Les espions

Following the commercial failure of 'Mystere Picasso', director Henri-Georges Clouzot turned to a cold war thriller by Czech writer Egon Hoskovsky. I have not read the novel so cannot judge just how loose an adaptation it is. According to Stanislas Steeman with whom he worked twice, Clouzot ''would build something having demolished any resemblance to the original.''

This is not great Clouzot to be sure but still has touches of a master film-maker with his grasp of 'light' and pacing. There is of course the blacker-than-black humour and the usual collection of colourful but morally vacuous characters played here by some of the best in the business.

Into Dr. Malic's delapidated psychiatric clinic come Peter Ustinov as Kaminsky and Sam Jaffe as Cooper, both of them spies posing as patients and Martita Hunt, another spy, posing as a replacement nurse. There are two genuine patients in residence one of whom is a morphine addict and the other a deaf-mute. Curd Jurgens turns up as Alex but he might actually be Vogel, a nuclear scientist whose dreadful new formula is the 'Macguffin' everyone is after. The real Vogel turns up towards the end in the person of the excellent 0. E. Hasse.

I am impressed with the excellent French of Sam Jaffe and Martita Hunt who are mercifully not 'dubbed'. Miss Hunt's portrayal is outrageous and utterly riveting. The performance that lingers longest is that of Clouzot's then wife Vera who is simply stunning as Lucie the deaf-mute.

One does not really know whether the changes of tone from satire to dark drama here are intentional or accidental and although they can be somewhat disorientating, this bizarre film still succeeds as a piece of entertainment.

Following the excellent 'La Verité' nothing would ever be the same for Clouzot after the sudden death of Vera in 1960 and the totally unjustified criticisms of his work from the arrogant New Ripple brigade.

It is said that a work of art reflects its creator. What that says about Henri-Georges Clouzot the man I shudder to think but let us be grateful for the films this complex individual has given us.

This is HG Clouzot's most ambitious work ,one of the most demanding and complex movie of a soon-to-be -nouvelle-vague France.Let's put it straight:although modern to a fault,"les espions" has nothing to do with the nouvelle vague:no ""free" camera here",a bunch of "old actors", a very elaborate screenplay.The problem is that it has nothing to do with the "old guard" either.The "story" flouts conventions,and HGC does not give a damn if his audience cannot catch up with it.The film was bound to be a commercial failure,particularly with an audience who got enthusiastic over "le salaire de la peur'(wages of fear) and "les diaboliques" .

The starting point may recall "the diaboliques": in this latter work,a seedy boarding-school;in "les espions" ,a doctor short of the readies,whose clinic is sinking.So why not gladly agreeing a mysterious man's proposal?One million francs,if he puts "them" up?Who are "they"?That's how the doctor's(Gerard Sety) nightmare begins.He is caught up in the system,and a lot of threatening characters (played by topnotch international actors:Curd Jurgens,Martita Hunt,Sam Jaffe)begin to show up:every time he thinks he begins to understand,the truth eludes him-Gérard Séty 's character predates Laurence Harvey's in "the Mandchourian candidate" and even Michael Douglas's in "the game".HGC watched the spies as if they were microbes under a microscope.It's a rather unpleasant view. Vera Clouzot-the unforgettable heroine of "les diaboliques" - appears in the role of a deaf and dumb neurotic woman(She was to die of an heart attack three years later).

Clouzot 's health began to deteriorate during the sixties.After "les espions" he was to make only two works "la vérité"(the truth) one of Brigitte Bardot's best parts and "la prisonnière".He made only 11 movies in all,which may not seem much,but most of them are among the best works French cinema has produced.

Master Clouzot strikes again as in le Corbeau, another master piece which is invisible today. During some good old days French TV was showing these master pieces. Now, these master pieces are worth of a sacrifice from the all mighty editing firms and should be availiable to connoisseurs!

