Customer Reviews

Le Silence De La Mer [VHS]

5 star:		(8)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

Le Silence De La Mer is a film that refuses to leave the viewer
unscathed. It gives us an inside look at certain variables of
War that cannot be captured by a photograph, drawn out by the
most skillful maker of maps, nor forseen by the most brilliant
strategist. It faithfully reveals that ultimately, the true
battlefield of Man is located in his own heart and mind.
The seemingly unspoken pact made by the uncle and niece to
never speak to (nor directly look at) the German intruder is at
once (strangely enough) reminiscent of the origins of a popular
form of Irish Dance. It has been said that ages ago, the occupy-
-ing British soldiers amused themselves by demanding that the
Irish spontaneously dance. This bit of sport could take place
in the marketplace, on a country road; in short, anywhere at any
time. In their inner outrage, the Irish chose to rob the dance
of genuine expression by holding their arms fast to their sides,
stiffening the upper body. What the uncle and the niece in the
film choose to hold stiff is their tongues.... In understanding
the vicissitudes of Life at War, their actions (or truthfully
their "inaction") are not remarkable. What is remarkable is
that what is designed to expose the inhumanity of the Nazi
Officer actually serves to reveal the depth of his humanity.
In our social interactions, we hastily apologize if we
find that inadvertently, we position our back to someone with
whom we are engaged in earnest conversation. Picture if you
will, literally addressing the backs of people with whom you
share the same roof night after night.....We do not readily
perceive at first what compels the Nazi Officer to begin to
speak in an engaging manner with those intent upon remaining
mute. We are bewildered and almost mortified that he talks
constantly to the couple with no response forthcoming from
either. Yet, we are aware that this visitor only seems to be
talking to himself. He speaks of music, literature, and heroes
with earnest conviction, all the while never letting himself
forget that he is supposed to be invisible.....By the time the
Officer reveals that he is by profession a Composer of Music,
we no longer hate him. When he comes face to face with the
harsher realities of the Nazi agenda, the devastation it leaves
makes it virtually impossible for the viewer too, to remain mute.

Jean-Pierre Melville's Le Silence de la Mer now seems an atypical work in light of his later, more widely-known gangster films, but this 1949 adaptation of Vercors' hugely popular WW2 novella can lay claim to having influenced both Robert Bresson and the Nouvelle Vague filmmakers both in terms of its style and its production. The book was written under an assumed name by Jean Bruller and published by a (literal) French underground press during the Occupation, and it's a surprising work to have been written during the war, not demonising its central German character but rather making a kind of plea for understanding - but not understanding the enemy, rather making him understand why even his best and idealistic assumptions are so wrong.

The story is simplicity itself: Howard Vernon's German officer is billeted at a French farmhouse where the owner (Jean-Marie Robain) and his niece (Nicole Stéphane) resist in the only way they can - by refusing to say a single word to him. Introduced as a figure out of a horror film yet transformed in the same shot into a less threatening figure the moment he crosses their hearth, he's not a stereotypical Nazi thug, but rather a more sensitive and naively idealistic figure. Soft spoken and polite, he never imposes his will on his reluctant hosts but rather tries to win them over through conversation, never losing his temper at their refusal to respond like a patient suitor. He dreams of a marriage between Germany and France that will take both nations to a higher level, achieving through the reluctant use of force what pre-war politicians failed to do with diplomacy. He doesn't want an empty conquest but, rather, wants France to come willingly to its embrace. He sees the Occupation in terms of Beauty and the Beast, with the proud Beauty destined through time to see that the ill-mannered Beast is not nearly so brutal as it appears. He even admires their silence, taking it as a sign that France is not some easily won over craven coward but rather worthy of Germany's attentions and the effort to woo her to its side. Yet after an ill-fated trip to Paris it is their silence that ultimately wins him over to the realization that the Beast is far worse than he imagined, a rapacious, soulless figure without redemption, eating away at his idealism with the same ingrained contempt with which it destroys the culture and character of those it conquers.

The film itself had a bizarre history: refusing to sell the screen rights, Vercors eventually agreed to allow Melville to shoot the film after the director promised to submit it to a jury of prominent resistance figures and destroy the negative if any were opposed to the finished film being shown. Made completely outside the studio system over a period of months as and when he could raise the money and film stock for a few days shooting, shot with a non-union crew and going through two cinematographers (Luc Mirot and André Vilar) who objected to Melville's unconventional lighting requests before striking lucky with Henri Decae (making his first fictional feature after working in documentaries), and filmed in Vercors' house in the very same room the author had shared with the real German officer who inspired the story, in many ways it's an exemplary no-budget film, a virtual three-hander that makes a virtue of its economy, although it's not a perfect one. There is far too much narration at times, particularly in the early scenes where what we can see is constantly described (Ginette Vincendeau makes a particularly unconvincing argument that this isn't the case simply because there could have been even more narration in the booklet accompanying the UK DVD) and the relationship with the niece isn't particularly well-handled: there's little sense in Nicole Stéphane's performance that she's trying to hold emotions back, and even small moments like her missing a stitch at a crucial moment in one of Vernon's monologues seems muffed in the execution.

