Pépé le Moko (1937)

SERIOUSLY. This is what the crap Hollywood still puts out?

It's a mild crowd pleaser for people who are exhausted by blockbusters.

A terrific literary drama and character piece that shows how the process of creating art can be seen differently by those doing it and those looking at it from the outside.

One of the film's great tricks is that, for a time, you think it will go down a rabbit hole of unrealistic glorification.

A wanted gangster is both king and prisoner of the Casbah. He is protected from arrest by his friends, but is torn by his desire for freedom outside. A visiting Parisian beauty may just tempt his fate.English author Graham Greene in a review of the film stated "One of the most exciting and moving films I can remember seeing... Raises the thriller to a poetic level!" According to a BBC documentary, it served as inspiration for Greene's acclaimed novel "The Third Man". This would be quite interesting. "Pepe" is seen as a precursor to film noir, but in my opinion "Third Man" is one of the greatest films of all time... if this film was a direct influence, it deserves to be studied by more film lovers.

You can tell when a movie is trying to impose an attitude on you, but it just doesn't take. We are obviously supposed to regard Pépé as a charming rogue, but I thought he was rude and inconsiderate. We are supposed to feel sorry for Inès, who truly loves him, but it is hard to care about a woman who will allow a man to treat her like dirt.We are supposed to believe that Pépé and Gaby truly love each other, but I could not begin to swallow that one. Though Pépé appears to be about thirty years old, and supposedly has had his way with countless women, yet we are asked to believe he would fall madly in love with Gaby at first sight, acting as if he had the emotional maturity of an adolescent half his age. And she is a hard boiled, gold-digging mistress of an older man, so true love at first sight does not suit her very well either.We are not supposed to like Slimane, but I kept pulling for him to catch Pépé and put him in prison as he deserves. But nothing so mundane. When Pépé realizes he cannot have the woman he loves, he carves himself up with a knife. Oh well, at least the bad guy died in the end.

Yes, I know, a trite headline. Apart from the fact that I don't know much French, isn't it uncanny how many tales, fiction and non, have a woman at the heart of matters? So it is with Pepe Le Moko, another poor slob caught in a love affair which costs him dearly. And to think he was the toast of The Casbah, a local hero with all the money and women and friendship he could ask for.Director Duvuvier paints a vivid picture of the sprawling slum that is the Casbah, teeming with humanity and activity, a place that has become a prison - in an abstract sense - for Pepe. The movie sets a fast pace, with barely time to catch your breath as the tension builds towards a climax both anticipated and disheartening - as so often happens, we root for this appealing criminal, hoping the outcome will be different than we expect.Some have said that the film is a 'film noir' prototype, and I agree, even though the genre didn't start until a few years later. If we include it, it is one of the best - the website description of crime/drama/romance lends a mundane feel and doesn't do it justice.

Grim, shocking, realistic, yet undeniably romantic, Pepe le Moko has justly been hailed as one of the ten best films produced in France in the 1930s. The leads, Gabin and Balin, contrive to be both realistic yet poetic, aided by skillful direction, atmospheric photography and a haunting music score. Anyone who views this film first and then watches the Hollywood remake will notice how slavishly director John Cromwell duplicates both Julien Duvivier's camera angles and frame arrangements. And why not? In most cases, Duvivier's inventiveness was impossible to equal, let alone surpass. And as for the performances, with one or two exceptions—Boyer is the equal of Gabin, but his interpretation is geared to his far more romantic (in both senses of that word) screen personality—the originals outclass their imitators. Hedy Lamarr, alas, does not stand up to the wonderfully exotic but earthy Mireille Balin. It seems at odds with her screen image, but I feel Hedy brings a guileless innocence to the role, which is certainly interesting (and she looks great) but is not what the part demands. Cromwell has coached her to actually play against the script rather than with it, no doubt partly to assuage the Hollywood censor. In addition to the stars of the French version, three portraits really stand out in the support cast: Charpin as the venal informer, Lucas Gridoux as the sly, ostensibly friendly inspector, and Frehél as the overweight but still optimistic has-been. I love her nostalgic little song (just one of a few really memorable moments which are completely missing from the Hollywood movie).