Quai des Orfèvres

Henri-Georges Clouzot's "Quai des Orfevres" (1947) stars Suzy Delair, Bernard Blier, Louis Jouvet, and Charles Dullin. The story takes place in post-war Paris, where an accompanist, Maurice Martineau (Blier) lives with his singer wife, Marguerite, better known as Jenny Lamour (Suzy Delair). An important man, Georges Brignon (Dullin) promises Jenny work, and because she's ambitious, she flirts with him. Maurice is an extremely jealous man, so he finds Brignon in a restaurant and threatens him.

Later on, Jenny tells Maurice she is visiting her grandmother, who lives in another town. This gives Maurice a good opportunity to bump off Brignon, especially when he finds the man's address on a piece of paper in the kitchen and realizes Jenny was lying. But when he gets to Brignon's house, Brignon is already dead.

Inspector Antoine (Juvet) is assigned to the case, and it doesn't take him long to realize that some alibis aren't very secure.

Wonderful film, with the excellent Juvet outstanding as Inspector Antoine, and an excellent performance by Simone Renant as a lesbian photographer, Dora, in love with Jenny. Delair, who was involved with Clouzot, is good as a lower-class woman who loves her husband but wants to get ahead in show business as well.

This is Clouzot at his best, with a witty script with some plot twists and a true Parisian atmosphere.

A nice, humorous mix of music hall (in the first third mostly) and police procedural mystery as the various suspects' stories start to collapse. The final exposure of the murder may come as a surprise if you don't watch closely. A gritty look at Paris of the time. You can ignore the final scene (the Hollywood ending). Louis Jouvet is best as the police inspector who seems to be just passing through, but is really on top of things.

Quai des Orfèvres is directed by Henri-Georges Clouzot and Clouzot co-writes the screenplay with Jean Ferry. It is based on the novel Legitime defense written by Stanislas-André Steeman . it stars Louis Jouvet, Suzy Delair, Bernard Blier and Simone Renant. Music is by Francis Lopez and cinematography by Armand Thirard.

When high profile business man Georges Brignon is found murdered all evidence points to jealous husband Maurice Martineau - Inspector Antoine takes up the case.

Following the backlash and fallout from Le Corbeau in 1943, Henri-Georges Clouzot wasn't allowed to make a film for four years, his return brought about Quai des Orfevres. Although a highly respected master of his craft, Clouzot was frowned upon for the dark approach to human nature in some of his films, whilst his treatment of the actors under his direction is legendary in a bad way. So how interesting to find that his comeback picture is actually one of his most accessible, very much thriving on human interest factors for literally everyone in the picture!

This a traditional police who done it procedural in core essence, one that does come with coincidences and contrivances, and yet the characters are so richly drawn, their lives so compelling, that the simplicity of plot is actually irrelevant. We are in post war Paris and the back drop is the world of theatre and nightclubs. Clouzot offers up in the fist instance some film noir staples, a possible femme fatale, gay love from afar, cuckold husband and a grotesque murder victim. Even the acts on the stage have a weirdness to them, Wheeling Winos - one with a paper mache head! Dogs that walk on their hind legs! How wonderful. The clubs are smoky, the streets dimly lighted for menacing atmosphere, Clouzot and Thirard have created a splendid moody world from which to spin the tale.

I'll take him for a ride, and what a ride!

Pitched at the front is Jenny Lamour (Delair), who is not beyond using her sexuality to further her stage career, which of course doesn't sit well with her highly jealous husband Maurice (Blier), a man clearly punching above his weight with Jenny. Ah but Clouzot is a crafty devil, he has let us into a secret that undermines us the viewer's expectations and that of Maurice. This keeps the question of who is the murderer - and the motive - as a constant intrigue. There's little slices of sexy sauce to tantalise, and the whole play developes into a sort of tragic comedy, but always the characterisations of the key players are earthy and dealing in foibles. Then Inspector Antoine (Jouvet excellent) holds court, a grumpy but stoically deceptive man of his work, film noir has itself another policeman of note.

Visually there's some treats, such as the dark shadowy walk that Maurice takes to Villa St Marceaux, arriving at the house which instantly looks like a noir nightmare. Better still is a sequence as we get towards the denouement, Maurice in a holding pen, a sexy lady in the pen next door, as bells ring out she is framed in shadowed bars whilst Maurice's mind begins to fracture. The craft on show is sublime at times, visually and on the page. I'm not over enamoured with Delair as an actress, but conversely Renant is quality and gorgeous into the bargain, while I think the ending should have really gone into black hearted territory. All told though, and this is Clouzot's least suspenseful film that I have seen, this is well worthy of time investment for lovers of classic French cinema. 7.5/10

The extraordinarily adorable Suzy Delair plays a statuesque performer obsessed with succeeding in the theater. Her husband and accompanist, played by Bernard Blier, is a composed but jealous man. When he finds out in a less than preferable way that his flashy wife has planned a rendezvous with a lecherous old businessman with the intention of advancing her career, he loses all control and threatens the businessman with murder. Now, at that point, I must stop describing the film to you because it skates on such thin ice with its twists, revelations, ambiguities and suspense that to imply any of it would endanger it. I am not sure how good or bad that is for this French police procedural emanating from the song- and-dance community, though it is certainly interesting that what we do know throughout is who did not do it. We just don't know who did.

The story depends upon the procedure of following clues, where ideal alibis fail and where cautiously created fabrications and deceptions disintegrate. Interestingly, this is a suspense film in which suspense is generated in spite of the knowledge one would traditionally think too much too soon.

Quay of the Goldsmiths is the least dark of Henri-Georges Clouzot's films. It's nowhere near as sinister as the shocking Les Diaboliques, as tragic as the riveting Wages of Fear or as eery as Le Corbeau. Maybe it is due to the vibrance of the dance halls and theater settings of 1940s France, which all work as the milieu of this crime thriller.

Clouzot both understands and approves of his characters, even the more rotten ones, where he has more of a vindictive streak with his other films. Where he may have had understanding for the scheming women in Les Diabolique or the truck drivers who sink to the level of risking horrible death in order to oust themselves from miserable life in The Wages of Fear, there isn't necessarily support or agreement on the part of the filmmaker, for these are characters who plainly made the direct decisions that determine their fate. All the characters in this more settling film have scenes and moments that endear us to them, even the harsh, cold detective played by Louis Jouvet, who worries about his young adoptive son amid all the trouble and despair that happens in his life at any time with the drop of a hat.

There is humor and unabashed sexiness, the latter mostly on the part of Delair, that neutralize the pressure to a degree. Clouzot was quietly practicing his craft, patient till he made his unrelenting later films, in which he would permit his audiences no pardon from the tension.

It takes a while for the scene to set, a subtle intriguing build up, just as you'd expect, but where is it going, this to-ing and fro-ing, as the alibis and excuses unwind and reset? To somewhere quite unexpected is the answer.