#samourai noir

[filmnoirfoundation]

Tickets now on sale for NOIR CITY Hollywood!

Highlights include opening night reception prior to the screening of our latest restoration "Never Open That Door", a nitrate screening of "Nightmare Alley" and the West Coast premiere of the new 4K digital restoration of "Le Samouraï". Introductions by Alan K. Rode and Eddie Muller. "Never Open That Door" restoration performed by UCLA Film & Television Archive.

Schedule and tickets: https://bit.ly/3Ij9Mc2

[finemaleactors]

Alain Delon

[swampflix]

Le Samouraï (1967)

I have not felt motivated to watch Richard Linklater’s undercover cop comedy Hit Man since it hit Netflix, but I did happen to catch its opening half-hour in the holiest of cinematic venues: muted on the TV at my neighborhood bar.  The one sequence that caught my eye while I was enjoying my banh mi and cocktail that evening was an early montage of classic film clips in which Glen Powell’s…

[krakenantlers]

I have a Noir movie list that I saved for research purposes a while back. Here are the ones I managed to find on the Internet Archive!

Kiss Me Deadly 1955 https://archive.org/details/kiss.-me.-deadly.-1955.720p.-blu-ray.-x-264-amiable

The Big Heat 1953 https://archive.org/details/1953thebigheatlossobornadosfritzlang

The Big Combo 1955 https://archive.org/details/the-big-combo-pnm

Detour 1945 https://archive.org/details/detour.-1945.1080p.-blu-ray.-remux.-avc.-lpcm.-1.0-fgt

Laura 1944 https://archive.org/details/laura-1944_202407

The Killers 1946 https://archive.org/details/the-killers-1946-1080p-1456x-1080-blu-ray-x-264

Night and the City 1950 https://archive.org/details/nightandthecity1950

Touch of Evil 1958 https://archive.org/details/orson-welles-touch-of-evil-1958-repubblicanesimo-geopolitico

Sweet Smell of Success 1957 https://archive.org/details/sweet-smell-of-success-1958

The Killing 1956 https://archive.org/details/the-killing-1956_202404

Criss Cross 1949 https://archive.org/details/crisscross1949_202003

Nightmare Alley 1947 https://archive.org/details/nightmare-alley-1947-720p

The Asphalt Jungle 1950 (poor quality) https://archive.org/details/the-asphalt-jungle-1950_202501

In a Lonely Place 1950 https://archive.org/details/inalonelyplace1950

The Maltese Falcon 1941 https://archive.org/details/the.-maltese.-falcon.-1941.1080p

Sunset Boulevard 1950 https://archive.org/details/sunset-boulevard-film-noir-1950-eng-subs-1080p-h-264-mp-4

The Big Sleep 1946 https://archive.org/details/the-big-sleep-1946_202411

Double Indemnity 1944 https://archive.org/details/pacto-de-sangue_1944

Gilda 1946 https://archive.org/details/gilda-1080p

The Third Man 1949 https://archive.org/details/the-third-man_202104

The Naked Kiss 1964 https://archive.org/details/thenakedkiss1964_202002

Le Samouraï 1967 https://archive.org/details/le-samourai-1967_202309

Klute 1971 https://archive.org/details/sutherlandtea

The Long Goodbye 1973 https://archive.org/details/the.-long.-goodbye.-1973.1080p.-blu-ray.-x-264-amiable

The Parallax View 1974 https://archive.org/details/the-parallax-view-1974-alan-j-pakula

Body Heat 1981 https://archive.org/details/body-heat-1981_202504

After Dark, My Sweet 1990 https://archive.org/details/AfterDarkMySweet.Bxeo

The Grifters 1990 https://archive.org/details/TheGriftersstephenFrears1990

The Last Seduction 1994 https://archive.org/details/rcv-tls-vcd/part+1+(Track+2).bin

Strange Days 1995 https://archive.org/details/strange.-days.-1995.1080p.-blu-ray.x-264.-aac-5.1-yts.-mx

Bound 1996 https://archive.org/details/bound-1996

Mulholland Drive 2001 https://archive.org/details/mulholland-dr-disc-02/MULHOLLAND_DR_DISC01.ISO

Femme Fatale 2002 https://archive.org/details/femme-fatale-t-00

The Usual Suspects 1995 https://archive.org/details/the-usual-suspects-1995.vie/The+Usual+Suspects+(1995).mp4

Thief 1981 https://archive.org/details/thief.-1981.1080p.-blu-ray.x-264.-yify

Blue Velvet 1986 https://archive.org/details/blue-velvet-q-2-extended

[lonelysucker7]

Burdened Silences

Pairing: Jef Costello x f!Reader

Summary: Ever since you saved his life, you've been entangled in the world of Jef Costello. Always sending you ahead to inspect the targets location, you report back to him with detail. In turn this earns you the name "Messenger Pigeon" from his colleagues, much to your displeasure. You couldn't really point out what was between you two. You'd be the only one whom he allowed you into his personal space. You tried not to think of it much.

