Les portes de la nuit

Making my way through the films of Marcel Carné I come at last to this, which, after just watching Les Enfants du Paradis, can't help but feel somewhat lesser, and indeed the film does feel like less than the sum of its parts. There's some wonderful stretches but for it to work it needed to pull all of the strands of story together in a satisfying way by the end, and it doesn't, it just misses the mark. The pacing also drags in parts, particularly towards the end.

As often with foreign language films from the past, the English subtitles are poorly translated and unclear, making the point and subtext of certain passages hard to follow.

The fabric of the film is glorious, though, with a magical mood and ravishing photography. The premise of fated lovers is very nicely evoked, if not satisfactorily executed. Still very worth checking out though.

Winter in Paris, 1944. The occupying Germans have fled, Vichy disbanded but the war still rages on and shortages exist. Jean Diego (Yves Montand) exits at the Barbes Rochechouart metro station to deliver bad news to the wife of a friend. It turns out the news is erroneous, however and the wake turns into a celebration as Diego and the family go out to dinner where he finds himself entranced by a woman (Natalie Nathier) he views from the window of the restaurant. She wants out of her marriage and the pair meet later by coincidence. Meanwhile a jealous husband (Pierre Brasseur) searches for her.

Released in 1946, wounds still fresh from the occupation Gates of the Night is more than just a tragic romance but also a recent reminder of the collaboration and betrayal of fellow Frenchman during that period as well as those who benefited from the calamity. Director Marcel Carne shows no sympathy for these exploiters as they attempt to re-write their recent history. Pierre Brasseur, Serge Reggiani and especially Saturnin Fabre convey their complicity denial with unctuous conviction.

Carne and screenwriter add a touch of fantasy with a homeless character believing he is destiny in human form and while it rattles the verismo of the picture it provides additional ambiguity and interest.

Shot in typical graceful Carne style, (with cinematographer, Phillipe Agostini providing some stunning night canvases) the romance (with its "Autmn Leaves" background music) tends to be rather mawkish. Carne also chooses to jump from the film's climactic moment to another almost as pressing only to distract from both.

Romance removed Gates of Night must have engendered a good deal of emotion and soul searching to a French audience and the very recent memory of its occupation.

This started out as a ballet choreographed by Roland Petit called Le Rendez-vous, with a libretto by Prevert and music by Kosma. This ballet was one of Petit's finest works and was in fact given a new production in Paris only last month (March 2013). Carne saw the possibilities in the story and had Prevert write the screenplay. No expense was spared, we are told, to recreate the world of Barbes-Rochechouart, with the replica of the Metro station built on set. It is fashionable with some people to dismiss this film because Gabin and Dietrich aren't in it, or for some other reason having to do with politics, but I found it a wonderful experience. My only complaint is with Vilar's character, which was transferred from the ballet apparently, and is very tiresome indeed. His windy philosophizing only diminishes the enjoyment I felt in the story.

The actors do a tremendous job. Saturnin Fabre as the father of Malou and Guy, with his fake expressions of affection for his long-lost daughter--she had spent some years singing in New York--and his reluctance to admit to his collaboration with the Germans gives a strong performance. Raymond Bussieres as the train driver is a wonderful foil for Montand. Serge Reggiani as Guy, the militia member who denounced Bussieres to the Gestapo is creepy and cynical. He would have shot his father if the latter had tried to prevent him from escaping. Pierre Brasseur again shows us why he was one of the greatest actors in France: his businessman with the shady dealings that horrify his wife is very well crafted, given the small number of lines he has.

Finally Montand and Nattier are not replacements for Gabin and Dietrich, they are better because younger and much less prone to give actorish performances. You can see Montand working out how to play a scene. His responses are lively and right. Nattier looks great--every bit as glamorous as Dietrich, and she can sing too. Her scene with Fabre sizzles with anger and disappointment.

This movie is so much better than the limp confections that followed: La Marie du port, Therese Raquin, Le pays d'ou je viens, Les tricheurs and others. Carne was still fairly young and hadn't started to phone the work in.

Usually I don't comment on previous comments however misguided or uninformed they may be but in this case I must refer to the only other comment that has been posted if only to explain to our Canadian correspondent the difference between an individual song heard within a movie and a movie 'score'. The score of a given film embraces every note of background music from beginning to end credits and whilst on occasion (In 'Breakfast At Tiffany's' for example composer Hank Mancini wrote an individual song, 'Moon River', with lyrics by Johnny Mercer, which Audrey Hepburn sang at one point) an individual song may be highlighted it is erroneous to refer to that song as the 'score' of the film (to continue with the BAT illustration, Mancini's background score was, at times, lilting and some time later a second single song, 'Lovers In New York' was published, using Mancini's background music). Whilst it is true that scriptwriter Jacques Prevert's poem, Les Feuilles Mortes, set to music most memorably by long-time collaborator Joseph Kosma, IS heard (though not to completion) in the film it is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a 'score'. As it happens a second Prevert poem, Les Enfants qui s'aiment (Children Who Love) is also heard in snatches in this great movie though ironically neither is sung by Yves Montand, who went on to 'own' Les Feuilles Mortes and also recorded Les Enfants qui s'aiment unforgettably on his 'Montand Chante Prevert' album. But what of the movie itself. It started with one strike on it; Jean Gabin and Marlene Dietrich, for whom the two leading roles had been tailored by Prevert, ankled shortly before shooting commenced so Carne tapped the inexperienced (in acting) Montand and the justifiably soon forgetten Nathalie Nattier as deps. As if that weren't enough the film was packaged as the most expensive ever made in France so expectations were high. We now have to consider the climate against which it was shot and made. We're talking 1946, lots of uneasiness in the air concerning collaboration, black marketeering, etc. Prevert gives us a fantasy - Montand meets a bum on the Metro who claims he is Destiny personified and predicts that Montand will meet later that same day the most beautiful woman in the world but after one mayfly moment he will lose her again - but a fantasy laced with the realism of black marketeering, post-war austerity, hints of collaboration. It was, arguably, the wrong theme at the wrong time and the egg it laid was such that it broke up the partnership of Prevert-Carne (who had just come off 'Les Enfants du Paradis') who had invented the concept of poetic realism and given the world such gems as Le jour se leve, Quai des brumes, les visiteurs du soir, etc. Seen today it is much easier to concentrate on its strenghs and delight in the first fledgling steps towards 'Great Actor' status taken by Yves Montand. In sum: a gem. ten stars, no question.

Paris in December of 1945: Liberation, but the war goes on and people scramble to live in a frozen world. Yves Montand takes the metro to tell a friend's wife that he died six months earlier, only to find his friend there. They celebrate, they talk, we are introduced to the usual cast of eccentrics in Marcel Carne's small slice of magical realism and Montand meets the most beautiful girl in the world, Nathalie Nattier, and her traitorous brother, Serge Reggiani.

The cast of supporting characters is up to Carne's usual standards, including Jean Vilard as a tramp who thinks he's destiny, Pierre Brasseur as Miss Nattier's despised husband, Saturnin Fabre -- whom I first encountered in a Max Linder short from 35 years earlier -- as a grasping local junk dealer..... but why go on? Almost everyone is fine, except for the three actors at the center of this movie: Montand, Nattier and Reggiani, all of whom simply don't measure up.

Perhaps this is because the Montand and Nattier roles were originally written for Jean Gabin and Marlene Dietrich; when they dropped out, the roles had to be recast and the results were... unfortunate. Neither actor could project the world-weary gravitas required, and the entire movie, which might have been magnificent, is merely very good, carried by the supporting cast. Yet it makes one wish for the movie done right.