Le Crabe-Tambour

I am working a librarian in the french equivalent of the British Council, in Quito, Ecuador, South America. A long long time ago, when I was still living in France, a friend of mine lend me a copy of Shoendoerffer's novel, "Le crabe tambour". I never forgot this small pocket book, which surprisingly enough was not published anymore.

A few years later, working in the Alliance Francaise of Quito, I found out an old video copy of the movie. Its quality was definitely not top notch, for it had been taped from the french TV in the 80's. The sound was quite bad, making it uneasy to catch the dialogues.

Even though, I loved it. Definitely. A few months later, the video was removed from the library, because it was not an original. Of course, I took this one with me and brought it home.

Why is this film so magical?

Because it blends in a superb way the drama of history (more precisely, the bitter decolonisation years of the french empire in Indochina / Vietnam and Algeria), its heart-braking influence on the soldiers who fought these lost wars, philosophical reflections about the meaning of man's liberty to choose his own way (and the subsequent price to pay), beauty of the sea and the men who sail her, friendship, death.

As Kubrick's 2001, "Le crabe tambour" does not reveal everything at first seeing. Like a marvellous book, it is to be seen again, and again. Again for the beautiful acting of Rochefort, Rich, Dufilho and Perrin. Again for the harshness of the dialogues, and the importance of silence. Again for the magnificent photography of boats struggling in the cold and furious North Atlantic. Again for this unique and moving confrontation between history and men.

Just like in Kubrick's 2001, there is not much of action to be seen. Despite the different places it takes us through (Indochina, Algeria, France and sea), the film is much more like a long and uninterrupted dialogue. Two officers on a small boat, encountering each other on the common ground of their friendship for a third one, the absent one, the "crabe-tambour". Two old and battered military men, chasing a ghost, each one for his own intimate and imperious reasons.

So will we, one day, ask ourselves the same frightening question : "What have I done with my talent?".

For me, this is definitely worth a 10 out of 10. But I strongly recommend reading the book first, if can be.

I saw this film five or six years ago after selecting it at random on the "French" shelf of my local video store. It made quite an impact on me, but I subsequently forgot the title and had to go to quite some lengths to relearn it.

I wish I had the time and patience to write out my thoughts at length and with eloquence. Simply put, this feels like one of Joseph Conrad's sea novels, in particular "Lord Jim." It's gorgeously lit and shot -- in fact, I'd go so far as to call it a photographic masterpiece. Maybe the narrative unfolds a bit too slowly or bogs down here or there, but the film concludes beautifully and has haunted me ever since the one and only time I saw it. This may owe something to the casting of Jacques Perrin in the title role. For once here's someone with enough dash and je ne sais quois to justify an entire film spent in search of a supposedly legendary character. Even Brando somewhat disappointed in this regard in "Apolcaypse Now" (which, come to think of it, was very loosely based on Conrad).

It's inexplicable to me that "Le Crabe-Tambour" has never had, and likely never will, much of a following. For my money, the French have never excelled at "classical" film-making in the key of Hollywood. Nor am I typically a fan of that kind of thing; however, this film is an exception in either case. I just picked up the VHS box on the shelf at the verysame video store last night, which is what prompted my comment. I think I'll rent it again tomorrow.

A chance remark leads three French naval officers to reminisce, together and privately, about the compelling young commander Willsdorf, nicknamed The Drummer Crab, recalling his exploits from the fog-shrouded rivers of Indochina to an attempted military coup in Algeria to his lonely, anonymous vigil in the North Atlantic fishing lanes nearby. Joseph Conrad would have loved this film, arguably the finest modern seafaring adventure ever made: a thoughtful and thrilling study of man versus the elements, where the past itself becomes an elemental force even more unyielding than the vivid Winter seascapes captured by Raoul Coutard's breathtaking cinematography. In metaphor, Willsdorf's fate is the fate of French colonialism, and only by pursuing his memory, through crashing waves and hissing spindrift, can his three erstwhile companions (a dying captain, a middle-aged medical officer, and a robust, veteran Chief Engineer) confront and endure their collective loss. This is a spellbinding film, rich in history and detail.

I'm not the smartest puppy in the litter, and I am often lost in a movie. So I just have some vague conception of what actually was going on here. But unlike most movies today, it has an unusually forlorn and mysterious feel to it that makes it appealing. Its characters are also people who get little notice today, which for an American audience would include French officers engaged in postwar colonial action at the end of French colonial rule. There's a lot of great photography too. So, even if the characters are remote and the storyline, bouncing around different time periods and places, is perplexing, the movie was moderately pleasing.

Reviewer "gerrythree" in 2006 wrote something that I will build on, which is:

"Behind the opening and closing credits are images of ships beached on shore, wrecks that have outlived their usefulness, just like the ship's captain. The real French frigate, the Jaureguiberry, filmed for this movie on its last voyage, gets a mention in the last credit. When you see the ship's bow plowing through high waves in the North Atlantic, you also see the sides of the ship, with rust patches on it. The ship, like some of its passengers, has reached the end of the line. Le Crabe Tambour is not about just the adventures of an errant soldier, but is an attempt to put on screen the meaning of life for career military men at the end of their careers"

My father, a career U.S. Navy officer, commander of nuclear submarines, followed his Navy sea career by becoming U.S. Naval Attache to France - so of course he knew zFrench and French culture, and many French navy officers.

One day years after his retirement (1984) he pulled out a VHS and said "watch this with me." The movie was "The Drummer Crab." He knew French, but I did not, and the movie has no subtitles, so he explained it to me as the movie went on.

It was a very important film to him. When reviewer "gerrythree" said that "The Drummer Crab" "is an attempt to put on screen the meaning of life for career military men at the end of their careers," he is absolutely correct. I was never in the military, but anyone who was, and everyone who has a career-military person in his or her family - especially career Navy - will benefit by watching this film (though most Americans will need to watch it with a French-speaker).

One thing that especially struck me was my father's response to the very end of the film, when the frigate captain brings the warship to the pier for the last time. The captain (skipper) knows that this is the last time he will ever do this. The captain gives very precise commands to rudder and engines, to bring the ship alongside the pier without a tug-boat, and - this is what matters - with the very fewest number of commands. My father explained that among ship-skippers, one of the master-arts is to know how to bring the ship to a dead-stop right on position along the pier, with the fewest number of commands. It is how they test and evaluate each other, and know who is the very best. He had done it himself many times, bringing his submarine alongside the submarine tender-ships after his two-month missile deterrent patrols. His last time was in 1972, in Holy Loch, Scotland - after which he transferred to shore duty for the rest of his career.

I think the feeling must be like a major-league football or baseball player, who knows he is playing in his last game in the big leagues - and the game ends, and the player walks off the field for the last time, never to step-out again in uniform, ready to play. A very bitter-sweet moment - which this film captures for real-life Navy ship-captains, like my father.