And yet here you were, thoughts treading to dangerous territories.

Warnings: Angst, slow pacing, complicated established mutual understandings, attachment issues (for both really and there are types of attachments mind you), smoking, mention of murder, period typical attitudes (they’re hinted so you can get an idea)

Words: 4.2k

....

Note: So...This is a multifandom blog right? And I had a burst of idea. I wanted to write it and post it here just because. This fic belongs to one of my favorite movies, 1967's "Le Samourai" with Alain Delon. Its probably the quietest French movie ever, but that's okay. Rare shipping exists for this guy because the movie is hella old lmao but I wanted to write one for him for a long time so here we are. You should watch it! It's a noir crime film if you’re into that.

I understand a bit of French, and I only used google translate for this first part (please don't come at me I beg you.) Just so I don't butcher the rest, I left the French speaking parts in italics so that the continuity of the fic makes sense and you get an idea the language is being spoken. If you haven’t watched the movie, you’ll likely get confused what’s being referenced here, but that’s okay I think.

I’ll leave it as a one shot here despite knowing there is plot holes for a potential backstory to fill them in. I took some creative liberties here. Get ready cause its just...complicated?

This is the first fanfic with a lady reader (in this blog.)

Hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1: To Each Our Own

"I hope that makes sense. I did spell 'security' correctly...right?"

Tapping the pen on your chin, you then make a few corrections, hoping the grammar wasn't an eyesore for your fellow French hitman. The pattering of rain fell on the hood of the car you were sitting in, echoing inside and creating droplet shadows as they slid down the window while waiting in the passenger's seat. Today the Parisian streets gloomed on with grey skies and a lack of public in sight, almost creating a lonesome environment. Save for the officer that passed by to stick in a parking ticket for mismanaged cars, you minded your own business trying to prepare a short inform for the hitman.

You double checked for mistakes and kept it accurate to observations made earlier at the shady art studio he sent you. You still had so much to learn of the language, only knowing a couple from a course you took here, and interactions you've had with the natives. While listening and writing was your decent skill, speaking it not so much. Too many slips and tongue tripping on your rolling of the R made it clear it was best to practice that when you got the chance. For now, this was the best way to communicate with-

The door opens in the driver's seat, your soul leaving to think the cop caught an intruder lounging alone. But the tension relaxes when you noticed it wasn't them. It was the 30 year old man known as Jef Costello, sparing you a glance with those tired blue eyes of his and takes a seat inside.

None of you say anything, him staring ahead out the window and eyes glancing back and forth to the rear view mirrors. He takes much in observing the officer from across the street. The man's head was almost buried within the drenched khaki trench coat almost if he were waiting for something. Clearing your throat and memorizing the rehearsed words, you raised the notepad you had.

"Morning Jef. Got what you want."

Jef finally glances at you, eyeing the notepad with a neutral expression. Extending his palm out, you slip it to him as he brings it close to him and reads it silently. You watch him process the information, and you don't have to look at what you wrote.

Monday March 20th 1967 3:30 in the afternoon Short, balding man tends to walk behind the workshop, surrounds himself with mannequins... seems to have a liking for non-living things. Lack of security. Two exits, one near his office and the other main. But if you ask me, it wouldn't hurt to check under the desk rug. It looks like there's a trap door there. Be careful.   

"Is that all?" He asks quietly, returning you the notepad in a gentle manner, but almost fast enough to avoid making contact with your hands. You ignored that as you tucked the notepad in your coat pocket, nodding faintly.

"Yes. Let me know if you need anything else."

Jef nods, looking at you with a somewhat strange look in his eye. Strange, as in, there are crinkles in the corner of his eyes.

You stare back at him, huffing with a shrug. "What?"

He doesn't say anything, eyes going up towards your head before taking out his numerous key carrier and stares front ahead again. With blind accuracy he slides the first car key out of its hook.

"Your hair is curled up. Going somewhere?" He comments in his lowly voice. Instinctively your hand goes up to the curls, a finger curling around a strand and pulls it a bit, watching it bobble.

