Le Cercle Rouge (1970)

I have a bit of a blind spot when it comes to French cinema. I have not seen the French masters. Any of them.

Imagine my excitement, then, when Jean-Pierre Melville's 1970 thriller, La Cercle Rouge popped up, consistently, in my research into iconic heist films. Not only was I going to check off a legendary heist film, but I was going to dip my toes in the canon of a French cinema legend.

So, how was it?

I. What is It?

Corey gets out of prison, tipped off to a big score. By chance he hooks up with Vogel, a con on the lam. Both men quickly establish camaraderie, and decide to team up on a daring jewel heist. But Vogel is being hunted by Commissaire Mattei, a man who is clever and patient and willing to draw in his prey.

II. Dynamic

What struck me, immediately, about this film is how dynamic it is. The camera refuses to stay still. It pans and sweeps and practically dances around every scene, lending an energy to the entire film. Simple scenes between two seated men are enlivened by full 360 degree turns, and extended tracking shots.

Henri Decae's photography is brilliantly executed, expressive, and alive. Paired with Melville's sure-handed direction, the film flows and oozes style. It's not hard to see why Melville is a legend: you can see his style and technique echoed throughout the course of modern cinema. To see a film that feels so fresh and effervescent from the year 1970 is a bit of an experience.

III. That Heist, Tho

This film is famous for its heist sequence. It is a meticulously shot, dialogue-less thirty-minute sequence. Modern films fill their heist sequences with bombastic music, whip-lash dialogue and lush sound design. Melville dispenses with those trappings, but keeps all of the tension. You sit on the edge of your seat in abject silence, feeling every footfall and every squeaky hinge.

I don't want to spoil it. It is a thing that must be seen. Must be experienced.

Watch the damn thing.

IV. The Hunter

Legendary French actor Bourvil (yeah, dude has ONE name) plays Commissaire Mattei. And the man is a true hunter. He leaps out the broken window of a moving train, and pursues his quarry with single-mindedness. He never stops. He is methodical. He is committed. He also has a crew of beautiful cats at his home that he refers to as his "children."

Mattei isn't a blowhard. He isn't naive. He isn't dumb.

In one sequence he rushes back to his office to interrogate a suspect, but stops a few paces from his door, breathes deeply, calms himself, grabs his door handle, and waits. He only enters the office when he has settled himself. That's a wonderful character moment, and allows the actor to tell a lot of story without a word of dialogue.

While you root for the cons, it is hard not to feel drawn to Mattei. He is every bit their equal.

V. Not Afraid of Silence

Melville is not afraid of silence. The film's signature heist sequence occurs practically in a vacuum. The script is spare. The characterization is often physical, and established in long shots, allowing the actors to show and not tell.

You might not dig that, but the sheer audacity of it is impressive. That Melville pulls off such a long film (140 minutes, folks) wherein the characters say so little, is nothing short of a Herculean feat of cinema.

He even uses music sparingly, either allowing it to flit in and out diegetically (through an open door or window from a radio, etc), or only in the underscore when it enhances the drama. He allows Eric Demarsan's jazzy music to accentuate and enhance the drama onscreen, but never overdoes it or relies on it cheaply.

This is a quiet film. It is contemplative. It is not everyone's cup of tea.

VI. le Cool

This movie is cool, dammit. The suits are sharp, the overcoats are evocative of OG tough guy aesthetic, the night clubs are swanky and jazzy. Even Corey's silly mustache is fucking cool. And it all comes draped in cigarette haze.

And don't get me started on the gang's twinsy heist get ups: all matching corduroy pants, dueling blue track runner shoes, and those VELVET FUCKING FACE MASKS. Lordy. 

Colette Baudot's costuming is bold and stylish. Théobald Meurisse's art direction is clean and crisp. This movie may very well be guilty of style over substance, but when your style is THIS good, you get the benefit of the doubt.

VII. I Have Some Issues

Look, this movie doesn't need to be 140 minutes. I respect Melville, and his vision, and his attention to detail. But... Come on, man. Especially when you consider how absurd it is that Vogel and Corey just... randomly meet each other. And become friends immediately. There's a better way to do that, right? A more coherent way?

I'm sure there is a leaner, meaner cut of this film that is easily 20 minutes shorter. But... maybe it's less cool. And less French. Oh well.

VIII. Should You See It?

Are you a fan of cinema? Watch this movie. Are you a fan of the heist genre? Watch this movie. Are you a fan of style, and the art of cool? Watch this movie.

Miscellany

- Melville stated that he originally conceived the idea of the heist sequence in 1950, but after The Asphalt Jungle (1950) and Rififi (1955), he decided to shelve the idea. Coming back to it twenty years later.
- Bourvil passed away from Kahler's Disease, one month before the film's release. Melville himself passed away two years later in 1972.
- The epigraph that appears before the film, attributed to Buddha, was actually made up by Jean-Pierre Melville.
- John Woo wrote an essay for the film's Criterion Collection release.