A real piece de Resistance...

As part of the war movie genre, the heroic exploits of the Resistance have been a popular form of cinematic entertainment since the end of World War Two. The bane of the invading German forces, the Resistance always represented the ordinary man picking up arms against the dreaded Hun to defend their country. Whether it was booby-trapping panzers or smuggling escaped POWs and Jewish refugees to safety, many films emphasized their heroism to great effect. Exploits of the Greek, Norwegian and French Resistance have been put to good use in The Guns of Navarone (1961), 633 Squadron (1964) and The Night of the Generals (1967).

As great as these films were, the exploits of the Resistance has been pretty much romanticized and even parodied (for those who remember ‘Allo ‘Allo!). The reality was very different. They were ruthless killers who took no prisoners and treated those who had in any way collaborated with the enemy with cold-blooded hostility.

Although von Ebrennac knows his presence is unwanted, he does his best to ingratiate himself with his reluctant hosts by talking about his life (he was a composer before the War) and his love for France. Far from the arrogant, jack-booted German thug film fans come to expect, von Ebrennac is a cultured, well educated, much traveled and impeccably mannered gentleman with a great love of music, art and literature. He also has dreams that Germany and France will one day live together in peace. A sensitive chap who ended his relationship with his fiancé after she cruelly kills a wasp that stung her, he speaks of his hopes for a better future as the uncle (with his pipe) and the niece (constantly knitting) sit silently, refusing to comments but growing to respect this idealistic but naïve German officer.

It is only when von Ebrennac travels to Paris for the first time on leave does his illusions shatter.

It was also on the reading list of a French soldier and Dunkirk veteran called Jean-Pierre Melville. Melville was stationed with General Franco in London when he first came across the book (written in English). Such was the impact of the novella, Melville decided, on his return to France, to make a film version of the story.

But there was one slight problem; Melville had no movie experience other than making an amateur short about a clown. Nor did he hold a union card which made getting such a film into production extremely difficult, if not impossible since he did not own the rights to the novella. Such was Melville’s determination to get the book on screen he would not allow such trifles to hold him back.

With partial finance from Nicole Stephane, who, like Melville, was Jewish, and encouragement fro GTC Laboratories, who offered their services for free, Melville went ahead. Not being in the filmmakers union meant he had difficulty employing people, gaining distribution and accessing decent technical equipment although he scored a coup by getting a first rate cinematographer called Henri Decae on board. Most of the supporting cast were ex Resistance with Stephane and Melville’s wartime comrade Jean-Marie Robain in the lead roles.

When Bruller found out, he made an arrangement with the director regarding the finished product. If the writer hated the film, it was agreed that the negative would be destroyed. The film received a special screening for Bruller and a specially selected group of former Resistance fighters. Fortunately it was greeted with a favourable critical response from all concerned.

The film itself is not perfect. Melville’s lack of experience does show at times with some disjointed moments and naïve dialogue, but that aside Le Silence de la Mer is a quiet but unique and strangely disturbing film. Decae’s outdoor photography is fresh and bright and this makes a sharp contrast to the dark almost claustrophobic atmosphere of the old man’s house. The fact it was shot Bruller’s own home adds to the uncanny sense of foreboding.

What makes the film all the more effective is the fact that the German officer is the only character who speaks (the old man’s dialogue is only heard as an off-screen narrator). The performances of Robain and Stephane are rather subdued, but even their slight changes of facial expression work well within the confines of their environment.

What really gives the film its genuine heart is the outstanding performance of Swiss born character actor Howard Vernon. The son of a Swiss father and American mother, Vernon (real name Mario Lippert) trained as an actor in Berlin and Paris before making his professional debut in French review. Beginning his film career in France, his sinister looks got him cast as evil Nazis, something he hated doing but like Conrad Veidt before him, avoided the usual goose stepping sadists by playing them as educated, articulate men.

And with Le Silence de la Mer Vernon gets the chance to play a sympathetic German. Not surprisingly he grabs the role with both hands. Having almost all the dialogue, Vernon skilfully creates a masterful performance of a gentle, idealistic man who accepts his hosts’ resentment towards him, but holds high hopes of love and friendship, only for it all to be painfully destroyed by the own comrades.

Being able to speak several languages meant Vernon acted in films all over Europe as well as the odd Hollywood venture such as The Train (1964), What’s New Pussycat (1966), and The Night of the Generals (1967). But despite occasional forays into art house with Alphaville (1965) and Delicatessen (1991), Vernon earned his cult status as the ‘Peter Cushing of Eurotrash horror’. His presence and versatility were all too often the only saving grace of an otherwise dire horror production, many of which were made in association with the infamous Jesus Franco. He remained a working actor until his death in 1996.

Melville himself remained reasonably busy as a filmmaker. Regarded by many as the godfather of Nouvelle Vague, he was responsible for spearheading France’ s ‘New Wave’ cinema and influenced such luminaries as Francois Truffaut and Jean Luc-Godard. One of the great French visionaries, Melville was very much his own man. He continued working until his early death at 55 in 1973.

The DVD of Le Silence de la Mer is a special dual format edition that features new high-definition of the original aspect ration transfer, licensed from Gaumont. The film has new and improved English subtitles (optional), and a documentary and trailer. There is also a video discussion by Ginette Vincendeau, author of Jean-Pierre Melville: An American in Paris and professor of French cinema at King’s College London. A 56 page booklet is also available with the DVD. It features an article by Professor Vincendeau and an interview with Melville by Rui Nogueira, author of Melville on Melville.

Le Silence de la Mer is a flawed but ultimately engrossing film. It may not be perfect but it has great value for lovers of art-house cinema. It marked the film debut of Jean-Marie Robain, who remained a busy actor in French film and TV until his retirement in 1985 (he died in 2004). Interestingly enough, Robain was only a year older than Vernon! Stephane also made her debut in the film (she is ten years younger than her male co-stars) but only made a handful of films before becoming a producer. Her last film as an actress was Carve Her Name with Pride (1958). She died in 2007. Le Silence de la Mer certainly has an interesting background. The novella was written by illustrator Jean Bruller under the pen name Vercors. The book itself was published on the 22 February 1942 by the underground Edition de minuit and secretly circulated by messengers cycling across Paris. Allegedly based on a real life incident that happened to Bruller, the book became something of an inspiration to the French Resistance, and after the War, part of France’s great heritage. shows a very different form of resistance to the German occupation of France. Set in a remote country house, it tells the simple story of an old man (Jean-Marie Robain) and his niece (Nicole Stephane) whose quiet idyllic lives as disrupted when German Lieutenant Werner von Ebrennac (Howard Vernon) is billeted to their home. Unhappy with this arrangement, the uncle and niece decide to offer impassive resistance to their unwelcome guest by refusing to speak to him throughout his stay.

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