Looking at the rear view mirror, you fix the curl back in its place, commenting with a hum, "Someone invited me to the nightclub up on 6th tonight at 9. Fancy place. You should come with me when you're done."

Jef continues to insert each key, unsuccessfully starting the sleek black Citroën. He pauses, eyes glancing head to toe, taking note of the indigo dress you wore. Suddenly you felt self-conscious, but you raise an eyebrow and open your coat more to show its detailed material. It was if saying 'It's a dress. So?' 

But he says nothing.

"I got plans of my own." He said bluntly, his lips to a thin line as he returns his gaze back to the front, keeping an eye on that cop. Again, he picks out another key, using it with the car and again it fails to start. You almost slump in your seat, crossing your arms and roll your eyes.

"No you don't. And don't say its with your bird. Poor things still caged up," You coo a bit, referring to his bullfinch at his place. Jef doesn't follow up with his defense. Finally, after what could've been the 10th key, the car revved with life. From there you both were off. Thankfully the light traffic made the sights around you more accessible to see in the ride, allowing you to be entertained alongside the quiet man.

It's funny, how you and the enigmatic Jef Costello have set up your style of communication. He remained speaking his language while you did with yours. The first time you two met it was in an elevator of a hotel. He kept his eyes dead and forward, while your social self picked him among the other crowd of people standing and tried to start off a conversation with your poor French. He didn't reply much, listening to you blab and trip over some accents before telling you stoically you weren't going to get nowhere with him.

"Is it someone I know? " He asks, bringing you back to the present. His question retracts the mentioned invitation. More particularly asking who was the one who invited you. You purse your lips a bit, turning your head towards the window as an excuse to avoid his eye. Whether or not this would displease him, you didn't know and you gripped the seat handles.

"It's the boss."

There was no to need to face him when his reflection on the window doing it for you. Underneath the car slows down to a red light, gently nudging you forward in your seat. You don't see much against the transparent glass, only the reflection of those deep blue eyes of his.

"...Why is that?" He finally asks quietly, the monotone of his voice just making you a little bothered. It was supposed to be anonymous between boss and employee. That’s how the system worked. As far you understood, Jef's never met anyone past the go-between.

The one who paid him. You didn't either and this was a first. Swallowing, you shrug and lean your head back against the headrest behind you and busy yourself picking at your nails. Then simply spill out the specifics.

"I don't know. If you haven't noticed, his go-between keeps sending me his notes like some admirer. He seems to know I like company. And he knows I'm a good worker."

What a joke, you think to yourself. Tonight, you'll be going to the lion's den. Face to face with a man who could be a politician risked your exposure to the public. Jef cocks his head back a bit on that, unfazed and returns to facing ahead at the streets. The light turns green, and the car runs.

"So...you want to come?" You ask, tilting your head towards his direction.

"I wasn't aware this was an open invitation."

"It's not. But you can be my guest."

There's a brief pause... and he does his turns on the road.

"They want you." 

His final word. You lips remain thinned; unchanged, but your chest grew tight. "Right. Apologies, Jef."

You don't want to leave the man third wheeling where he wasn't needed. Jef kept driving, the recognizable subtle tension going unnoticed on his shoulders when you could feel his gears turning in his head. A growing silence stretching in the car. He was, to say the least, far from being the most readable person in the room. Yet you understood him somehow and knew his interest peaked. A date with the boss, platonic or not, it stands.

"Will he pick you up?" He spoke after a moment of awkward silence. You rubbed your chin, trying to remember.

"Yeah...No, I think it's his driver. I'll let you know before I head out." You reassure him, gesturing a call phone gesture. He bowed his head slightly taking note. You both take a corner, passing an intersection and the silence grows just like the never-ending rain.

He's taking you home, to the little apartment on the nicer neighborhood on the other side of the city, far from where he lived. Currently in a stolen car of course. One you tipped off for Jef of a busy accountant always leaving his car unlocked, which you gave Jef the location prior to the meet up.

The same car he was going to change its license plate and use to travel to the art studio later. You can't help but think of that studio you were in, thinking how it'll appear in the newspaper tomorrow. The weird artist laying in his pool of blood as the culprit fled taking the exits you gave them. You'll probably sit at the table, reading, and think 'Yeah I knew who shot and killed the guy. He's my friend.'

Friend?

