Le Samouraï is a 1967 movie written and directed by Jean-Pierre Melville.
Le Samouraï tells the story of Jef Costello, an assassin who performs a contract killing but is then brought under police suspicion. Facing pressure from both detectives and his shadowy employers, Costello becomes a hunted man.
Alain Delon is a precise, quietly dynamic and occasionally intense presence throughout Le Samouraï but the greatest star is the easy, mellow sense of cool that drifts throughout the movie. Jean-Pierre Melville captures an environment that is effortlessly sophisticated, yet dreary and ominous.
The world of Le Samourai is also distinct in its loneliness. Costello inhabits a world chilled by Melville’s blue and gray hues. He is a professional assassin disconnected from the emotions of the world. His only tangible relationship is with Jane, a sometimes lover and convenient alibi.
It is Costello’s alibi – a marvel of efficiency – that proves his undoing. After executing a hit, he is seen leaving the crime and later brought in for a police lineup. He is initially cleared but his meticulous story creates suspicion for Francois Perier’s Le Comissaire, who is investigating the murder.
Costello’s isolation is striking. Because of the police involvement, he is now a threat to his underworld employers. He escapes a murder attempt, only to return home bloodied to his lonely apartment. His only companion is a chirping bird.
Once recovered, he tracks down La Pianiste, the piano player he encountered following the hit. Costello needs to know why she lied to the police – is she associated with the same people who want him dead? For a moment, we sense a connection forming – he caresses her, but it’s a menacing and ultimately fleeting gesture.
His only companion, Jane – the backbone of his alibi – is decidedly loyal to him. As the pressure increases, Costello goes to see her. He’s trying to determine if the detectives have broken her. She urges him: “I’ve never been in trouble because of you.” She asks: “Do you need me? He replies succinctly: “No.”
Le Samourai is moody and packed with style, but at its core, it’s a detective story.
Perier is outstanding as Le Comissaire. There’s an intensity and urgency in his character – traits that rival Delon’s icy demeanor. As the investigation progresses, Le Comissaire grows more ruthless – applying pressure to those surrounding Costello.
The scene where Le Comissaire and two detectives visit Jane is among the movie’s best. The tone subtly shifts as the two verbally battle. Both know the other’s agenda – it’s a fascinating poker game. He tries to drive a wedge between her and Jeff, demeaning her: “It’s strange. Girls like you are virtual prostitutes.” Later, he softens: “You need to be covered. I want to help you get out of this.”
Nathalie Delon’s Jane is exceptional in her limited scenes. She presents herself as demure, yet is perhaps the most hardened, skilled character in the movie. She allows others to express their motives, implying a quiet compliance – before asserting her unquestioned value. For a moment, it appears she will yield to Le Comissaire. Then, she coldly escorts him out.
The most enigmatic character is Caty Rosier’s La Pianiste. Rosier does a terrific job creating an aura of suspicion throughout the movie. She lies to the police about seeing Costello, then strings him along when he seeks answers. Her associations are vague but her allure is arresting. The movie’s ending only amplifies her mystery.
Melville exhibits his usual deliberate pacing in establishing Le Comissaire’s pursuit of Costello. His apartment is bugged before he is tracked through the Paris Metro in an elaborate, extended surveillance scene. Costello navigates through a network of plain clothed informants before escaping back to the scene of his original crime. It’s a thorough, patient setup that layers the tension enveloping him.
Interestingly, the most nondescript characters are the underworld figures linked to Costello – and in a sense, Costello himself. The bosses represent easily forgotten businessmen as they discuss Costello’s fate. His purported assassin is easily overwhelmed in the movie’s most physical scene.
Delon’s character is intriguing but ultimately one-dimensional – likely by design. Much of his acting is expressed through his penetrating, glassy eyes. He’s often machine-like in his movements and morally ambiguous. Yet, the appeal of Delon is his immaculate style. He’s a composite of noir cool – decked in a khaki double-breasted trench coat and perfectly placed fedora.
The BEST – Cuts and Swipes
Melville is criminally smooth in his transitions between scenes. My favorite involved the underworld bosses discussing Costello’s alibi, which immediately cut to Le Comissaire doing the exact same thing. Such a simple device instantly portrays the twin dangers Costello has to navigate.
The BEST Part 2 – Is That a Rule?
An underworld goon breaks into Costello’s apartment and holds him at gunpoint. He coldly responds: “I never talk to a man holding a gun.” “Is that a rule?” “A habit.” Costello uncorks his savagery in a condensed explosion – brutally beating the man and leaving him handcuffed to a chair.
The BEST Part 3 – Le Pianiste’s Apartment
This has to be the height of 1960’s French chic. There is an elegant, aristocratic feel blended with a funky, futuristic spin – all bathed in Melville’s hallmark cool shading.
The WORST -Lost in Translation
There is a direct reference to The Book of Bushido (at least interpreted by Melville) in the movie’s opening title, yet the connection between the movie’s title and main character is not a pure one. Or, at the least – it’s over my head. In a sense, the alibi itself must represent loneliness – although I’m not sure what deeper meaning lies beyond.
The WORST Part 2 – So What Happened to the Goon?
We know what happens to Costello – but what about the goon left handcuffed to a chair? Anyone?
FOX FORCE FIVE RATING – 4.25/5
Le Samourai is a classic Melville movie. Its coldly beautiful, oozes style and offers the kind of mechanical precision and sophistication rarely found in movies.
