. Most films would probably only spend a minute or two in the police headquarters and then get back to the action, but Melville chooses to create an entire extended scene out of the police headquarters, creating a highly engaging and captivating sequence. The entire time at the headquarters is also largely wordless, charged almost entirely through characters’ glances and psychological games, trying to get some answer out of any of the witnesses or to break any alibis. Jef’s clever thinking keeps his alibi sound, but the police inspector is dubious. On top of that, Jef’s arrest sends a red flag to his employer, who in turn decides to betray Jef. The story stays thrilling as Jef tries to elude all the forces that are after him, and the suspense is constant all the way up to the end.

Melville has crafted a film that is the epitome of cool but thankfully never feels like an empty exercise in style. The film takes conventional plot points (police procedural, assassin on the run, revenge, the code) and turns them into something that feels wholly unique just by stripping them down to their essence. Melville’s attention to detail also enhances both the characters and style of the film. Jef’s only worldly possessions besides clothes and little furniture seem to be rows and rows of water bottles, stacks of cigarettes, and a bird that he keeps in a cage in the middle of his apartment. The bird is a curious detail, but it even provides slight comic relief later in the film (Jef’s apartment is later bugged, and the cops get to listen to hours of tape of a bird chirping). Credit should also be given to cinematographer Henri Decaë for the film’s visual style, using a cool palette of blue and greys to convey not only the sparse interiors and dreary exteriors but also reflecting Jef’s mindset throughout the film. The acting is also top-notch all around, complimenting the film the entire way. Alain Delon gives an effective performance as a quiet, cold-blooded killer, only interested his code and his mission. He never relies on histrionics for the performance, choosing instead to introvert his character’s actions, in turn making his motives and determination all the more effective. Francois Perier, who plays the police inspector, also gives an incredible performance, creating a man determined at any cost to catch Jef on his bluff. The entire subway sequence is a master class in suspense and tension, all while creating a sense of claustrophobia for the main character as he tries to escape the cops. Film critic Roger Ebert also wrote, “The movie teaches us how action is the enemy of suspense--how action releases tension, instead of building it.” This is key to the film’s success, as it does not rely on typical action beats but rather trusts the viewer will find the story thrilling through the characters instead of action.

It’s easy to see how Le Samouraï has gone on to influence countless films, especially ones rooted in the crime drama. John Woo’s The Killer is proudly indebted, and I also immediately saw how this film’s minimalist style directly influenced the work of Jim Jarmusch (his 1999 film Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai also pays homage to Melville’s film). There is not a wasted scene in this film, and the patience the film shows with its story pays off in spades for the viewer. Melville’s masterful ability to create a sense of place through the most minimalist means creates a rich and rewarding viewing experience that will not be forgotten.

Rating: 5 stars (out of 5)