le dernier métro
Some spoilers ahead!
One more on the underground theme, François Truffaut's 'Le Dernier Métro' (1980) quietly evokes the underground as a place of refuge and relative safety in the fearful arena of occupied Paris in WWII. At the film's center is Catherine Deneuve in one of her great roles as the liaison between different worlds, aloof but struggling under tremendous strain.
The title ('The Last Metro') refers to the curfew which made it of vital importance for Parisians, and especially those going out to the theatre, not to miss the last train home. It also symbolizes the way Truffaut depicts the occupation, not through marching soldiers or overt violence, but in everyday details, influencing the lives of all. There are hints of resistance work, of escape routes to Spain, of betrayal and doublecrossing. Shot in subdued colors by Néstor Almendros, the Paris of 'Le Dernier Métro' is a dark and secretive maze filled with shadows of fear and paranoia, where trust is a dangerous thing and hiding becomes an instinct.
All this serves as the backdrop for a quite subtle story of artists trying to survive without compromising, and most of all, an ode to the romantic world of the theatre. One of his last films, Truffaut envisioned 'Le Dernier Métro' as the second part of a trilogy on the entertainment world. The first part was 'La Nuit Américaine' ('Day for Night'), about the film world, but the third part ('L'Agence Magique'), which was to be about the world of music hall, was never realized.
The story centers around the Montmartre Theatre, whose Jewish director, Lucas Steiner (Heinz Bennent), has fled the German occupation, leaving his wife Marion (Deneuve) to lead the theatre. A new play is staged, aptly titled 'Disappearance', in which Bernard (Gérard Depardieu) is cast opposite Marion.
However, as is soon revealed, Steiner hasn't escaped at all but is in hiding in the theatre's basement, where his wife brings him food at night. From his hiding place Steiner is able to secretly direct the play, while above ground the meddling of a fanatical censor threatens to close the theatre. This situation also leads to a curious 'ménage à trois' between Lucas, Marion and Bernard - reminiscent of Truffaut's earlier 'Jules et Jim' but much more understated.
Though this may be one of Truffaut's less experimental films - with only a residu of Nouvelle Vague playfulness - its form is unmistakenly selfconscious. It is a film about a play, with much of the story devoted to rehearsals and scenes from the play, and thus the film itself looks like a theatre play too. All its scenes, even the exteriors, have a staged feel. It is as if Truffaut deliberately shows the streets of Paris as set pieces. At the same time, though, the film uses distinctly cinematic devices to evoke its theatrical feel. If this sounds paradoxical, that's exactly what Truffaut was playing with.
To give one specific example: there is practically no shot in the whole film that shows the sky or direct daylight. Even outside, there are only streets and walls, boxing the characters in and adding further to the staged, claustrophobic atmosphere. But there are two significant exeptions. The first is when Marion walks past a German officer painting in the street; the camera lingers on his painting, which prominently and ironically depicts an open sky. The second example occurs towards the end, in a scene in a hospital with large windows that bathe the room in daylight. But this scene is revealed as part of a play, implying that the windows we saw were fake - or perhaps more real, in the dazzling illusion of the theatre.
Ultimately, these tricks of form are secondary to a very human story of people forced to act out dangerous war-time roles in which they can only survive by hiding their emotions. Perhaps not Truffaut's most spectacular film, but in a thoughtful way rewarding and uplifting.