Blu-ray Review: Le Silence De La Mer - Jean Pierre Melville's Debut in HD!
A more than worthwhile release, from a director who is always deserving of renewed appreciation.
Rating: Jean-Pierre Melville's films, since his death, have continued to grow in critical acclaim. Such enthusiasm for his work usually rests upon his policiers: a series of cold and fatalistic crime pictures in which the bad guys were the good guys but still ended the film in a box. However, in addition to these he made several films depicting the French resistance during World War II, an issue close to his heart as a resistance fighter himself in his younger days. Le Silence De La Mer is one such release, and has been given the lush reproduction its place in cinema history deserves by the excellent Masters of Cinema series. It was Melville's first feature film, and drew upon the popularity of the novel of the same name, which was clandestinely written during the Nazi occupation of France. It is a film which, although not as refined as his later efforts, remains an intriguing exercise in tension and restraint. Melville plays with our expectations - much as he would continue to do - of right and wrong, and probes whether humanity can exist within the atrocities delivered by Nazi Germany. An educated German officer arrives at the home of an elderly French man, who lives with his niece. He is foisted upon them during the occupation, with the only sign of resistance available to his French hosts an impenetrable wall of silence. The officer Werner von Ebrennac (Howard Vernon) is a composer, and through the long winter nights spent in the house he regales the man and his niece with his most personal thoughts and desires: his admiration for the French, and their poetic sensibilities; his childhood and early adult years; his belief in the great good that will come from the unification of France and Germany. This apparently forthcoming marriage of nations is one he describes as that akin to the Beauty and the Beast fairytale. One in which Germanys power, strength and self-determination will be beautifully accompanied by the gentler, artistic sensibilities of the French. As the officer speaks eloquently about his dreams of the future, Melville and cinematographer Henri Decaé wring as much as possible from scenes which mostly take place in the confines of one room. A room in which two people stay seated and silent, while one roams from fireplace to bookcase. von Ebrennac is shown in a variety of different lights and angles; his face may impose upon the screen as he leans over the fire, the camera low-angled and the light flickering across his expression ambiguously. Yet, the next moment he smiles warmly at the niece - she careful not to avert her eyes from her knitting. The occupants of the house - as well as the audience - remain unsure as to whether this man is the harbinger of evil, or a kind man caught up in a truly horrific national delusion. The delusion and the naivety of the romantic officer are soon extinguished, as Nazi brutality continues on unforgivably outside this quiet house. We see the officer's horror at a list of names posted in the town of persons shot for treachery - all French of course. Like many a Melville protagonist, von Ebrennac is at odds with his society a lone ranger, adrift from general consensus. The fatalism that pervades Melvilles later works is also at play here. Rather than fight against the injustices of his Nazi superiors he much like Jef Costello at the end of Le Samourai, Melville's masterpiece accepts the hand that fate has dealt him and submits to the Nazi war effort, despite the silent efforts of his host to persuade him otherwise. There are no happy endings.