Au Revoir les Enfants (Louis Malle, 1987)

One thing Roman Polanksi and Louis Malle have in common is World War II. Polanski, a survivor of the Holocaust used The Pianist to express his understanding, and experience, of the Holocaust. Malle, a French child of wealthy parents, saw the holocaust in a different light. Au Revoir les Enfants, set towards the end of World War II, is located within a small, private, boy’s monastery-come-school - and is partly-based on Malle's own life. “Priests and children” are all that reside within the walls of this old, cold building. They are isolated from the violence and fighting. They are hidden from the (at this point) secret concentration camps. It is no surprise that, as the anti-Semitic agenda of Hitler’s army reaches France, monks and priests use their peaceful locale to shelter Jewish children. Louis Malle’s poignant and arresting film doesn’t attempt to tackle the broad scale and vast history of the holocaust to make his point, opting instead to lead our attention through the eyes of a child. Privileged and Catholic, his semi-liberal parents made the wise decision to ensure his (and his elder brothers) safety by sending them off to this educational establishment.

Julien (Gaspard Manesse) is an ordinary boy. He’s not particularly different to the chatty children that run around the playground today. Though kicking each other with stilts would be a little risqué in this modern day and age. He joins the rabble in bullying the new kid, Jean Bonnet (as in “Easter Bunny!” *chortle, chortle*). But his passing comments and jibes soon turn into interest as the headmaster asks him to be kind to Bonnet (Raphaël Fejtö). His interest grows as, when the school is on high-alert, Jean is hidden away. In fact, a small group of boys are treated differently. At one point, Julien wakes up and witnesses Jean pray, with two small candles alongside his bed. The two boys bond together playing piano (and fancying the piano teacher). They read sordid tales of Arabian Nights and enjoy jars of homemade jam. Inevitably, the conflict closes in on the school and Jean’s true identity is revealed.

 Malle’s semi-autobiographical tale of growing up could be transferred to any age. The innocence that is lost when a child becomes an adult is ageless. Julien is a charming boy. Clearly he has friends, but he isn’t the gang-leader and so we can relate to him. He is curious about the world and is slowly forming his opinion as to what is right and wrong. But the time is fraught with unrest and this changes a generation. In a restaurant Julien, his family and Jean, witness two militia try to remove an older Jewish gentleman. The action of German soldiers (perhaps hoping to win the attention of the attractive mother) defending the man shape his conduct – as will the elder man’s proud silence. Additionally, it makes Julien aware of the dangers that lurk in the shadows against young Jean. Au Revoir les Enfants effortlessly depicts a climate whereby, outside the doors of the monastery, society is battling with itself. In the middle of war, the monk highlights the need to support one another, challenging the parents to use their money wisely to help those less fortunate. One Father walks out. The treatment of kitchen lackie Joseph too, will inevitably hold consequences. Julien simply soaks up these differing attitudes, and enjoys the company of his new found friend – but there is a dawning realisation that the world isn’t black and white.

Au Revoir les Enfants is an outstanding film, with a timelessness that justifies a renewed appreciation at the cinema. Marking the Holocaust Memorial Day, this is a reminder of the children who never had a chance to grow up. Those final moments, as a Gestapo officer (The inspiration for Christoph Waltz’s ‘Landa’ in Inglourious Basterds?) defines what a “proud German” is and we’re told the fate of the characters taken away, hits hard. And a brief narration sharply shifts into focus how close to our lifetime this happened. This is an important film, and without a single act of violence, manages to portray the brutality of war through the single tear of a young man.

Lift to the Scaffold (Louis Malle, 1958)

The stuck-in-a-lift plot device grabs your attention. The opening action-sequence of Speed; Emilio Estevez’s short-lived role in Mission: Impossible and the Shyamalan-penned Devil. The claustrophobic, metallic space automatically creates a sense of urgency and tension. The silver-box, hanging by a taught, tight wire seems so fragile and yet it remains the spine of the modern skyscraper – who would walk up so many flights of stairs and remain, effortlessly cool?

Louis Malle’s Lift to the Scaffold exploits this plot-device in all its cool glory. Rather than exclusively set in and around the “lift to the scaffold”, Malle playfully charts the knock on events of the leading man who has found himself stuck mid-floor. Interestingly, the title Ascenseur pour l'échafaud was translated to Elevator to the Gallows in the US, giving a deep sense of dread and danger that isn’t entirely accurate. The film is more playful and smoothly suave than the almost horror-focused US title dictates.

The tall building within Paris captures an industrialist, almost American, atmosphere. Julien Tavernier (Maurice Ronet), like James Bond, is due to commit a murder. His boss, and the husband of his lover is Simon Carala (Jean Wall). He tactfully informs his secretary to not disturb him ensuring an alibi is in place. He creeps to the floor above. He delivers a document, raising the gun. Carala doesn’t believe he will shoot. Tavernier shoots - and sets the scene to look like suicide. Sneaking back into his office, he exits and bids adieu to his secretary. Sitting in his costly car, he looks up. The grappling hook used to climb to Carala’s office remains. Swiftly, he leaves the car running and, back into the office he travels up in the lift until security clocks out and turns the power off. Tavernier is stuck, his girlfriend, Carala’s wife (Jeanne Moreau), awaits him at a nearby café. And two teenagers look at his expensive car with the keys left in the ignition. The car seeks to be stolen.

From the opening credits, you are gently carried into this moody, Miles Davis-scored, night of unplanned events. Murder, illicit affairs, cops and robbers, guns and a riddle you can’t resolve (How will he escape the lift?) pull you into this cinematic sleaze. Sleazy in the way a tall and dark-haired man will seduce a married woman – though illicit, you can’t help but enjoy the sinful seducer’s charm. As Florence Carala searches for Tavernier, we hear her thoughts. Has he killed her husband? Has he left with a different woman? Her narration is the only one we hear and we are drawn into her own fears and sense of panic. The teenagers, Louis and Veronique begin as scooter-thieves and are promoted to car-thieves early on. Akin to Godard’s À bout de soufflé, this crime-plot heightens the tension alongside the murderous beginning that establishes the lift-locked Tavernier.

Lift to the Scaffold moves at a fast pace, and considering the lead character is trapped in an elevator for two thirds of the film, it is surprising how engaging the film is. Florence’s romantic, wistful voice-over lingers in the air long after she has spoken. Due to the jazz-score, the coolness is intoxicating. Exiting the film, the soothing and infectious confidence that oozes out of every pore, will seep into your blood stream. Though Malle doesn’t truly fit amongst the “nouvelle vague”, the tone of the film will resonate and draw you into the genre. You will be clamouring for a copy of Godard or Truffaut; Rohmer or Rivette. Lift to the Scaffold is accessible and memorable and a must-watch for any film “obsessionnel”

Originally written for Flickering Myth and re-released on 7th February 2014