In common, I would guess, with anyone who had seen and admired the earlier work of Clouzot beginning with Le Corbeau and culminating in Les Diaboliques, I approached this with taste buds primed for major salivation only to be disappointed. This has to be a one-off, a thriller sans thrills. At times it resembles one of those creaky British B-pictures of the thirties and forties so that you almost expect Wilfrid Lawson to emerge out of a pea-souper and stare meaningfully at Kynaston Reeves. For reasons best known to himself Clouzot even finds work for Paul Carpenter, surely the most inept and wooden actor on either side of the Channel, matched only by Laurence Harvey and Alan Lake. Having bought it on DVD I shall, I suppose, watch it again on the off chance that there really is something I'm missing besides a few brain cells shed in the time it took to unspool.

There's something about black comedies played very dryly that appeals to me. I'm often laughing at action and never quite sure if I'm supposed to be. That's what I found myself doing pretty consistently while watching Henri-Georges Clouzot's The Spies, a tale of madness in Paris, a mixture of Hitchcockian wrong-man tropes and surrealism that combines better than Hitchcock's own Spellbound.

Doctor Malic (Gerard Sety) is approached by American Colonel Howard (Paul Carpenter). There's a mysterious figure, Alex (Curd Jurgens), that needs to be hidden in Malic's neighborhood, and Howard feels that Malic is the perfect man for the kind of discretion that job of protecting Alex will require. With the promise of a million francs, money Malic will be able to prop up his failing clinic and help his patients, mostly the mute Lucie (Vera Clouzot), he agrees. And everything pretty much immediately spirals out of control.

The people who work at his local café are replaced within hours by strangers who only give cryptic responses about where those they've replaced have gone. His own nurse is replaced. Malic is beset by two new potential patients, Sam Cooper (Sam Jaffe) and Michel Kaminsky (Peter Ustinov). Alex shows up and hides in one of the clinic rooms as the place gets swarmed with strangers, all asking him cryptic questions, giving him cryptic answers to his own questions, and generally just getting in his hair. He tries to keep his business running, but things are increasingly frantic as things get increasingly confused.

And this is where the contrast between the film's tone and its content turns the film into a comedy. It's pretty black (not quite gallows humor), and it's delivered so dryly that it's almost British. It's really just Malic trying to keep his cool and composure in the face of increasingly ridiculous circumstances and changes around him as everyone tries to manipulate him into giving up Alex. The biggest effort is by Sam who tries to convince Malic that Howard, whom Malic cannot find any trace of at the American embassy, actually made a mistake about protecting Alex at all. So, Malic should give up Alex and Howard would certainly agree if he could be found.

Malic can't believe anyone, and he's increasingly at his wit's end to try and figure out whom he should trust, if anyone. Alex is of no help, being as cryptic as anyone else, and Malic flounders (in composed physical form) from one event to the next, all while Lucie observes most of what's going on and can't communicate what she sees in any way shape or form.

Who is Alex and why does he need protecting? There are twists and turns, but ultimately it's just a MacGuffin in the proud tradition of Hitchcock, touching on a generic approach to the dominate energy power of the day to paint a portrait of impending doom should the wrong hands get their hands on Alex, who may not even be the guy they're actually looking for. Who knows?

What seems to be a straight forward spy story on the outside is really more of a portrait of madness within a dream state. Malic seems to be jerking from one section of a dream to the next, only tangential details mattering as connective tissue, in particular business around a match box which seems vitally important early and gets dismissed with a single word later. It's part and parcel of Malic trying to figure out this sea of mysteries that almost never seem to have actual answers. There's a certain John le Carre aspect to it all in some dialogue that indicates the entire spy-life is empty and without meaning, as well.

This isn't one of Clouzot's greatest achievements, but it's a complicated trifle of a black spy comedy. I think it might end up taking things too seriously in the end, but it's a fun ride that probably needs the right kind of audience to appreciate it. The kind of audience that likes dry, sardonic humor. I'm that kind of guy, and I got a real kick out of it.