Saturday, 22 June 2013

Jewish Faces in French Films Part 3

Part 3

The discussion of major French films containing Jewish faces continues.  The theoretical discussions will be taken up soon.
           
François Truffault’s The Last Metro came out in 1980 and deals with a director forced into hiding in his own Theatre de Montparnasse in Paris during the German occupation.[i] Lucas Steiner, placed by Heiz Bennent, lives in the basement where he listens to rehearsals of the plays being produced and passes on his directorial comments through his wife to the nominal director.  Madam Marion Steiner, played by Catherine Deneuve visits him regularly and tries to keep his courage up, while the Nazi menace closes in more and more on him and other Jews left in the Nazi-occupied territory of northern France.  Because of his celebrity status and his strong Polish-Yiddish accent, Steiner cannot risk staying in public view, and he and his wife have let it be known that he escaped to either the Free (Vichy) Zone in the south or already entered Spain.  A few characters in the film wear the infamous Yellow Star to indicate that they are Jews: a teenage girl enamoured with the theatre who risks coming out after curfew to see the play at the Steiner theatre, a fireman who stands in the wings in case of an emergency, a young actor desperate for a job.  None of them look or sound different, which makes a mockery of the off-centre remarks and radio comments about the official way to recognize a Yid.  Lucas himself teases his wife by pretending to put on a large rubber nose to disguise himself for a hoped-for dash into free territory, before the news appears in the newspaper that the Germans have invaded the south, thus cutting off that avenue of escape.  He ridicules the “lies” in books he reads which state that Jews seek to rob France of all her most beautiful women, as he gives Marion an intimate knowing look.  In other words, there is a constant, subversive contrast between the racist propaganda about the Jews, as well as older anti-Semitic stereotypes in France, and the reality of members of the Mosaic faith long assimilated into the nation and those more recent immigrants from Central and Eastern Europe. 
            Yet even when the collaborator Daxiat, the unctuous critic played by Walter Slezack, gives a bad review to the play put on by the Montmartre Theatre, and particularly stigmatizes Madam Steiner’s role as one pandering to a supposedly typical Jewish nihilism, the film does not address the nature of Jewishness or Judaism, other than to argue that Jews neither look, act or sound anything like the negative stereotypes.  Unmarked by the Star of David, the male or female Jew is indistinguishable from the ordinary French citizen or other European migrant.  There is no special outlook on life, no set of alternative moral or spiritual values, and certainly no particularities of dress or food preferences—in fact, much is made of the large ham Marion Steiner buys on the black market to keep her husband well-fed in his cellar rooms under the theatre’s auditorium.  Only once does Lucas use a Yiddish term, referring to the others in the cast as goyim, a word Marion also uses to show that this is part of their playful love language, not an inappropriate dropping of the mask worn by an essentially unassimilable outsider.  Rather than playing on conventional typologies as a shorthand in character development during The Last Metro, Truffault seems to go out of his way to deny their existence.[ii] 
            There is something similar that happens in both Au revoir les enfants and Un secret, both of which films again play with the need to hide the Jewish identity of their main characters, and when those secret identities are made public to show that there is nothing essentially or racially distinct to distinguish them from other ordinary people around them.  Whether it is a class of children in a Catholic school who all look, sound and act alike, except when the Nazi round-up begins and one of the religious teachers reveals the hidden identity of the Jew or a young boy learning why his parents and neighbours seem to be hiding something fundamental from him, some aspects of his parents behaviour and attitudes only to discover that they were Jews forced to suppress their former lives and ambitions in order to survive—and especially that there was another child bearing his own name who disappeared during his parents’ escape to the Vichy Zone in the south, as well as of his biological mother. 
           Louis Maille’s 1987 film Au revoir les enfants has a high degree of autobiographical content, with the script mostly by the director himself.[iii] It is reshaped sufficiently, however, to be a work of art and an intelligent argument on the nature of childhood friendships.  Not only do the young boys at the heart of the picture, Jean Bonnet the Jew being hidden by the priests and working in the kitchen and Julien Quentin the snobbish and arrogant Catholic pupil learn to respect one another for aspects of their characters at first unseen by the other and by themselves, but the role of the priests and servants in this Catholic boarding school become deeper and more complex as the threat of the occupying Nazis impinge on their lives.  It is more than a question of appearance and reality, with the Jewish boy indistinguishable to the others until the climax of the film, but the problematic question of difference altogether, whether of religion, nationality, class, or social function.  Julien begins to note differences about the new boy, such as his failure to participate in the Catholic services, his not eating certain foods, and his secret prayers with candles.  On the one hand, then, these differences are private and seem to be non-essential to the identity of the newcomer; on the other, they raise questions to the adult spectator of the film who knows through his or her own knowledge of the period forty years prior to the showing of this film and by awareness of the fact that a nation can be constituted by people who do not all think, feel, speak, act or believe alike.  This awareness of differences no longer abstract or theoretical but made vital by the experience of the Holocaust through which, if not each individual in the audience has gone through during the Second World War, then by belonging to a nation that has been tested by that experience as a group and not only always come up to the ideals which everyone would now like to believe he or she should attain.
            Rita Kempley, writing for the Washington Post, called Maille’s film “an epitaph to innocence.”[iv]   But she shows how the director has shaped the action to reveal more than the problematic nature of friendship in wartime and under occupation.  The two lead boys, Julien and Jean, come closer to another even as they both misread the full evil of the threats that close in on the school and on themselves.  When the full extent of the danger does begin to dawn—it breaks in with the taking away of the Jewish boy whose real name has been suppressed as part of the disguise he must don to stay hidden in the school—the helplessness of the friends to act, like that of the adults who run the academy, overwhelms them.  The epitaph is not to friendship: it is an epitaph of friendship that is ultimately powerless to resist evil.  Another contemporary reviewer, Thorn Hill, points out[v]that inside the fictional moment of the history the movie purports to represent neither the soldiers irritated by being brought out to the school before their sinner was finished nor the boys who do not realize the implications of the visit made by the Germans, there are more layers of tension presented.  The full story is narrated by a voice-over, not seen by the audience or by the schoolboys, so that even viewing the film in 1980 or afterwards creates a cognitive dissonance between the illusion and the reality.
            For the Gestapo agents who arrive at the school, the matter of difference is biological and political, already established if not at first recognizable: they are the secret police whose existence, activity and purposes are anything but secret.  The boys at the school, by virtue of their age and hence lack of experience, seem to be innocents, that is, naïve, just as they seem to be innocent of the crimes committed by them in the eyes of the state—to be a Jew in France in 1944 already is a crime by Nazi law, to harbour a Jew puts the school authorities and the boys who know or suspect the secret of the teachers makes them accessories after the fact and hence equally guilty, but there are other laws: there is the code of French honour based on loyalty to the principles of humanity enshrined in the themes of the Revolution of 1789, the basic decency of friendship and fellow-humanity, the morality of Christian love, all of which make informers criminals to the point of treason and passive acceptance of the occupiers’ authority a crime as well. 


