005 - Thursday, January 5, 2017
Diabolique (Diabolical, but properly Les Diaboliques, The Devils), 1955, France. Dir. Henri-Georges Clouzot.
Alfred Hitchcock was the world's leading director of suspense thrillers for nearly four decades, and especially the decade of the 1950s, so when a hot new novel or script became available he usually had the ability to get to it first. And in this case, the novel Les Diaboliques was written by the same two men who would give Hitch Vertigo.
So how could a relatively unknown French director beat Hitchcock out of this movie?
It shows you the prestige and money that Henri-Georges Clouzot had after his previous film, yesterday's The Wages of Fear, became an international sensation. He optioned the rights ahead of Hitchcock, some say by hours.
Clouzot brings back his cinematographer from The Wages of Fear, Armand Thirard; his editor, Madeleine Gug; and two of his actors--his wife, Vera Clouzot, who had starred as Linda, and Charles Vanel, who had starred as Monsieur Jo. Yet Diabolique is a very different movie, with a different look, a different setting, a different tone, a different genre, and a different ending.
You could watch the two movies back to back and not know they were made by the same director.
You could also watch them back to back and not know that two of the actors are the same in both films. You could watch them a second time and still not notice.
They have transformed.
Whereas The Wages of Fear was a high-intensity adventure film attached to a character study of male bonding, Diabolique is a suspense drama that turns to horror.
Whereas The Wages of Fear takes place mostly in the outdoors (even that showdown I mentioned between Mario's roommate Luigi and his new friend Jo happens in an open-air bar), Diabolique, except for some action around the swimming pool, take place indoors, sometimes in darkness and in shadows.
What is going on?
And speaking of the swimming pool, remember the opening shot I mentioned on Day 2, in Gotz Speilmann's German film Revanche? Well, I'll bet you a nickel Mr. Speilmann saw this film. Got your nickel ready?
Revanche opens with a static shot of a lake with the trees upside-down in reflection. The credits fade in and out in complete silence with no music underneath. Just the open air.
Diabolique opens with a static shot of a swimming pool with the trees upside-down in reflection. The credits fade in and out with music.
I'll take my nickel now. If enough of you read this, well, then I will have a bunch of nickels.
The difference lies in the water quality of the swimming pool, and in the music, and in what lies beneath that water.
Or doesn't.
The lake water in Revanche is clean and represents forgiveness, "the sea of forgetfulness." Whatever may be thrown in it is gone forever, and the sinner is free to live again.
The pool water in Diabolique is stagnant, dark, murky, covered in some membranous film, and teeming with . . . something. Whatever has been thrown in it is gone too, but that is not a good thing.
It is terrifying.
The strident chords of composer Georges Van Parys hammer away at us--first all the strings, then a boys choir, then particularly the cellos. Uh oh.
What is more frightening than a body down in that swimming pool?
You will have to watch to find out.
But if you do, you will stop categorizing slasher films as horror. They are mere child's play.
Some critics are glad that Hitchcock missed out on this picture, because they believe his competitive nature drove him to his best work, that after Diabolique came out, he went out and made Vertigo, North by Northwest, Psycho, and The Birds.
You have a bathtub scene (or two) in Diabolique? Well, let me show you what I can do with a shower in Psycho.
You have someone obsessed with guilt over death in Diabolique? Well, let me show you what I can do with obsession and guilt and death in Vertigo.
On a milder note, when you watch Diabolique, you will be convinced that Charles Vanel's character, the retired police commissioner Monsieur Fichet, is a prototype for Peter Faulk's Columbo. Chesterton may have beat him to it with Father Brown, but he is fleshed out here, complete with trench coat, cigar, and bumbling mannerisms. If only he were not so slow.
Remember yesterday when I mentioned that Clouzot worked in Germany in his early years and was exposed to German expressionism. Well, he uses it here. In the bathroom. In the hallway. In the study. What is that typing noise? What is behind that door?
Watch this film. If you dare.
https://www.criterion.com/films/575-diabolique
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