La mano del diablo

I'm a sucker for Faustian stories, and this one is such a delight. It has an Expressionistic, visual flair to it with charming special effects, and I was impressed that it was made in 1943. It's not a leap to believe that Maurice Tourneur saw in this story a symbol of Vichy France.

The story has been told with so many variations over the years, some before this film but so many more afterwards that it may not feel all that fresh. In fact, it may feel a little like a (very good) 80 minute Twilight Zone episode. I liked how it zipped along with great pace, but managed to get in little bits of humor in along the way, i.e. The painter saying this about the airs he put on: "I cultivated my sloppiness, wore a new dirty shirt each day, carefully mussed my hair and spouted dazzling theories," or the crowd clamoring at the open bar at the gallery opening. I also liked the characterizations of the devil ('le petit homme,' Palau) and the struggling painter (interestingly also derided by his girlfriend as a 'little man,' Pierre Fresnay). Showing the history of the seductive power of the disembodied hand, with the recurring elements of never being satisfied and ultimate ruin, was also a wonderful, symbolic touch.

A well done, very imaginative story, variations of which have been done many times, but not with the style and touch of a Tourneur. Both father and son had made quality pictures enriching the lives of moviegoers for decades, and here is another. Jumping ahead a few years for a comparison, "Carnival Of Sinners" is like a feature-length 'Twilight Zone' TV show, but you would have to see this picture to appreciate how far superior it is.

Brissot(Pierre Fresnay) is a painter unsuccessful in most everything he attempts - until he buys a 'talisman', a hand in a box from someone glad to get rid of it. Of course, the hand is cursed. The film starts at the end as he is relating his tale to a group at a mountain resort, and from thereon the story is as gripping as it is bizarre, and there is no letup. I don't summarize movie plots in reviews (I leave that to all other contributors), but this picture is an edge-of-your-seat story throughout its 78 minutes, which fly by.

Very surprising to think that there are only 5 other reviews and only 394 ratings for such a terrific picture. Congratulations to TCM for dusting this one off. I am always delighted when I can see a great movie I hadn't seen before - and done with such style and competence. But with the Tourneur name on it I should have expected same.

Gloomy and atmospheric French variation on "Faust" and "The Monkey's Paw", brought to a higher level thanks to the stylish direction of Maurice Tourneur. If that surname rings a bell, you are probably familiar with the work of his more famous - and even more talented - son, Jacques Tourneur. When Tourneur Sr. Released "La Main Du Diable", his son Jacques already directed some of the best horror movies in history, like "Cat People" and "I Walked with a Zombie". Nevertheless, Maurice is a respectable craftsman as well, as made abundantly clear by this effort.

Desperate and unsuccessful painter Roland Brissot buys an extremely cheap talisman - a sealed box - from a sneaky Italian restaurant owner, hoping it'll bring him luck and the love of the beautiful Irene who brutally rejected him. Miraculously, Brissot's left hand (although he's right-handed) suddenly paints the most astounding artworks. Under the pseudonym of Maximus Léo, he becomes an acclaimed artist with Irene by his side as the worshiping wife. Life is like a dream for exactly one year, and then a mysterious little old man in black shows up ...

What I mainly like about "La Main du Diable" is how it resembles those brilliant expressionist horror classics from Germany during the early 1920s. Particularly the narrative structure and the dazzling climax seem to come straight out of his wondrous period. The most powerful (and uncanny) moments from the film come near the end, when Brissot confronts 7 men with terrifying masks at a diner table. They all turn out to be previous "owners" of the talisman, and share their stories. The moral is always the same: be careful what you wish for, and greed will bring any man down.

A few years ago I was attracted to the work of French filmmaker Maurice Tourneur, after reading his IMDb profile. I already knew that his film «La Main du Diable» had a cult following, and that he was the father of Jacques Tourneur, the famous director of «Cat People», «I Walked with a Zombie», and «Out of the Past», but I had no idea of his own prestige and importance in the history of cinema.

During the silent film period, Maurice Tourneur was as popular as David W. Griffith and Thomas Harper Ince, and his movies had a strong influence due to their visual design refinement. I am yet to see his version of James Fenimore Cooper's «Last of the Mohicans» (1920), selected to the National Film Registry by the US Congress, but I have already seen his adaptations of Maurice Maeterlinck's «The Blue Bird» (1918, also selected to the National Film Registry), and Joseph Conrad's «Victory» (1919).