NOTES

[i] Vincent Canby, “The Last Metro” The New York Times (12 October 1980) online at http: movies.nytimes.com/ movie/review?res=EE05E7DF1730BA2CA1494CCOB779 (seen 27/11/2011).
[ii] While he was born in 1932 as the son of Gaston Lévy, a dentist, and Berthe Kahn, it was not until 1968 that Truffault discovered this Jewish parentage, having been brought up by Jeanne de Monferrand.  His mother had later married Roland Truffaut in 1934, while his father wed Andrée Blum the year previous.  The revelation of his biological connection to a Jewish family came too late to influence his character or education.  Nor is it enough to explain Truffault’s break with fellow director Jean-Luc Godard over the Swiss-French celebrity’s vicious anti-Semitic (he called Truffault “un sae juif,” a dirty Jew) and anti-Zionist remarks (e.g., Israel is “a cancer on the map of the Middle East”).  Steve Poliak, “Jean-Luc Godard : Anti-Semite or non ? “ Jewish Literary Review (18 October 2010) online at http://www.jewishliteraryreview.com/2010/10/jean-luc-godard-anti-semite (seen 28/11/ 2011). Also see Souhail Flouh who discusses the outrage when Godard was offered an Oscar by the Academy of Film Arts; the Zionist Organization of America, as well as Israeli groups, asked whether an anti-Semite deserves such an honour. “L’Antisémitisme de Jean-Luc Godard récompensé d’un Oscar?” Identité juive  (9 November 2010) online at http://identitejuive.com/antisemitisme-de-jean-luc-god (seen 26/11/2011).
[iii] Basic details of this film at Au Revoir les Enfants, IMDb available online http://www.imdhb.com/ title/tt0092593 (seen 29/11/2011); further discussion continues in a series of comments appended to the original notice on the amazon.com blog section at  http://www.amazon.com/Au-RevoirpEnfants-Criterion-Collection/dp/ B0009HLCS8 (seen 29/22/2011).
[iv] Rita Kermley, « Au Revoir Les Enfants », Washington Post (14 March 1988) online at http://www. washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/style/lomngterm/movies/video/aurevoirlesenfants (seen 29/11/2011).
[iv] Thorn Hill, “A Magical Film About Friendship in a Terrible Time” online thornhillatthemovies.com (Venice, CA, 21 April 2006) and included in the Criterion Collection DVD of the film advertised on the amazon.com site. Hill mentions how “sad” the film is, and this comment like his other remarks mix some interesting insights with a generally superficial, sentimental approach.  “All thee different layers help to make the story more realistic”, he says, for instance, but this a film not just about friendship or courage, but about terrible ironies and tragic fault lines that persist in French society; and then, given the weakness of this review, in American society as well..
[v] Thorn Hill, “A Magical Film About Friendship in a Terrible Time” online thornhillatthemovies.com (Venice, CA, 21 April 2006) and included in the Criterion Collection DVD of the film advertised on the amazon.com site. Hill mentions how “sad” the film is, and this comment like his other remarks mix some interesting insights with a generally superficial, sentimental approach.  “All thee different layers help to make the story more realistic”, he says, for instance, but this a film not just about friendship or courage, but about terrible ironies and tragic fault lines that persist in French society; and then, given the weakness of this review, in American society as well.

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