Yet the strengths outweigh the limitations. The situation is a compelling one, the act of passive resistance more intriguing than the more conventional heroics of resistance cinema, and the minimalist treatment is often fascinating. In many ways the film is a bridge between the classic tradition of quality style of pre-War French cinema while heralding a more adventurous and stylised approach, with Henri Decae's often strikingly modern cinematography giving notice of why he would become one of the great cinematographers of French cinema with films like The 400 Blows, Lift to the Scaffold, Plein Soleil and several more collaborations with Melville such as Le Samourai and Le Cercle Rouge. Indeed, Decae's importance to the film cannot be underestimated: as well as being willing to experiment and at once be `anti-cinematographic' yet `classical' as Melville demanded (or to risk the film "looking like crap" as Mirot allegedly put it) he would even work on the post-production and editing of the film alongside Melville. To those unfamiliar with Melville's early work it's a world away from his later crime films (although a brief prologue with resistants exchanging a suitcase with copies of the book on a street corner offers a hint of what was to come), and it's not as powerful or accomplished as his masterpiece L'Armee des Ombres, but it's still a remarkably assured and accomplished debut.

Although it has to be said that the film works better on the big screen than the small one, the UK Eureka Masters of Cinema PAL DVD is absolutely stunning quality and can easily be recommended over the Russian and Korean DVDs: not only is it better than any of the theatrical prints available for years or Waterbearer's NTSC video release but, considering the technical problems that plagued its production, probably looks better now than it did in 1949. Aside from an interview with Melville expert Ginette Vincendeau, the DVD also includes an excellent 56-page booklet including and extract from her book on Melville about the film and, better still, Rui Nogueira's interview with Melville about the film from the long out-of-print 'Melville on Melville.'

Le Silence De La Mer is a film that refuses to leave the viewer
unscathed. It gives us an inside look at certain variables of
War that cannot be captured by a photograph, drawn out by the
most skillful maker of maps, nor forseen by the most brilliant
strategist. It faithfully reveals that ultimately, the true
battlefield of Man is located in his own heart and mind.
The seemingly unspoken pact made by the uncle and niece to
never speak to (nor directly look at) the German intruder is at
once (strangely enough) reminiscent of the origins of a popular
form of Irish Dance. It has been said that ages ago, the occupy-
-ing British soldiers amused themselves by demanding that the
Irish spontaneously dance. This bit of sport could take place
in the marketplace, on a country road; in short, anywhere at any
time. In their inner outrage, the Irish chose to rob the dance
of geunine expression by holding their arms fast to their sides,
stiffening the upper body. What the uncle and the niece in the
film choose to hold stiff is their tongues.... In understanding
the vicissitudes of Life at War, their actions (or truthfully
their "inaction") are not remarkable. What is remarkable is
that what is designed to expose the inhumanity of the Nazi
Officer actually serves to reveal the depth of his humanity.
In our social interactions, we hastily apologize if we
find that inadvertently, we position our back to someone with
whom we are engaged in earnest conversation. Picture if you
will, literally addressing the backs of people with whom you
share the same roof night after night.....We do not readily
perceive at first what compels the Nazi Officer to begin to
speak in an engaging manner with those intent upon remaining
mute. We are bewildered and almost mortified that he talks
constantly to the couple with no response forthcoming from
either. Yet, we are aware that this visitor only seems to be
talking to himself. He speaks of music, literature, and heroes
with earnest conviction, all the while never letting himself
forget that he is supposed to be invisible.....By the time the
Officer reveals that he is by profession a Composer of Music,
we no longer hate him. When he comes face to face with the
harsher realities of the Nazi agenda, the devastation it leaves
makes it virtually impossible for the viewer too, to remain mute.

An emblematic script shows us a long preamble where the silence plays an important place, being by itself another invisible actor. A nazi officer during the German occupation in a small French village, after a long speech about the universal values of the culture, finally when he is capable to revert the dark side of the coin, he is set to the Eastern Front, as a fatal irony or dramatic premise to let us think about a lot of issues.