I have just finished watching «La Main du Diable», a French production made during the last stage of his career, when he returned to France, tired of the commercialism of the Hollywood films. Connections are often made between Nazi occupation in France and certain films that are or seem to be allegories of this state of things, as Carné's «Les Visiteurs du Soir», or Clouzot's «Le Corbeau», so I would not be surprised if there are analysis linking «La Main du Diable» to Nazi presence in French territory.

If it's true that this reading is possible and plausible, that is fine, but the film is fascinating as it is, a moral tale with elements of fantasy and subtle horror: in an Alpine hotel, the boring confinement of a group of travelers trapped by an avalanche, brightens up with the sudden arrival of a nervous man, with a stump and a small box under his arm. After the box is stolen during a blackout, the travelers become a captive audience (as we, the spectators), listening to the man as he tell his story, from being a luckless painter, to buying a sinister talisman that brought him fame, love and fortune, and being cheated by the Devil.

The story of course is similar to other cinematic pacts with the Devil, as those made by Faust, the Prague student, Jabez Stone in «The Devil and Daniel Webster», the phantom of the Paradise theater, the investigator in «Angel Heart», or the young lawyer in «The Devil's Advocate», among others. But Tourneur, as Murnau in his «Faust», fascinates us with his visual reading of Gérard de Nerval's novel, and creates a glowing monochromatic world of oblique lines, shadows, masks, and an affable little Devil, played by a smiling old man who, behind the appearance of a helpless civil servant, hides his treacherous essence.

The film is a well-mounted clockwork that reaches its expected conclusion with the same punctuality the Devil demands of his creditors. If by chance it crosses your path, don't miss «La Main du Diable», a work that only asks for 78 minutes of your time.

The tragic and ill-fated Gérard de Nerval left a small but highly regarded body of poetry but it was as a superlative storyteller that he was first perceived by his contemporaries. He had already published a much praised translation of Goethe's 'Faust' and his short story 'La Main enchantée' is a variation on the 'Faustian pact' theme. It has been adapted for film by Jean-Paul le Chanois. To say it is a 'loose' adaptation is an understatement and le Chanois has interpolated snippets from popular Breton tales told to him by his grandmother.

This is undeniably the best of the five films made by Maurice Tourneur under the aegis of Continental Films, created by Herr Goebbels to distract the French public from the minor annoyance of the Occupation. From the very earliest Monsieur Tourneur's films were noted for their pictorial qualities and he employed his astonishing visual sense most effectively in themes of mystery and fantasy. The air of menace that pervades this piece is due to the Expressionist lighting. His cinematographer here is the legendary Armand Thirard whilst the editing by Christian Gaudin (strangely uncredited) maintains the tension. The sets are by Andrej Andrejew, one of the finest scenic designers of German Expressionism. By all accounts, due to the indisposition of the director, it was the assistant director Jean Devaivre, who was responsible for the wonderfully imagined sequence that gave the film its alternative title of 'Carnival of Sinners'.

This film has been seen by some as an allegory of the pact made between Hitler and Pétain and the Devil here, as played by the diminuitive, bowler-hatted Pierre Palau, is a thoroughly prosaic and unpleasant personage who might easily pass as an official of the Vichy regime. This of course is open to interpretation.

The cast is headed by Pierre Fresnay who was to shine the same year in Clouzot's masterpiece 'Le Corbeau', a thinly disguised allegory that got its director into all sorts of trouble. Fresnay is joined again by Noel Roquefort and Pierre Larquey. A small and uncredited role is played by the excellent Louis Salou, moving up the ranks and just three years before his signature role as Comte de Montray in 'Les Enfants du Paradis'. Fresnay's feverish and intense performance as the doomed painter frantically trying to save his soul is magnetic, even by his standards and it is to be regretted that this brilliant artiste, despite being a decorated hero in the previous war, was never able to shake off the stigma of alleged but never proven collaboration. His leading lady in this is Josseline Gael who was to pay a far higher price for her ill-advised horizontal collaboration with a member of the French Gestapo whilst still legally married to actor Jules Berry.

Maurice Tourneur died in 1961, having been forced to retire from filming in 1949 following the loss of a limb in a motor accident. In a career spanning thirty-six years his output is bound to have been variable but he remains one of Cinema's great visual stylists. His son Jacques, in his films for RKO in the 1940's, proved a worthy successor.