Side glancing at Jef, suddenly you felt like reaching out when you notice an eyelash stuck on his cheek. It's small and curled up. Dark like his hair. So you settled on blowing it, the air smacking it off him to land elsewhere. Jef only gives you a questioning glance. You force a blunt expression, but it doesn’t quite work; you can feel the edges of a smile trying to break through. He slumps in his seat.

"You want to crash?" He murmured his scolding, crossing over a bridge that overlooked the lower streets of Paris. The Eiffel tower was nearby, the specks of people surrounding it and holding umbrellas.

"Eyelash." You chuckled, earning you one of his infamous stoic glares. Quietly glancing at Jef, the urge to do more banters were held back by the bite on your tongue. That man never cracked a smile in his life huh? Not even to your jokes? Save it for dinner you supposed. Crossing your arms, the heel on your foot taps on the ground as Jef calmly weaved between the traffic of cars. It's those things he did that made you watch in silent awe wondering how he managed to keep his composure.

Like this whole job. Then again, he was his own man who did things without question. Why else would Jef be hired to carry a task? You'd do this without question too. Helping with the clean getaway but unfortunately lacking an equal luck. You were too valuable to be let go and hell traveling outside of the city wasn't much of a choice. Almost everyone in the underworld knew you as a recommended getaway planner. Jefs "partner" in some way. So much for being an alibi.

At first Jef was reluctant to have you as one of his alibis, leaving you to think it would create some interruption to his current routine. Yet he managed to fit you somewhere in his life and here you were now. Only providing minimal details of potential exits, who the target looked like and the environment.

Other than that, nothing personal. Employers paid good, making sure survival was guaranteed. Therefore, you were both trapped under this deadly habit in which a job was never the last. Equally responsible with blood in your hands. Chills ran down your back, goosebumps popping up on your arms.

Something felt off in these last few months, all having to do with whatever this partnership was. 

"The accountant must earn a lot in his living to afford one of these. Maybe the audio definition is sharp." You say suddenly, pretending to admire the set up.

Jef only spared you three seconds of his attention before returning to look up front. You didn't own a car, preferring to take the public transportation that was affordable and with you free of insurance. Jef next to you checks his watch under his wrist, a hand on the wheel, and he shows you.

"It's a quarter till 5. The exhibition opens at 8. I should be done in 10 minutes," He comments bluntly, returning his hand on the wheel, sharing you the other piece of information he received from the go-between. A small chuckle gets out of you, finding something amusing about that delivery of information. You could never decide you liked it or not, it was inconsistent.

"Right. I'll be home, and keep an eye on the time..." The radio once again catches your eye; now becoming invested and observe the numbers wondering which turns to what station. Buttons and their placements...to see how they worked from the inside was perhaps extraordinary. As you reached out to turn it on, you had to look at Jef for permission. He doesn't look at you, a hand turning the wheel to a left as he looks over his shoulder.

"If you get attached to it, it won't be my problem."

"I'll take it as a yes." You mused, leaning in and bringing the radio to life. Turning the button to the stations, the static frizzled and crackled, until you find a station you had a feeling would be to both your liking. The tune of songs playing Jazz in the background brought a gentle melodious environment to the car, and you kept it low to avoid distracting Jef. He glanced at your choice of music, but keeps to himself, the silence between you two settling to an ease. Somehow you sense he didn't mind this at all.

The music went on, the piano tapping the keys with its gentle high notes and low, matching tune with the trumpet and flute mingling in the background. Just when you were feeling comfortable the reminder of the nightclub wandered back. Fancy clubs played these kinds of tunes, didn't they? Rich old people coming in and out of there, humming those notes and you wondered what kind of energy you'd be met tonight.

"What will you do when you come back?" Jef asks unexpectedly, breaking the silence.

A perplexed look crosses your face; suddenly anticipating. "Uh... Sleep. Need me for something?"

"No."

"...Okay." An uncomfortable tightness spreads inside followed by a bitter chuckle. Your hand waves in the air dismissively before falling lamely on your lap.

Despite no harm, you still mumbled an apology to Jefs "confused" blank expression shot towards you. Leaning against the window, it felt cold enough to calm your heating face. Your breath creating a fog against the glass. Now your mood grew sour, bringing you back to earlier thoughts. You didn't miss his questioning expression upon your dress and hair.

That man always brewed with heavier thoughts than words, and you wanted to hear them. Just now he almost gave you a sense of that nice-something you didn't want to name. Things like this always happened, leaving you confused about their meaning, and you refused to give in to those hopeful thoughts. The clear jazz began to cut in and out, and your face went somber hearing it.

