While he tries to get out of his predicament, his car is stolen by young lovers Louis (Georges Poujouly) and Veronique (Yori Bertin) for a joyride that ends in more tragedy. With no knowledge of what haas happened, Florence (Moreau) wanders the streets believing that Julien has betrayed her.
Will Julien escape? Or is the elevator really the vehicle to his doom?
Directed by Louis Malle, starring Jeanne Moreau and featuring a score by Miles Davis, on pedigree alone this movie is worth checking out.
One of the key themes of noir is a protagonist caught in a situation they have no control over - on its own, Julian's dilemma could be a great set-up for a noir or a claustrophobic thriller, but his imprisonment in the elevator serves as the first falling domino in a chain of events that turns the movie into a meditation on the fruitlessness and nihilism of life in post-war (and pre-1958) France.
The film's two plot lines are based around crime - one is premeditated, the other is not. Irregardless of intention or process, both parties lose: this is a diegesis in which even the most talented people are fallible, and every plan is subject to circumstance and chance.Reinforcing this idea of human fallibility, the film is filled with specific references to the contemporary historical context: the Occupation, Indochina and the (then) on-going Algerian War. The characters' personal crises feel like reflections of a broader national crisis. Still recovering from an enemy occupation, and with its colonial empire crumbling, the film's vision of France is of a nation in terminal decline, heading into an uncertain future without reckoning with the trauma of the recent past - by drawing on recent history and popular socio-political anxieties, the film ties the noir theme of irreversible fate to the external context.
Louis (Georges Poujouly) and Veronique (Yori Bertin) are aimless youth - Louis's life is based around petty larceny while Veronique is obsessed with silly romantic ideas that she barely understands (she has a crush on Julien; her idea to commit suicide). The film's view of these characters is incredibly pessimistic - they don't express any desires beyond satisfying their most immediate appetites. Louis sees himself as a tough guy, stealing cars and pretending to be a soldier to impress a middle-aged German tourist with a new car he desires.
Louis and Veronique are like a parody of Julien and Florence - their attraction is superficial and their actions are spur of the moment. In the end, however, they are not that dissimilar: they are both guilty of murder, and are equally capable of making mistakes.
While she shares qualities with the noir archetypes of the hard-nosed detective and the femme fatale , Florence is never fully reconcilable as either archetype. The film's focus appears to be to deliver a genre narrative, but to focus on the fallibility and weaknesses of the characters. What happens when the familiar tropes and narrative conventions are taken away? You are left with people, people subject to moments of weakness and variables they (and the viewer) cannot predict.
Only 24 when he made the film, Louis Malles displays a sure hand over the story. Juggling multiple storylines, Malles has a strong understanding of tone and pace that makes them feel both distinct and of a piece, without ever losing a sense of forward momentum. Malles had previously worked on Robert Bresson's incredible A Man Escapes. There is a certain economy to the scenes involving Julien, particularly the opening assassination that reminded me of Bresson's film.
The movie is simultaneously visually straightforward and innovative. Elevator to the Gallows is regarded as a precursor to the Nouvelle Vague, the film's use of sound is the most obvious stylistic element - Florence's voice-over as she wanders the streets, searching for her lover. The use of natural light adds to the film's sense of claustrophobia - even outside of the elevator there is an oppressiveness to the locations (both Paris's urban sprawl and the chintzy hotel where Louis and Veronique hide out), as though contemporary France is dead and empty.
While I had heard great things about this movie, the main reason I wanted to watch this movie was the score by Davis - and it is great. Davis captures the mood of the film perfectly, and adds to its sense of isolation and oppressiveness, with his trumpet feeling like a plaintive cry for help in an uncaring universe.
A perfect blend of genre and art house, Elevator to the Gallows is a terrific thriller that works as both straightforward entertainment and a meditation on the alienation of modern life; and the individual's inability to impose control over the variables of life. The film does not reinforce the theme of the inevitability of fate (ala Hollywood noir). Rather, Elevator to the Gallows is ultimately a story about no one's path overrides anyone else's. In the end, our fates are dictated by our own respective, unpredictable choices and motivations.
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