Monumental and superb film. One of those you will never forget once it invaded your brain, senses and spirit.

The first film of melville, is definetly an essential one for WW2 and the european reistence in Europe, invaded by nazis during WW2. It gives an highly sensitive view about two characters who must welcome a German officer in their house. They finally decided to ignore him but either the French girl and the german officer fall in love. Bu t they can't achieve their passion in such a context. It finally ends... you should see the video to know it. This was acclaimed by the european critic and is still today one of the basis of the european building process as a piece of art and love between Germany and France.

Virtually the entire film is shot within the French house (the author, Vercors, own). With its shelves of French classics, the house functions as a symbol of French culture. At least the German officer who is billeted there views it as such. But then the German officer is overly fond of fairy tales (he admits to getting teary whenever he recalls the Beauty and the Beast), and his versions of things, romanticized as they are, are never quite in accordance with reality. The strange thing about the film though is that the old man and his niece, though initially cold and silent, warm up to the officer and his fantasy versions of international harmony.

Since this film is still so hard to find, when one does find it it is like acquiring a much-sought after blackmarket item, which is appropriate since the novel that the film was based on was circulated via the underground during the war.

Visually, this is not much to look at. Granted, the handful of scenes that take place in the city are welcome relief from the confines of the dark house, but the pleasure here is not primarily visual. Rather the pleasure is in the sparse first-person narration (the entire "story" is told through the first-person narration of the old man). Personally, I found the story itself intriguing but found it distracting that the old man looked so much like Geppetto (Pinochio's creator). I suppose this was intentional and purposeful and part of the film's resistance strategy/message: German "greatness" is a myth perpetuated even by the well-intentioned German, and is predicated on viewing other nations/peoples as weak and effeminate and incapable of self-rule. This same argument has been used by occupiers/colonizers throughout history, but here we see how easy it would be for the occupied/colonized to be lulled into believing it to be true.

Its also difficult not to note a tinge of criticism in Melville's portrayal of the old man and his niece. Stoic silence might be a form of strength but it does not change anything.

Jean-Pierre Melville's Le Silence de la Mer now seems an atypical work in light of his later, more widely-known gangster films, but this 1949 adaptation of Vercors' hugely popular WW2 novella can lay claim to having influence both Robert Bresson and the Nouvelle Vague filmmakers both in terms of its style and its production. The book was written under an assumed name by Jean Bruller and published by a (literal) French underground press during the Occupation, and it's a surprising work to have been written during the war, not demonising its central German character but rather making a kind of plea for understanding - but not understanding the enemy, rather making him understand why even his best and idealistic assumptions are so wrong.

The story is simplicity itself: Howard Vernon's German officer is billeted at a French farmhouse where the owner (Jean-Marie Robain) and his niece (Nicole Stéphane) resist in the only way they can - by refusing to say a single word to him. Introduced as a figure out of a horror film yet transformed in the same shot into a less threatening figure the moment he crosses their hearth, he's not a stereotypical Nazi thug, but rather a more sensitive and naively idealistic figure. Soft spoken and polite, he never imposes his will on his reluctant hosts but rather tries to win them over through conversation, never losing his temper at their refusal to respond like a patient suitor. He dreams of a marriage between Germany and France that will take both nations to a higher level, achieving through the reluctant use of force what pre-war politicians failed to do with diplomacy. He doesn't want an empty conquest but, rather, wants France to come willingly to its embrace. He sees the Occupation in terms of Beauty and the Beast, with the proud Beauty destined through time to see that the ill-mannered Beast is not nearly so brutal as it appears. He even admires their silence, taking it as a sign that France is not some easily won over craven coward but rather worthy of Germany's attentions and the effort to woo her to its side. Yet after an ill-fated trip to Paris it is their silence that ultimately wins him over to the realization that the Beast is far worse than he imagined, a rapacious, soulless figure without redemption, eating away at his idealism with the same ingrained contempt with which it destroys the culture and character of those it conquers.

The film itself had a bizarre history: refusing to sell the screen rights, Vercors eventually agreed to allow Melville to shoot the film after the director promised to submit it to a jury of prominent resistance figures and destroy the negative if any were opposed to the finished film being shown. Made completely outside the studio system over a period of months as and when he could raise the money and film stock for a few days shooting, shot with a non-union crew and going through two cinematographers (Luc Mirot and André Vilar) who objected to Melville's unconventional lighting request before striking lucky with Henri Decae (making his first fictional feature after working in documentaries), and filmed in Vercors' house in the very same room the author had shared with the real German officer who inspired the story, in many ways it's an exemplary no-budget film, a virtual three-hander that makes a virtue of its economy, although it's not a perfect one. There is far too much narration at times, particularly in the early scenes where what we can see is constantly described (Ginette Vincendeau makes a particularly unconvincing argument that this isn't the case simply because there could have been even more narration in the booklet accompanying the UK DVD) and the relationship with the niece isn't particularly well-handled: there's little sense in Nicole Stéphane's performance that she's trying to hold emotions back, and even small moments like her missing a stitch at a crucial moment in one of Vernon's monologues seems muffed in the execution.