The date, that damn date. It replays in your mind like a scratched disc. It made you narrow your side eyes at Jef again. Maybe you were being delusional, but you swore Jef wanted to ask more. Show that he probably needed you again for tonight. Silently you wished he would say something otherwise, make him protest and not let you go. Water blurred in your eyes, feeling the familiar burn and quickly your thumb comes up to brush them away.

Swiveling your head, you began, "Jef--." The hitman turned his head to you, eyes calculating silently waiting for you to continue and lips curt to match his expression. But looking at the dull gaze on his face didn't offer any consolation. The words to ask him if he really needed you remained stuck in your throat, and you break eye contact. It was like staring at an emptiness with a body. Your gut churned to a darker thought: You were on your own. Jef knew that. You did too. Being stuck in this car with this man only deepened the real focus.

Watch over Jef. Work alongside him but remain out of the lone wolf's way.

That's how it was going to be.

"You just watch out tonight. Get back and, uh, wait for my call," Your voice cracks a little, internally embarrassed when you give away the stressor, while reminding him of your earlier note to call him after his mission. Jef stares at you a moment longer, giving nothing away as he returns his gaze back forward. He exhales through his nose quietly. The car approached another bridge, and you knew you were close to home. Automatically you wipe away the moisture on your lap, chest tightening, and ignore the heavy pit in your stomach. The giveaway of his jaw clenching and unclenching lightly seems to have him think about your request.

"Fine," he finally murmurs.

The static of the radio grew uglier as the car furthered the distance of the main area, and you were more than glad when Jef turned it off. He keeps one slender hand on the wheel as the other reaches for his cigarette in the inner breast pocket of his trench coat. A streetlight turns red and he presses the brake, keeping cool while slips the stick in his lips. He rolls down the window of his side, ignoring the drops of rain that enter to let ventilation in for your sake. He starts searching for the lighter, and he pulls it out a little too quickly just for it to fall underneath the seat.

"Here, let me--" Immediately you lean down, moving a little closer as your hand rummages down under his seat finding it. This prompts him to retreat his hand that was nearing the floor and lets you find it for him. You could feel him tense at your closeness, and you make sure to find the lighter quickly before god who knows what could happen. At this proximity, your mind wanders where it shouldn't. He smells good, the natural musk and smoke making up for which he lacks in cologne.

When you feel that cold surface of the small rectangular lighter, you grin and mumble your found search with success. Leaning back, some of the curls on your head fall down to your face, and you shake them out of the way before flipping the lighter cap open and you press your thumb down. You turn it on and near it to him. Once you do, he leans down his head holding the now burning cigarette between his lips. He raises his eyes a little, meeting yours with a speck of sullen curiosity. Unable to help yourself, a faint smile starts curling up at him and you turn off the lighter. 'You're welcome', your eyes spoke.

Gently handing the lighter back in his hand, you're about to lean back.

"Hey."

Pausing, you look back at him when he calls your attention. He hasn't moved away when he exhales a little puff of smoke through the corner of his lips, the smoke flitting under and over his grey fedora. You consciously feel yourself leaning back to him, taking note up close of the dark circles forming slowly around his eyes. He lowers his head a bit, his fedora casting a shadow over his eyes, defining their blue. The green light flicks from the corner of your eye but Jef holds your gaze, refusing to break contact.

"...Be careful. Okay?"

There's a weight to his words offered in a gentle low caution, to which sends a skip in your heart. Slowly you nodded, keeping your hopes low but sharing with him your soft smile of appreciation.

"I will. Thanks."

He nods once, staring at you for a moment longer watching his eyes trail down to your smile, before the car behind him beeps at both of you to go. You break away contact, and frown looking over the car seat. Clicking your tongue in disapproval, your cheeks began to flush in irritation.

"Bastard. See if he'll like it. Move Jef--" You reach to do the same, but Jef presses the gas, sending you back in your seat. Eyes going wide and mouth gaping like a fish, your fingers digging the sides of your seat. You whipped your head to complain, opening and closing your speechless mouth to say something. But instead, you burst out an energetic laugh at the random occurrence head tilting back as your body shook within the walls of the car. You flipped off the hitman, clearing the irritation on your throat and press together your lips to silence the giggles. While you have your head turned away, Jef lingers his eyes on you a little longer.

Eventually the journey on the stolen car ends when you both arrive at your nicer apartment. The sunshine broke out through the clouds once the rain stopped, and you felt lighter with a sense of confidence. You turn to Jef, eyeing his relaxed posture and nod. "Thank you Jef. I'll remember to call. Take care."

