L'ARGENT (Bresson, 1983)
Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date July 11, 2017
Review by Christopher S. Long
An old man walks down the street while
reading a newspaper. He passes by a parked car in which our
protagonist, Yvon (Christian Patey), sits quietly and looks straight
ahead. Several police cars speed by, sirens blaring. The old man
continues walking until he sees three men, presumably police
officers, crouching behind their cars, so still they could be
sculptures. The old man hurries away. Across the street, another man
(who we can't see clearly) walks out of a bank, holding a woman in
front of him. One of the crouching men very deliberately aims his
gun.
Cut back to Yvon as he sits in his car
still staring blankly. A single gunshot rings out off-screen, but if
Yvon hears it, he does not react. The robber retreats cautiously back
into the bank - who fired at whom and why doesn’t anyone seem to be
panicking? Cut back to Yvon once again as a volley of gunshots
rattles off-screen. He reaches deliberately for the ignition and
starts the car. Hold on an extended closeup of Yvon’s hands (it's
always hands with Bresson) on the steering wheel as more sounds play
out off-screen: shouts, police whistles, etc. We finally cut to an
exterior shot of Yvon’s vehicle as a police car pulls alongside
him. Yvon, his expression still blank, shifts the car into drive and
peels out.
It’s the strangest, most subdued bank
heist you’ve ever seen on film, and it is also a text book example
of the idiosyncratic style of the great French director Robert
Bresson. At least three quintessentially Bressonian features are on
display here. First, there's Bresson’s oft-discussed approach to
acting. He employed non-professional actors, whom he described as
“models,” and trained them to perform as automatically and
mechanically as possible, often using multiple takes to wear them
out: the goal was for the models to act without inflection, often
resulting in the stoic, passive “Bresson face.” (For more
discussion of Bresson’s use of models, please check out my review
of “Au hasard Balthazar”.)
Second, this scene offers an
instructional lesson on Bresson’s revolutionary approach to sound.
For Bresson, sound and image are often redundant, and if the two work
together they do not necessarily reinforce each other but sometimes
cancel each other out. If a sound conveys the essential meaning of
the scene, there is simply no need to show a similar image as well.
Therefore, when we hear the volley of gunshots and the whistles, we
do not see the police shooting at the robbers, but rather Yvon’s
hands as they rest limply on the steering wheel as if awaiting
further instructions from their master. As for what precisely occurs
at the bank, we are left to wonder - in Bresson’s view, the ear is
more imaginative than the eye, and sound is not merely the bastard
child of image.
Third, Bresson’s emphasis on economy
and precision (“L’Argent” runs at just 81 minutes) is evident
in this scene. Bresson ruthlessly stripped away all extraneous
elements from his films, until he was left with only the essential
elements required to tell the story. After Yvon speeds away, we see a
brief car chase which Bresson conveys by two primary images: Yvon’s
feet as they switch from the accelerator to the brake, and a shot of
the police cruiser as seen in the side mirror of Yvon’s car. Cut
back and forth between these two shots a few times and… there’s
your car chase. It is also worth noting that this is not merely
economical from an artistic point of view but from a pragmatic
perspective as well - Bresson seldom worked with big budgets.
These three elements (among others)
defined Bresson’s films for the bulk of his career and combined to
produced one of the most distinct, hermetic, and endlessly
fascinating bodies of work in all of cinema. If Bresson had not
perfected these techniques (how is such a thing possible?), he had
finely tuned them by the time he directed “L’Argent” (“Money”)
in 1983 at the age of 82, and it was the last film the French master
would ever make. Bresson, who died in 1999, intended to continue
directing, but was unable to secure financing for his long-planned
adaptation of the Book of Genesis, and he unofficially retired by the
end of the 1980s. Fortunately, Bresson’s final film is also one of
his greatest.
“L’Argent” is loosely based on
Tolstoy's short story “The Counterfeit Note” which also
translates as “The Forged Note” or “The False Coupon.” The
film adaptation, updated to contemporary France, begins with two
young men who pass off counterfeit bills to a local photography shop.
The store owners discover that the bills are forged, but don’t want
to get stuck with the loss so they, in turn, pass them on to Yvon
Targe, the young man who delivers heating oil to their store. After
Yvon is caught with the counterfeit money, he returns to the store
with the police in order to prove his innocence, but the owners
pretend not to recognize him. From this point, Yvon’s fate is
sealed and his situation degenerates from bad to worse to
unspeakable.
“L’Argent” traces the spread of
evil (flowing by the same route as capital) from its first flowering
to its final violent explosion. As the counterfeit notes change
hands, they leave destruction in their wake and nobody escapes fully
unscathed. In the opening scene, a young man asks for a handout from
his father; in the climactic scene a homicidal Yvon has only one
question to ask: “Where’s the money?”
