Film Scenes that Stayed With me: Serie Noire

The boldness of simplicity

What I like about the opening of this masterpiece by Alain Corneau is how we learn so much about the main character without a single word being spoken. Not only without a word, but so effortlessly, without the director spelling anything out.

This is the equivalent in film of ‘show don’t tell.’

The first shot sets the tone, the composition and colour palette, instantly drawing us into the world of this man. A lonely world, a grim world. In the distance, the rumbling of a storm, a sense of danger but our character couldn’t care less. He doesn’t care about the rain, or the mud. He is, in fact, having fun, play-acting the gangster next to his shitty car.

I love the juxtaposition, the way the camera just refuses to cut away, for maximum awkwardness. The performance, one of Patrick Dewaere’s¹ best, is spot on and sharp. He is bonkers and fragile enough to drag us in.

At some point, he is about to draw a gun, but instead… he draws an old cassette player and starts playing some lousy music. He then starts pretending to play the saxophone and even dances with a woman, enthralled in his game. That’s when the mood switches. The sense of tragicomedy surfaces, delicate, like a drop of cream in black coffee. Here is a man-child, a lonely guy whom we already like, a Don Quixote of the industrial zone, a loser with a huge heart.

This is definitely a bold opening. There are only 6 cuts in total over a 2m30 scene, it’s slow. It’s very slow, yet it’s totally mesmerising.

In the space of these 2m30, the director has managed to:

• Deeply characterise his hero.

• Make us care for him.

• Create a sense of threat, a conflict (Dreams vs reality).

• Establish the tone and codes of the movie.

• Get the opening credits out of the way

Pretty good, eh? And these things are achieved without any attempt by the director to put himself forward or wave his skills in our faces. He is cheeky and commenting of course, but it’s as light a touch as the rain in that muddy puddle.

The performance is of course key. Patrick Dewaere pulls off what is truly a remarkable scene. It’s hard to bring across such a bizarre moment without being either too goofy or creepy. He somehow manages to tell himself that story; he is so real, so earnest. We buy it.

This scene is a model for me of how sometimes everything comes together nicely on screen. It just clicks, easy and effortless, just the way it should be.

The film is nice—although very dark, be warned. It's based on a novel by Jim Thompson called 'The Nothing Man'.

This is a new type of post I’m experimenting with. I’m thinking of going through a lot of old stuff. Old films, old music, I’ve always been someone drawn to non contemporary stuff somehow. Some people have even told me that my films remind them of old films. In other words don’t expect me to talk about the latest Netflix films.

If you have some cool scenes you’d like me to have a look, please share in the comments. I would love to see them.

1. Tragically, Patrick Dewaere, one of the most promising French actors of his generation, committed suicide aged 35, after years and years of problems with depression and drug abuse.