Il 7° giurato

Le septième juré (The 7th Juror) is directed by Georges Lautner and adapted to screenplay by Pierre Laroche and Jacques Robert from the Francis Didelot novel. It stars Bernard Blier, Maurice Biraud, Francis Blanche, Danièle Delorme and Jacques Riberolles. Music is by Jean Yatove and cinematography by Maurice Fellous.

Horrible Crime Near Pontarlier!

Overcome by the sight of a nude lady sunbather, Grégoire Duval (Blier) forces himself upon her and in a panic strangles her to death when she begins to scream. Returning back to his hum-drum existence, Duval is shocked to find the victim's boyfriend charged with her murder on circumstantial evidence. He's even more shocked when he is chosen for jury service on that very trial...

Crime of a coward - or a madman?

A caustic and potent piece of French cinema, Le septième juré operates on many narrative levels. In parts it's a cracker-jack legal drama, featuring a court case of dramatic verve, while the observations about the sometimes folly of the law is brutally laid bare. At other parts it's a cutting deconstruction of small town mentality, of class distinction and standings, all of which are not favourably portrayed in the slightest.

First you must save your soul.

Firmly operating in the realm of film noir, the makers produce a clinically atmospheric picture. Georges Lautner opens with an ominous shot of a lone fisherman in his boat, out on a mist covered lake, the accompanying classical music amazingly in sync with the scenes. It's evident from this point we are in for some visual and aural treats. Blier provides a classic noir narration as we move among bohemian architecture, through smoky jazz clubs and clientèle exclusive bars. At night the streets are full of shadows, in daylight there's a muted tone to Maurice Fellous' photography, this is not a happy place to live - unless you be one of the secular bourgeois of course...

Othello was misunderstood too.

Other imagery strikes hard. A confession box sequence is brilliantly filmed, noir nirvana, a tilted mirror used during a key exchange between husband and wife is astute, and the pièce de résistance that involves grotesque reflections on a brandy glass. Haunting scenes drop in and out, normally involving the tortured Duval staring blankly out at someone, while the court case is a hot-bed of hurt and chaos, even turning to the macabre as the crime is reenacted at the actual murder scene. Lautner also likes pull away movements as well, and so do we!

Superbly acted, directed, scored and photographed, this is yet another French film that proves that although the first wave of American film noir had faded cum the start of the 60s, the French were keeping the flame alight well into the decade. From that opening misty lake scene, to the black twist finale that is crowned by a stunning ambulance light sequence, this is black gold cinema. Merry Christmas. 9/10

Grégoire Duval (Bernard Blier), one of the most upstanding citizens in his provincial French town, commits a spur-of-the-moment crime of passion and subsequently gets picked for the jury when a man with a dubious past goes on trial for the murder. Grégoire's probing questions get the man acquitted but in the eyes of the community, the defendant's still a killer and when Grégoire eventually confesses to the crime, nobody wants to hear it...

Director Georges Lautner's extremely satisfying film noir also doubles as an autopsy of cold, cruel, hypocritical bourgeois values and is not unlike "Madame Bovary" in that respect. The philosophically resigned voice-over narration of a man tormented not only by what he's done but by the way his entire life played out has a chilling effect and it's a dark universe, indeed, right down to THE INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS ending (on Christmas Eve, no less). There's bitter irony to spare with a dazed walk through nocturnal city streets present in some of the finest noir such as ELEVATOR TO THE GALLOWS and BLAST OF SILENCE and director Georges Lautner (who'd go on to make the giallo-esque ROAD TO SALINA with Rita Hayworth & Mimsy Farmer) gives the bleak proceedings a grey, misty patina that doesn't go away, even in the daytime. The Francis Didelot novel the film is based on was adapted in the U.S. a year earlier for an episode of THE ALFRED HITCHCOCK HOUR called "The Star Juror" and the timeless tale was also turned into a 2008 TV movie in it's native France. 10/10!

Amazing film. amazingly shot, the first sequence got me totally off guard with its overwhelming and amazing soundtrack and its dream like directing style.

Le septième juré was most likely one of the most depressing films i have ever seen, it had no redeemable characters besides Sautral and Catherine and essentially nothing good ever happens, it is almost like a kafkian nightmare. Still, unlike most polar i have seen so far, it manages to be ambiguous enough to keep it from being too preachy and moralistic.i am also really grateful for how, despite how the characters see her, Catherine was treated with a certain distance and lack of judgement by the film. That made the film seem more like a comment on how moralistic and hypocritical are some spheres of society, in this case, the political and bourgeois classes. I also thought it was a really smart way to deal with the issue by making the lead character at the same time regret what he did while not exonerating him of all the guilt. Not to mention that making him, a calm and respectable man rather than a criminal or an angry man or a jealous husband or a drug user commit the crime raises the question of why would someone do that. This unanswered question instead of making the discourse seem incomplete deepens greatly the ideological reach of the film BECAUSE it leaves room for interpretation. So in short, very interesting film and considering how dark it is, quite an easy watch.

M.Duval (Blier), bored and out walking, comes upon Catherine, a beauty sunbathing topless. He tries to kiss her and when she resists and screams, strangles her. He feels no great remorse or pangs of conscience, but when he finds himself on the jury at the trial of her main lover (she had several) does all he can to to get the wrongly-accused man acquitted. To say more would spoil your enjoyment. suffice to say the film is thoroughly gripping, and the ending terrific.

Pathe have been issuing DVDs of restored, relatively rare French films like this one. The prints are excellent and have English subtitles: I wish Gaumont would follow suit, as there are so many neglected works from the 50s and 60s by the likes of Cayatte and Hossein, brushed aside by the New Wavers like the abysmal Jean-Luc. "Juror" could have been made by the more prestigious Clouzot or Chabrol, as it shares their disgust at the prejudice and self- protection of the provincial petit bourgeoisie, Duval's wife being a prime example (no wonder he's so frustrated.)

I've seen three Lautner films restored by Pathe, and this is easily the best (probably his masterpiece, but I haven't seen all of his work.) It's a pity he mostly made silly romps with insufferably smug stars like Belmondo and Meurisse, where nothing's at stake. All that prevents me giving this film 10 is that after Duval met the prosecuting counsel in a shop pre-trial and said he believed the accused innocent, said counsel would surely have rejected Duval as a juror: that scene was a mistake.

As an outsider it was fascinating to see how the French legal system works. The juror basically conducted the defence (the defence counsel hardly said a word!) Duval constantly interrupted proceedings to ask questions. He grilled witnesses, called for one to be recalled, argued with the prosecutor and suggested a reconstruction at the crime scene. None of this would be possible in the adversarial system we have in the UK and Us: the French system, which seems focused on trying to find the truth, seems superior.

Bernard Blier is proving on this movie that he was not just a comic actor, but a great actor, at the service of a very fine director, George Lautner who had a great carrer (it was his 6th movie). The scenario describes how a society can be totally absurd, and how to turn justice in a very bizarre frame.