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

Bonjour Tristesse (Otto Preminger, 1958)

Breathless and From Here to Eternity couldn’t be further apart. While one is an iconic feature of the trendy French New Wave, the other is an Oscar-winning “American” classic, steeped in US tradition starring – amongst others – Frank Sinatra. Bonjour Tristesse, starring Jean Seberg and Deborah Kerr (from each film respectively), almost pits these two conflicting attitudes against each other. The two characters are connected by playboy Raymond (David Niven) – he and his daughter, trendy Cécile (Seberg), lived a carefree life whereby both could “breathe in” the air each morning and romance who they please. This was until strict fashion-designer Anna (Kerr) arrives and Raymond deeply falls for her changing the lifestyle Cécile enjoyed so much. Told in flashback, we know that Cécile and Raymond are not as close in the future and Anna is nowhere to be seen – but crucially, Cécile is cold-hearted and loses her romantic and playful energy, but we don’t find out why until the final moments connects the dots.

Directed by Otto Preminger, Bonjour Tristesse is based on a novel by Françoise Sagan, and manages to constantly frame and reinforce the differing relationships between the characters. The structure of the film automatically demands comparison between the natural and relaxed atmosphere of St. Tropez, filmed in glorious colour (something the re-mastered version only enhances), while the bookends of the story are cool, black and white, in Paris. Busy Parisian parties and restaurants combined with large cars and stylish dresses – opposed to the French Riviera whereby loose shirts and swimming in the sea is the order of the day. Characters seem to contrast as Cécile and Anna represent the tradition and change; old and new – Cécile, with the cropped hair that would only lead to countless imitators in the sixties; Anna, expecting Cécile to study and proud of the” safety” of marriage. Raymond and Cécile don’t see a value in education – while Anna does. Cécile and Philippe (Geoffrey Horne) find each other secretly and marriage – to Cécile – is a ridiculous prospect (though not to Philippe). These dynamics continue throughout, assembling ideas about class and gender; relationships and attitudes. Considering Anna and Raymond’s relationship hinge on their engagement – the dismissive and pessimistic attitude towards marriage from Raymond’s ex-girlfriend Elsa (Mylène Demongeot) balances out these traditional ideas of love with more liberal notions.

It is truly tragic that Bonjour Tristesse, translated as “Hello, Sadness”, gained only mediocre attention at the time of its release in 1958 – two years before Godard’s À bout de soufflé turned Jean Seberg into an icon of the 1960’s. Indeed, though Preminger was a demanding director – often reducing Seberg to tears – the characterisation of Cécile is fascinating. She is conniving and plots to ruin her Father’s relationship – but her voice-over is so clear, it sounds as if she doesn’t realise how heartless she is becoming. Playing a 17-year old, the bottom-line is her maturity – and the innate lack of awareness of a teenager simply overpowers what is right and wrong. Then again, her “plot” could be considered a test for Raymond to prove his love to Anna; a test he (very easily) fails. In any case, again, we are wrapped into the fascinating characters of the film again and the differing philosophies of each character. Quentin Tarantino once explained how Jackie Brown was all about characters – and characters you simply wanted to spend time with. Bonjour Tristesse manages to capture this effortlessly, as spending time on the Riviera with Jean Seberg, David Niven and Deborah Kerr is my idea of a good time – and something I will revisit again.