Les Diaboliques

Released in 1955

Director: Henri-Georges Clouzot

When the wife of a nasty headmaster and his lover decide to murder him, all sorts of things go wrong. It’s a perfect setting, really; a small boarding school for young boys in rural France. And what could be cozier than a wife, her husband, and her husband’s live in lover? Viva la France, baby. Viva la France.

But while that may be every man’s dream, let me caution you…never underestimate just how pissed off a wife can get.

There’s trouble in paradise. The plan is simple enough. Kill the man and live happily ever after. But the body disappears. And then strange things begin to happen around the school. Are the children lying? Or have they really seen the dead schoolmaster?

The movie is in the original French, with subtitles. Don’t worry. As long as you can read, you’ll be just fine. It’s a great film that allows the anxiety of the women to bleed from the screen right into the viewer. I couldn’t help but empathize with these women; the wife with her Dorothy of Kansas braids and the lover with her severe eyebrows and bad dye job.

So do they get away with it? I know you’re dying for the answer, but this canary ain’t singing, Sugar. Get your own copy. Watch it. Love it. But keep your trap shut about the ending. Or else.

View the trailer here.

The Naked City....Undressed

The Naked City

Since I’m not a native New Yorker, I felt a little precocious about seeing the city “Naked.” But, as I also happen to be as voyeuristic as the next guy, I decided, “what the hell?” and I watched. Let me tell you…the sheer number of people milling around, getting on and off the subway, living their lives, eating their lunch…well, it’s staggering to a small town girl like me. I found myself wanting to shove my children out of the way, saying, “Move it, pal,” as I made my way to the fridge for a soda during viewing.

The Naked City was filmed on location in 1948, during the peak of the film noir era. At the time, “on location” movies were unusual (so I’ve been told) and this was fresh and new for America. For the first time, movie goers were allowed to see the city as it lived, making New York the biggest star of the film.

Other unusual features of this movie: there are no opening credits and not much of a musical score. But we aren’t allowed to feel disappointed. After all, a narrator jumps in immediately, warning us that this film is “unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.” And, in case we forget, he jumps in throughout the film from time to time, underscoring the amount of work it is for a department to catch a killer.

The movie was directed by Jules Dassin and produced by Mark Hellinger. Barry Fitzgerald plays the sharp Irish cop, comes with his own brogue and everything, assisted by Don Taylor as Jimmy Halloran…the leg man. Together they work to track down the killer of a blonde named Jean Dexter, found dead in her bathtub. Strangled. Chloroformed. With a big, black starred sapphire in her possession and a pair of men’s pajamas in the bedroom.

First of all, NOT film-noir. If I had to classify this movie…and I do…I’d say it’s an original docu-drama. We are taken along with the cops, none of whom have any skeletons in their closets, as they try to solve the case. They bring in suspects, one by one, throw the book at ‘em, and let ‘em go. But the list of potential murderers narrows and eventually, a crime ring is uncovered. There’s none of the self-destructive downward spiral for the main characters in this film…all of that takes place with the crooks here, so we don’t feel the angst and the devastation as the film reaches its climax.

But it’s got a halfway decent foot chase and it’s worth watching, if you get a chance. I wouldn’t run out and buy it…check your local listings.