Yet the strengths outweigh the limitations. The situation is a compelling one, the act of passive resistance more intriguing than the more conventional heroics of resistance cinema, and the minimalist treatment is often fascinating. In many ways the film is a bridge between the classic tradition of quality style of pre-War French cinema while heralding a more adventurous and stylised approach, with Henri Decae's often strikingly modern cinematography giving notice of why he would become one of the great cinematographers of French cinema with films like The 400 Blows, Lift to the Scaffold, Plein Soleil and several more collaborations with Melville such as Le Samourai and Le Cercle Rouge. Indeed, Decae's importance to the film cannot be underestimated: as well as being willing to experiment and at once be `anti-cinematographic' yet `classical' as Melville demanded (or to risk the film "looking like crap" as Mirot allegedly put it) he would even work on the post-production and editing of the film alongside Melville. To those unfamiliar with Melville's early work it's a world away from his later crime films (although a brief prologue with resistants exchanging a suitcase with copies of the book on a street corner offers a hint of what was to come), and it's not as powerful or accomplished as his masterpiece L'Armee des Ombres, but it's still a remarkably assured and accomplished debut.

Although it has to be said that the film works better on the big screen than the small one, the UK Eureka Masters of Cinema PAL DVD is absolutely stunning quality and can easily be recommended over this Korean DVD with optional English subtitles: not only is it better than any of the theatrical prints available for years or Waterbearer's NTSC video release but, considering the technical problems that plagued its production, probably looks better now than it did in 1949. Aside from an interview with Melville expert Ginette Vincendeau, the DVD also includes an excellent 56-page booklet including and extract from her book on Melville about thefilm and, better still, Rui Nogueira's interview with Melville about the film from the long out-of-print 'Melville on Melville.'

For the majority part of the 88 minutes long movie, there is only the German officer's monologue while the other 2 actors mouths shut all the time. While his speeches may be interesting, the movie cannot compare with the high quality of the director's later works such as Le Circle Rouge or Le Samourai.

Although this is a World War II war movie, it's also a relationship movie where only one character really talks. This character is a German officer foisted on a French man and his widowed daughter-in-law just after the Germans conquered France in 1940. If I remember correctly, the story was written in 1941 or 1942. It also examines what happens when good people work for bad causes. This was Jean-Pierre Melville's first movie.

There is nothing subtle about the message in this movie. It starts out with a gentle but blatant rebuke of Germans for allowing Nazism to take over. Even the "good" Germans like the German officer in his film -- a Francophile who is understanding enuf to tolerate the silent treatment given by the old Frenchman and his niece who have been forced to allow him to board with them.

The film also seeks to exonerate the majority of French people who didn't actively join the Resistance. It seems as if the two Resistance veterans Vercors (pseudonym of Jean-Marcel de Brullers, author of the story this film is based on) and Jean-Pierre Melville are saying that those who didn't give comfort while being forced to give aid shouldn't be considered complicitous. This consolation was much needed by the French population whose cultural memory of WWII was heavily tinted by shame.

The dramatic possibilities of this story are fascinating at first. The German officer (Swiss-born actor Howard Vernon) dressed in civilian clothes joins the French couple in the evenings by the fireplace and offers monologues exploring his motives and, as proof of his civility, ending each with a bow, saying "I bid you good night". But it's a difficult plot to sustain. Fortunately the film is relatively short and ends before becoming unedurable, and in a dramatically satisfying way.

This is Jean-Pierre Melville's first movie if you discount his short documentary on the 24 HOURS IN THE LIFE OF A CLOWN. He had the director's gift right from the first altho I thought there were weak directorial moments (especially the German's visit to Paris), the fault maybe of a slim budget. I wasn't fond the the cinematography by Henri Decaë, important contributor to the French New Wave who was making his first film as cinematographer -- but Decaë's and Melville's peak visual style would come with color (eg, LE SAMOURAÏ). Still, I prefer this and Melville's other very personal WWII films (LÉON MORIN, PRÊTRE and the utterly brilliant ARMY OF SHADOWS) to his derivative gangster films -- as enjoyable as they are.