Der Rabe

In the village of Saint Robin, the population receives poison pen letters signed as The Raven spreading rumors and accusations. Dr. Rémy Germain (Pierre Fresnay), who is having an affair with the social assistant Laura (Micheline Francey), the wife of the psychiatrist Dr. Michel Vorzet (Pierre Larquey) that works with him at the local hospital, is the main victim of The Raven. His affair is disclosed and he is also accused of abortionist. When a patient of the hospital commits suicide after receiving a letter telling that his cancer is terminal, the loathed nurse Marie Corbin (Héléna Manson) is arrested since people believe she is The Raven. But soon there are other letters and Dr. Vorzet tries to identify who might be the notorious Raven.

"Le Corbeau" is an intriguing film directed by Henri-Georges Clouzot, with the storyline about a mysterious character entitled The Raven that writes poison pen letters and the power of rumors and the effect in the population of a small town in France. The film was banned in France since it was produced by the German company Continental Films during World War II in the occupied France. My vote is seven.

Title (Brazil): "O Corvo" ("The Raven")

Even the children in Henri-Georges Clouzot's Le Corbeau (The Raven) are sneaky and malicious. No doubt they reflect their upbringing in the stifling French village of St. Robin, where a series of poison-pen letters – signed The Raven – has galvanized the populace into a spree of spying, whispering and finger-pointing. Most of the letters accuse an aloof doctor (Pierre Fresnay) of occupying illicit beds and of performing illegal operations – relieving women of burdens they're unwilling to bear.

The accusations aren't entirely fanciful – Fresnay has cheerless affairs going with the young wife (Micheline Francey) of a sententious, much older doctor (Pierre Larquey) and with the town pump (Ginette Leclerc), a smoldering seductress who's both lame and a hypochondriac. But the evil epistles disgorge more than enough malice to go around, alluding to dirty little secrets that touch just about everybody in this Gallic Peyton Place.

When one of the letters causes the suicide of a young man dying of liver cancer, another slips out of a wreath on his casket during his funeral procession, and yet another flutters from the rafters of the church during the requiem mass. The search for the anonymous writer reaches the point of hysteria – what else does the unseen assassin know, and who will be the next victim? Alone among the townsfolk, the mother (Sylvie) of the suicide seems resigned and resolute....

Clouzot has been called the French Hitchcock, but when Le Corbeau hit the screens in 1943 – released by a German production company during the Nazi occupation of France – he wasn't welcomed as warmly as the mischievous but harmless cherub across the Atlantic. its mordantly unflattering portrait of the French bourgeoisie was shunned as little short of treasonous. To be sure, Le Corbeau, like most of Clouzot's work (Diabolique, The Wages of Fear) seems to take Shakespeare's misanthropic Timon of Athens as inspiration for its outlook on humanity; it's certainly no tourist brochure for the French provinces.

When Otto Preminger remade the movie in 1951 as The 13th Letter (setting it in the Province of Québec, and starring Michael Rennie, Linda Darnell, Charles Boyer and Constance Smith), he had to pull back from the nastier material – the routine, glum adultery, the rumors of abortions – and apply rosier tints to the characters. None of that sentimental nonsense for Clouzot, who unrepentantly hewed to his malevolent vision right to the bitter end.

"Beware! I see all and tell all." So quoth the Raven, the pen name of the mysterious writer of poison pen letters that has plagued a small town in France with suspicion, fear and anxiety. Since this film was made by a Frenchman under a German controlled studio during Nazi occupied France in 1943, there is a subtext not necessarily explicit in the film itself, but nonetheless pervades its very essence. In Le Corbeau, Dr. Remy Germain becomes a victim when letters start circulating that accuse him of having an affair with a married woman and of being an abortionist. Both of these accusations are false but do contain half-truths, and it is the unfortunate tendency for groups of people, usually motivated by fear, to assume the worst. Furthermore, Germain is an outsider, in that he refuses to participate in gossip and avoids social clicks, which ironically makes him a target. Soon he will find himself under suspicion and alienated. Since virtually every member of the community has some skeleton in their closet, they would much rather turn their ire on the accused than risk having their own affairs aired by The Raven. And so the drama escalates to a crisis where Clouzot does not even spare the victim of blame. By assuming a position of detachment, Germain has turned a blind eye and thereby contributing to ignorance which only provides fuel for the Raven and the lies and deceit spread like a plague.

Someone unknown sends a series of slanderous letters to various people in a small French town, the motive apparently being to drive a local medical doctor out. The letters are signed: "The Raven".

On the face of it, the story is a kind of whodunit. Who is the Raven, and what motivates him or her? That's the mystery. There's no shortage of suspects, including the very doctor who supposedly is being hounded.

But the film, released during the dregs of the Nazi regime in Germany, contains relevant political subtext and themes, not the least of which is the idea that someone, anyone, can be an informer. Knowing a town's dirty little secrets, the rumors, people's weaknesses and vices can be deadly in the hands of someone with a penchant for writing, and a desire to tell all. What the raven writes is to some extent true. And the truth turns the townsfolk against each other.

The raven, as an anonymous entity, functions as a whistle blower, a snitch, a spy, a secret agent, a kind of Deep Throat. Thematically, the film is dark and subversive.

The film's B&W lighting is noirish and effective. I especially liked the sequence where a naked light bulb hanging down from the ceiling gets swung back and forth, like a pendulum, as two characters converse about moral pendulums of right and wrong, sanity and insanity, light and darkness. Where does one begin and the other end, asks a character.

Although "The Raven" gets off to a slow start, the plot and the thematic import do pick up. Two-thirds in, the film curves deep, both as a whodunit and in its cinematic statement on the issues germane to whistle blowing and informing.

There's a scribe with claws who's writing to the town, to people in high office, to bring them down, takes the name of Le Corbeau, that's a crow if you don't know, leaves them squawking, screeching, crying, full of woe. The target seems to be Rémy Germain, a doctor who may offer, abortion (he doesn't), but there's others with secrets, who may have closets of regrets, and dark wings are used, to take a flame, and fan.

A wonderful piece of filmmaking that takes you around the houses and rouses your suspicions on just about all the characters, before twisting and turning, snaking and worming to its devious finale. Great performances, great story, all from one of the greatest directors.