He only stares at you, hands resting on his lap when you open the door, your back turned towards him when you close. In the car he watched you wave at him with a smile glowing alongside the afternoon sunshine peering down. It makes the curls on your head and the indigo dress make you appear angelic.

The moment doesn't last once you disappear inside, with the clouds reemerge to decolorize the environment. Now Jef remained alone inside the vehicle--well, not quite. The ringing of your laughter earlier echoed in his ears; the scent of your perfume lingered in the empty seat next to him. The memory of the way you held the lighter close to him and offered your help...

He blinks barely, the first of many all day when he realizes something warm in his chest.

Before he can think, his hand automatically ignites the car to life and runs. A sudden rush to get out of your area lead him to anticipating getting his gun plus a change of license plates at the dingy garage. He flips his wrist to check the time underneath, but his eyes became unfocused for a second, forgetting to tell time. The cigarette on his lips waned and he tossed it out of his window, exhaling the remaining smoke his mouth carried.

Right, go to the garage, remember the time, the exits, the target, the boss, your date--

"..."

He presses the gas harder, taking a left for his home to hear your call. The familiar route starts to reappear along the grimy wet pavement. What was wrong with him? Get the gun! The wheel swerves a little just as his gaze hardens when he abruptly presses the brake and halts near a lamppost. Luckily no one outside takes notice the man in crisis. His face remains unchanged, lips barely parted as his eyes wander around up front, his chest heaving out of breath. His fingers flexed a little gripping the wheel. A form of attack, he silently identified. Heart beating like a post cat and mouse chase. Jefs eyes look around the interior of the foreign car, noting the headboard scratches and fading color of the greenish leather.

He paused, noticing something in the corner of his eye. In your seat, your little notepad accidentally left behind, having each of your tasks and reminders written down. It carries what would be lethal evidence. But he gently takes it, thumb flipping the pages nonchalantly, the devoted words "For Jef" on each page engraving his mind.

The familiar etch of the pen in a hurried cursive or a messy unintelligible word reminded him of your growing adapting progress to his language. In the back of his mind there was a thought. A very quiet one. If the possibility that tonight things were to go wrong for you...Would you see this again? Would you write another reminder? He closed the notepad, carefully securing it in his pocket. Without another thought he presses down the gas on his way to the garage at a steady pace.

He had one job. Eliminate the artist, cut short that life and move on.

The night went on. The drive was long.

And it felt like you hadn't left at all...

[lesbiancolumbo]

noir city chicago screening of le samourai is gonna go even crazier than before

[glassconfined]

saw headcanons: favorite film

starting when he was young, peter strahm developed a love for foreign media. i think noir/crime films are his favorite genre—but le samourai, starring alain delon, is his all time favorite.

i imagine mark hoffman’s most enjoyed films tend to be stephen king adaptations. misery falls high on his list.

lawrence gordon loves old movies, i feel. like peter, there’s enjoyment of foreign films—in lawrence’s case, he likes german expressionist films. i believe M, starring peter lorre, would be one of his favorite movies. not number one, but one he definitely loved. though it’s french, not german, i bet the doctor side of him would appreciate les yeux sans visage.

adam stanheight is an absolute film buff. while the aspirations of being a veterinarian were snuffed out by his bad grades, i imagine film school still enticed him. it felt so natural to be behind a camera, after all. again, i think adam has an appreciation for foreign media, too, namely japanese media. kaiju films & the japanese horror genre in general thrills him, especially the 1977 film House. yet, i’m not sure if i’d call it his favorite. i’d say his favorite would be a dario argento film, likely suspiria or opera.

art blank . . . i imagine he likes thrillers & suspenseful movies. things with a big twist, like the sixth sense! for his favorite, i have to go with primal fear, starring a young edward norton.

scott tibbs loves horror movies, not that this would surprise anyone. the gorier, the better. unfortunately, this isn’t my realm of expertise, so it’s difficult for me to pick one i know well enough to confidently say would be his favorite. i think, at the very least, he’d get a kick out of house of 1000 corpses—i hear it is very gory and the trailer looks kinda silly, which i don’t think would deter him.

