In 1942 in German-occupied Paris, Henri-Georges Clouzot ( The Wages of Fear , Les Diaboliques ) wrote and directed a film under the production control of Continental Films, a German-controlled French film production company. It stood as the sole authorized film production organization in Nazi-occupied France. The film was released in 1943.
The result was what is widely regarded as the first Film Noir (or to some, a “proto-Noir). Clouzot tells the tale of a small town in France wracked by distrust, venom and overall moral and ethical collapse at the hands of a anonymous poison-pen letter writer, determined to expose publicly the hypocrisy and dark secrets of all those in the town. Based on a true event that occurred in 1917 in Tulle, Clouzot managed to slip a critique of Occupied/Vichy France and the culture of informants past the German censors; a portrayal of a France turning inward and destroying itself. The censors became aware of what had occurred after release and then worked to suppress the film which they presciently saw as a criticism of an oppressive governance with informants as the primary tool to ensure compliance.
After the war, Clouzot, the actors, and the film came under attack. The Gaullist Right was insulted by the messages conveyed by the film; that in the French countryside, all was not well during the war as the populace was corroded by the atmosphere and occupation and were not stoic patriotic Frenchmen, aiding the resistance heroically. The French Left slammed the film for the same reasons along with the intimation (via one character in the film) that the Communists had contributed just as much to the moral/ethical erosion pre-war and were engaged in the same tactics via resistance informants used by the Occupation. Both sides accused Clouzot and star Pierre Fresnay of being collaborationists for even deigning to release a film via Continental, leading to the film being largely banned in France until the late 60s by Right and Left pressure.
The film is a taut, pressure cooker. The letters at first appear to be dealt with almost humorously, but as the accusations mount, the atmosphere of distrust and corrosive hate become more and more evident. An excellent whodunnit, the identity of Le Corbeau (translated as “The Raven” or “The Crow”), the writer of the letters remains in doubt, plausibly, until the very end of the film, and even then, there is a shred of doubt as to whether we really know what happened. Marvelously shot, with the cinematography slowly growing darker to reflect the darkening atmosphere, the performances are suburb. And at the end we are left wondering if it is only the basic, non-ideological moral center of the wronged peasant women of France who can redeem the situation; all other institutions and intellectual trains of thought having been corrupted. It is widely considered a masterpiece today.
Today, the term “Le Corbeau” in France has become so synonymous with a malicious informant that it is used today in any such case in France (the letters surrounding the infamous murder of Grégory Villemin, the Clearstream Affair, to name a couple).
In this time of doxing, Social Media warfare, public shaming and calls for cancellation and/or restriction of the artist’s creative freedom from every ideological stripe, I am sure the film has lost all relevance in the Age of Pixels.
The Forty:
The Sixty:
The Eighty:
“Since this whirlwind of hate and calumny started, all moral values have suffered, @Buckaroo.”