Bresson believed in predestination (or
maybe not – it's a thing critics have often written but it's a lot
more complex than that) and Yvon is an innocent victim fated to be
laid low by circumstances beyond his control. He is not merely
falsely imprisoned but is actually transformed by the system; once
released from jail, he decides he might as well become the monster
everyone thinks he is.
Bresson’s films are often considered
to be pessimistic and grim, but “L’Argent” ramps that dark
vision up to a new level. In many of Bresson’s films, the
characters achieve a kind of grace or even redemption by way of their
suffering, but there is little, if any, sense of redemption in
“L’Argent,” the ending of which is one of the bleakest notes in
cinema. Except maybe in “Au hasard Balthazar.” Here you can
choose from two Bresson quotes: one in which he described himself as
a “jolly pessimist” and another in which he rejected the dourness
ascribed to his vision: “You are confusing pessimism with
lucidity.”
Like most of Bresson’s films,
“L’Argent” accumulates its remarkable affective power through
its puritanical restraint. Yvon remains an opaque figure with a blank
expression even as he transforms from an innocent working class man
into a remorseless killer. We could easily imagine the Hollywood
version of the same story with a classically-trained method actor
raving and gibbering and chewing the scenery with dramatic music to
underscore the transition, but Bresson does not pursue that route.
Nor does he linger on any of the typical gory elements. As he does in
the car chase, Bresson simply picks a few objective details and
deploys them to convey an entire scene. Bresson’s tendency to elide
the main action is so pronounced in “L’Argent” that even an
attentive viewer might miss altogether the fact that, in one
sequence, Yvon murders two hotel owners. The ending is all the more
potent and unnerving because of the sense of clinical detachment
cultivated by Bresson; we are all invited to consider the proceedings
with the dispassionate eye of a coroner rather than as a sympathetic
and involved viewer.
We do not quite know why Yvon does what
he does or why he selects his victims. Bresson’s cinema is one of
surfaces, not psychology – which is to say it's grown-up cinema.
Character is revealed only through behavior, not through exposition
or analysis. There are no “character moments” offered as a sop to
the audience, and Yvon’s sudden decision to cross the line into
violence comes as a shock as we have not been prepared for it as we
might expect. Bresson provides the what - the viewer, if he or she
simply must, provides the why.
Video:
“L'argent” was released on DVD by New Yorker back in 2005 and as much as I love and miss that dearly
departed label, this Criterion 1080p upgrade puts the old transfer to
shame, and then some. The difference is considerable that I've
decided to post the Criterion release as a separate review instead of
just adding sections to my old New Yorker review.
The film is presented in its original
1.66:1 aspect ratio. “This new 2K restoration was undertaken from
the 35 mm original camera negative” and the improvement in the
high-def image reveals much more detail while also providing warmer,
more naturalistic colors. It's hard to imagine the film ever looking
any better than this on home release.
Audio:
The linear PCM mono track is crisp and
a very welcome upgrade that highlights Bresson's meticulous sound
design, from the loud snaps of clothespins to the whining of a dog.
Just as Bresson suggested sound could be more important than image,
this audio upgrade may be more important than the sharper picture.
Optional English subtitles support the French audio.
Extras:
Kent Jones's commentary track on the
old New Yorker DVD may be my favorite commentary of all time, and
it's a great disappointment Criterion didn't include it here. Perhaps
there were licensing rights. Jones's commentary is so exceptional I
would still recommend the New Yorker release, even with its inferior
transfer, solely for his contribution.
However, as sorely as Jones's
commentary is missed (and not replaced by any other commentary
track), Criterion has included what may be their best extra of the
year, a 50-minute visual analysis by critic James Quandt. In
“L'argent, A to Z,” Quandt covers an astonishing array of topics
while somehow managing not to skimp on anything, providing an
essential primer on Bresson's unique working style and philosophy,
touching on Bresson's emphasis on sound (silence) and his various
artistic influences, and so very much more. If you're looking for an
informative and accessible introduction to Bresson, Quandt's essay is
your go-to choice.
The disc also includes a May 16, 1983
press conference (30 min.) at the Cannes Film Festival, including
Bresson and most of his cast. He is typically elusive and absolutely
magnificent. The only other feature is a very short (26 sec.)
trailer.
The insert booklet includes a new essay
by critic Adrian Martin and a transcript of a 1983 interview with
Bresson conducted by critic Michel Ciment.
Final Thoughts:
Twelve years ago, I asked if “L'argent”
was the greatest final film by an esteemed director. I suppose “Eyes
Wide Shut” is a serious contender, but there's no need to choose. I
had some vague concerns when I screen “L'argent” for a film class
a few years ago, but my students were blown away, which affirms both
their taste and Bresson's accomplishment. How much do I love Bresson?
Sometimes I think both that “L'argent” is my favorite film and
yet not even my favorite Bresson. Yes, he's so great he generates his
own paradoxical field. And he's even greater than that. This
Criterion release is a bit light on extras, but the Quandt essay is
sensational and the high-def transfer a thing of beauty.
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