[best-movie-ever-tournament]

Seven Samourais:

What can even be said? Directed by the visionary Akira Kurosawa, who pioneered many of the most foundational filmmaking techniques used to this day. The film is exciting and compelling, every shot is art, and its legacy on the industry is yet to be overshadowed. It consistently makes top ten on ‘best films of all time’ lists to this day, rated the best foreign language film of all time by the BBC. All the actors are great, Toshiro Mifune is hot, the soundtrack by Fumio Hayasaka is iconic, and the film was technically magnificent for the time, with the techniques and effects frankly still blowing many modern blockbusters out of the water (ahem. marvel.) The film is also one of the most remade and reimagined films to date. Particularly of note is that The Magnificent Seven, one of the most famous films of all time (and criminally much more well-known than Seven Samurai) is explicitly a direct remake of Seven Samurai with the setting swapped. Frankly it’s no contest. All of Kurosawa’s films are brilliant, and were massively influential for their own reasons, but Seven Samurai is such a seminal piece of cinematic history that not including it would be nigh a crime.

Seven rōnin are hired to protect a village from bandits. This film has such a classic set-up and has been remade several times over (See: The Magnificent Seven, The Invincible Six, A Bug's Life honestly...). However, I personally think the original did it best. It's got the best action, the best characters (Toshiro Mifune my beloved), and just the best general direction. For a film that's over 3 hours, not a second of it feels wasted.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari:

Arguably the first TRUE horror film! The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is a majorly influential German silent film from 1920, very easily streamed all over the place including YouTube! It had a tremendous impact on German and American cinema, especially in horror and later noir films, and featured fantastical elements of surrealism in its depictions and architecture that are incredibly endearing. The film is a tale of love, hypnotism, and murder. Fantastic plot twist for an early film, and Cesare is very very gender.

[lilias42]

Identifiez quelqu'un que vous voulez mieux connaître OU à qui vous voulez simplement dire bonjour !

Merci beaucoup à @ladyniniane de m'avoir tagué ! On va tenté de répondre à tout ça !

Couleur préférée : Le rouge de très loin ! Ensuite, le blanc et le noir

Dernière chanson : Ma Fée de Manau. Je me suis refait toute sa discographie cette semaine au boulot vu que je fais des trucs trèèès ennuyeux, et cette chanson est de loin ma préférée de toutes, elle décrit vraiment bien comment je voie la créativité et l'imagination en tout genre !

Série en cours : Infinity Train. J'ai vu juste la saison 1 de cette série d'anthologie mais, elle est vraiment bien dans son côté absurde avec peu de sens mais, qui arrive à en avoir un quand on voie l'ensemble de la saison, avec des persos très attachants (j'aime beaucoup Tulip et honnêtement, à l'épisode 8-9, j'ai sauté sur le wiki pour savoir comment finissait Atticus et si ce serait positif ou pas pour me préparer) En plus, vu que je ne l'ai trouvé qu'en VOSTFR, c'est une des rares séries que je regarde vraiment, pas juste l'écouter en faisant autre chose donc, c'est assez apaisant et les épisodes sont assez courts pour que cela ne m'agace pas de ne rien faire de mes mains trop longtemps.

Lecture en cours : Elusive Samourai. Ce manga est trop cool ! Le côté historique est surtout pour la forme mais, tous les personnages sont hauts en couleurs et plaisant à lire, surtout le héros qui est assez original et très attachant ! En plus, je le lis avec ma meilleure amie donc, c'est encore mieux de pouvoir en discuter avec elle !

Travail en cours : mes différents travaux pour la FE OC Week, surtout mon introduction qui sera sous forme de BD et donc est très chronophage mais, mon encrage est quasi fini, elles sont toutes à cette étape-là à part quelque petits raccords (il manque juste une page que je dois toute refaire et je procrastine), et j'aurais moins de couleurs à faire donc, on tient le bon bout, ça devrait être bon pour le Jour-J ! Pour la suite de ma fic en cours, elle est en pause le temps que la week se finisse.

Obsession en cours : La FE OC WEEK !!! J'ai tellement hâte ! Bon, comme toujours, je suis en retard car pour ce genre de chose, j'ai toujours l'impression d'être en retard mais, j'ai trop trop trop hâte d'y être et de vous présenter tout le monde !

Je tague toute personne qui passe et qui a envie de participer ! Faites vous plaisir !

[charlesfstewart]

The Mes-en-Scene of Jean-Pierre Melville's "Le Samourai"

Screenshot courtesy of BAMF Style

Author’s note - this essay was initially written in 2012. While I have not made major changes to the content of the article, I have linked the films and articles, essays, or books referenced. In some cases, I am unable to find the original sources. These sections have been italicized at this time. Additionally, some grammatical changes have been made.

