Quand tu liras cette lettre

Max Trivet is a garage mechanic, boxer, thief and local gigolo. When his seduction of a young shop girl turns to rape, the girl's sister Thérèse, an ex-nun, plans her revenge. However, it appears that even the austere Thérèse may not be immune to his charms...

Many of the iconic Melville elements are present already in this early film: the big American cars, the scenes with night club dancers rehearsing their act, the long raincoat and hat which Max wears... The plot is more melodramatic than we would expect from the director's later work, but Melville complicates this with ambiguities that add considerably to the interest of the story: Max is portrayed as cruel and cynical, yet also sympathetic; while Thérèse, played by the singer Juliette Greco, is so cold and impassive it is hard to guess, even at the end of the film, what her feelings and intentions have been towards Max.

The use of music is very interesting in this movie, each of the main characters being given not just their own theme but their own instrument: an accordion for Max, a church organ for Thérèse, a harpsichord for her sister Denise, and a piano for the married woman whom Max seduces. There is some striking cinematography, too, notably in the scene on the beach at night, with Thérèse and Max appearing as silhouettes against the turbulent sea.

Well, okay, there's no singing and dancing, but look at what it does have: the Riviera, fast cars, luxury hotels, prizefighting, a gigolo-thief, symbolism, irony, rape, and nuns. Therese, the would-be nun, is snatched from the convent at nearly the last minute and returned to a world which, warmly bourgeois on the surface, is in fact teeming with villainy and obsession. When the criminal's obsession with money collides with Therese's obsession with divine justice, the screen practically combusts. (There is, as well, a scene in which fire is used to represent the mortal dangers of both carelessness and passion.)

Juliette Greco, young and gorgeous, has cheekbones that just don't stop. She vividly personifies the forces of God and nature that leave terrible destruction in their wake. A terrific powerhouse of a movie.

The first half of "Quand Tu Liras Cette Lettre...." (1953) feels aimless, and Yvonne Sanson's role and entire subplot turn out to be superfluous. The film hits its stride in its second half, when it goes to some dark places and asks questions about faith, morals, love, and redemption. It concludes with an ironic, memorable surprise ending. Probably more of a screenwriter's (Jacques Deval) than a director's (Jean-Pierre Melville) film. *** out of 4.

Enjoyably melded here are two staples of 1940s cinema, the melodrama and the noir.

Not particularly complex, the characters are either good or evil. Max (Philippe Lemaire) and all the people he mixes with, even the unfortunate rich Irène (Yvonne Sanson) who he robs and murders, are bad. While the Voise family of big sister Thérèse (Juliette Gréco), little sister Denise (Irène Galter), and the grandparents are all virtuous.

Noir elements include dream logic, fateful encounters, a high sexual charge, dramatic irony, mixed motives, violence and death. Low life individuals hustle each other in the underworld of Cannes, shot in expressionist photography full of symbolism to evocative music.

There is even an inverted femme fatale in Thérèse. Though leaving her convent on the sudden death of her parents to take over the family shop and look after Denise, she is still a nun at heart. Max, forcibly engaged to Denise after raping her, sees the fierce black-clad Thérèse as a much greater prize. She, all woman despite her outward ferocity, cannot help being susceptible to his immense charm (the two actors were lovers in real life) but sublimates her feelings into a desire to save his lost soul. In a highly emblematic scene, when Max is burning some shop rubbish in the courtyard at night, her clothes catch fire and he smothers the flames by rolling her on the ground, baring her midriff. That, however, is as close as he ever gets to rolling her around with even less on.

A powerful story, full of atmosphere, told with twists and tension and well worth the 100 minutes to watch.

Novitiate Juliette Gréco is summoned from the nunnery when her parents are killed in a car crash. If she does not return to the stationery store and run it, her sister, Irene Galter will go to the grandparents' farm and the store will be sold. So she bows her head and accepts this as the will of G*d, or at least the scenarist. At the same time, Philippe Lemaire, mechanic, boxer, seducer of anything with hair longer than his, and budding socioopath, begins carrying on an affair with rich Yvonne Sanson, looking forward to enjoying her employment back in Brussels. He kills her by accident, trying to slaughter his accomplice, but the judge can't talk himself into having him arrested. No need! Here comes Miss Gréco, telling him that since he raped Miss Galter, who tried to commit suicide but failed, he is going to propose to her in front of their grandparents, and if ever she even suspects he doesn't love her, here's the gun to prove her sister does. And of course, he confesses he's actually in love with Miss Gréco, and insists she's in love with him, because reasons.

Got that? I was at the end of the movie and still didn't know who felt what about whom. Director Jean-Pierre Melville has Miss Gréco as frozen-faced as someone who's just had a botox injection. It's beautifully shot on the Riviera, and Miss Sanson drives an enormous Cadillac one-seat convertible, courtesy of what we are told is a psychopathic husband. Could Melville, working from some one else's script for whatever reason he had (money?) just hate everyone because he's too cool for all this?

Maybe. But then, someone would have to act sincere.