Jean-Pierre Melville's Le Samouraï is not only a staggeringly beautiful film from a visual perspective, but also a great character study. Alan Deloin, in a tour-de-force performance plays Jef Costello, a professional hitman whose methodical mannerisms allow him to be a top-notch assassin. Melville's use of set design, along with lighting, and lack of dialogue create not only a crime drama, but a meditation on the violence plagued by modern society.

The scene is simple. Show Jef Costello in his room, preparing for a job. Not for any job, mind you, but an assassination. Jean-Pierre Melville starts the film with a basic shot of Jef laying in his bed, smoking a cigarette. His room is spartan, to be polite. Bare is more correct. A birdcage sits in the middle of the room, the bird chirping at a regular interval. In this first shot, the room seems small, but after a quote from the Bushido; (actually written by Melville) "There is no greater solitude than that of the samurai unless it is that of the tiger in the jungle... Perhaps…" rolls, Melville initiates a Dolly Zoon (also known as a "Hitchcock shot" from Alfred Hitchcock's 1959 film Vertigo) which makes the whole room look a lot larger. Melville's purpose in juxtaposing Jef in these two different shots is that it shows the two sides of the character. In Jef's small world, the only thing that matters is his own codes; whether they be ethical or moral. In the larger world, where Jef is just a small part, his or any other presence makes no difference. 

Melville also uses a large amount of natural lighting, making Jef's apartment seem very dark. Not only obviously a look into Jef's own attitudes, but also his soul. Outside of killing, he does very little, except for having sexual intercourse with a woman (Nathalie Delon, Alain’s wife during production) who is probably engaged to be married. Jef does eventually get up, already dressed, and checks a wad of cash. The bird, his only company, tweets regularly, as he gets up and places the cash in a hiding place in his apartment. While not only a sign that Jef is careful, this shows his distrust of others. By eliminating personal contact, Jef is able to focus more on his work, which he seems to do be good at.

Aside from a tweeting bird and light street noise, there is no other sounds in Jef's apartment. Melville uses this to again show Jef's separation from humanity, both emotionally and professionally. The soundtrack, written by François de Roubaix, is subdued and almost funereal, possibly foreshadowing Jef's own end. While it has some jazz influence, the soundtrack is of a mostly traditional cinematic tone. Possibly due to the meta-ness of the idea of a French samurai, but also a nod to traditional noir stylings. Melville puts a lot in front of the audience without dialogue, including a scene where Jef and a woman exchange glances at a stoplight. Without dialogue, we know Jef is lonely, and misses a normal life, but he has exchanged it for this one. Melville's lack of diegetic spoken language provides a cold atmosphere perpetuated by violence.

The formal elements that compose Le Samouraï are impressive on their own, considering how much thought is placed in each area. Melville's use of stark set design and natural lighting provide an eire setting for the film to take place. Also, the successful lack of diegetic dialogue reflects the atmosphere of the film, and the soundtrack pairs well with the action in the film. Le Samouraï is not only a homage to the noir genre, it is an excellent study of a world with strict work ethics and lacking moral ethics.

[duamuteffe]

Please watch Le Samourai, a Neo-Noir with terrific aesthetics.

Okay, here's my hundred. Have fun, or not. It's up to you!

[lonesomemao]

LE PAYS DANS LE CIEL

SAUCE SAMOURAI

NOus avons une bonne nouvelle

NO

Théâtre japonais traditionnel

Exclusivement masculin

Joué pour les samouraï et les shoguns

Sauce Samouraï

Pour moi Sam Sun

L'Homme Asiatique le Droit

Petits yeux noirs il a

Influence de l'Amérique

ONU New-York place stratégique

Wall Street pour le financier et l'économique

Mercredi 1er mai

[venus-haze]

can you give some recs from the film noir list you reblogged??

Yes! Besides horror, film noir (both US and international) is probably the genre I watch the most. I absolutely love it, and I’ve actually written articles on several of the films on the list.

The Glass Key

Double Indemnity

Spellbound

Leave Her to Heaven

The Big Sleep

The Postman Always Rings Twice

Dark Passage

Nightmare Alley

Rope

They Live By Night

Edge of Doom

Gun Crazy

Sunset Boulevard

M

Strangers on a Train

Niagara

The Night of the Hunter

Les Diaboliques

Vertigo

Le Samourai (not on the list but highly recommend!)

🦇 Battie

[omercifulheaves]

Le Samourai (1967)

[nihillist-blog]

Le Samourai (1967)

[adscinema]

Le Samouraï - Jean-Pierre Melville (1967)

Poster design by George Probonas.

https://georgeprobonas.com