Le Pacha (1968)
Directed by Georges Lautner

Film Review

If there is a French film policier which evokes the revolutionary spirit of 1968 it has to be Le Pacha, a police-procedural suspense thriller which broke the mould in more ways than one and paved the way for the tougher, more action-oriented French thrillers of the following decade. Most policiers prior to this had been fairly genteel offerings, mainly character pieces that seemed incapable of moving much beyond the classic American films noirs of the 1940s.  They had not kept up with reality, and were out-dated in both their portrayal of violent crime and police methods.  Le Pacha was a conscious attempt to bring the film policier up to date, and it pulls few punches as it does so (few French thrillers have anything like the high body count of this one).  The influence of this film can be felt even in today's French policiers - director Olivier Marchal paid homage to it in his 21st century equivalent, 36 Quai des Orfèvres (2004).

The film was directed by Georges Lautner, whose previous contributions to the policier genre had been predominantly outright parodies, exemplified by Les Tontons flingueurs (1963) and Ne nous fâchons pas (1966).  Le Pacha was a significant departure for Lautner and his faithful screenwriter Michel Audiard, stepping away from the comicbook-style exploits of caricatured cops and robbers and entering a darker, far less comforting world which gave a far more accurate representation of Le Milieu, France's gangster underworld.  Lautner appears to have been influenced by the films of Jean-Pierre Melville and achieves a similarly cold, detached feel which prevents us from identifying with either the villains or heroes in the film and which gives the film a nihilist brutality.  Lautner never made a film like this before and he never would again - it is his one great contribution to the policier genre, and almost certainly the greatest film of his career. 

The casting of Jean Gabin in the lead role, that of the driven police chief, was inspired but also a gamble.  Gabin, who was then in his mid-60s, was associated with the old-style policier, plodding crime investigation dramas such as Maigret tend un piège (1958) and Le Désordre et la nuit (1958).  He was no Alain Delon and seemed an odd choice for a film which was so obviously hell-bent on modernising cinema's portrayal of the police.  Yet, as it turned out, Gabin was a perfect casting choice.  His age and charisma give him a moral authority, a reassuring solidity, that imbues the film's modernist touches with greater impact.  The film feels more violent and hip than it really is, because we see things from Gabin's perspective.  Gabin serves as a point of reference which drives home how much more violent crime has become since the end of the Second World War, and how much more resilient and morally ambiguous those who have to fight crime have become as a result.  There is no doubt that the film's title Le Pacha (meaning The Governor) refers not to the gangster villain of the piece (superbly portrayed by André Pousse) but to Gabin himself.  Gabin's character is pretty well the prototype for the maverick cop that would surface again and again in films and TV crime dramas throughout the next two decades, an obvious forerunner of Clint Eastwood's Dirty Harry and John Thaw's Jack Regan.

What perhaps most delineates Le Pacha from French crime thrillers of the past are its magnificently choreographed set-piece action sequences, which include one of the most memorable jewel heists in French cinema (one that was way ahead of its time).   Just as the criminals are seen to use the latest technology for their nefarious exploits, so are the police seen to be reliant on the latest gizmos and gadgets to bring them to justice - surveillance equipment, computers, etc. (in this respect, the film was at least a decade ahead of the reality at the time).  This could be why the film has worn so well - it accurately predicted how police methods would have to change to cope with the challenges posed by an increasingly sophisticated criminal fraternity.  

The film's modernity is underscored by its music, which was composed by the popular singer/composer Serge Gainsbourg.  This includes percussion accompaniment to the action scenes (lending these sequences a heightened tension) and the controversial title song Requiem pour un con, sung by Gainsbourg.  (At the time the film was made, the c-word was definitely outré, evidenced by the fact that the title had to be abbreviated to Requiem pour un c... on its record sleeve.)  Gainsbourg even gets to appear in the film, playing himself recording the song.  When he and Gabin, two of the biggest French cultural icons of the 20th century, are brought together briefly in the same shot, you cannot help but feel a frisson of delight.

One of the slickest, darkest and most provocative films policiers of the 1960s, Le Pacha deserves its status as a classic of French cinema.  Although it is somewhat overshadowed by the crime thrillers that came in its wake - superlative examples of the genre such as Henri Verneuil's Le Clan des Siciliens (1969) and Jean-Pierre Melville's Le Cercle Rouge (1970) - it represents something of a landmark in French cinema.  Masterfully directed by Georges Lautner at his most inspired, with a compelling central performance from Jean Gabin at the height of his powers, Le Pacha provided a hard-wearing template which many French filmmakers are still working to and which no self-respecting aficionado of the policier genre dare overlook.  To quote Gainsbourg, Ecoute les orgues, Elles jouent pour toi...

© James Travers 2011

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Next Georges Lautner film:
Il était une fois un flic (1971)

Film Synopsis

Early one morning, an armoured van loaded with diamonds sets out from the Place Vendôme in the heart of Paris to Bourget airport, accompanied by a police escort.  Before it can reach its destination, the convoy is suddenly attacked by a gang of armed crooks, who show no mercy as they set about stealing the valuable cargo.  The gang's leader, Quinquin, has no intention of sharing his ill-gotten gains with his accomplices.  As soon as he has taken receipt of the diamonds he begins eliminating all of his criminal associates, beginning with Gouvion, the police inspector who was charged with delivering the jewels.

Police superintendent Joss is just a few months from a well-deserved retirement when he is tasked with investigating the jewel heist.  Gouvion was a close personal friend of his, so his death comes as a shock and causes Joss to redouble his efforts to find the criminals.  It isn't long before Gouvion's part in the diamond theft is uncovered - it seems he was seduced by Nathalie, the sister of one of the crooks.  Learning that her brother is one of the men who was killed by Quinquin in his purge, Nathalie agrees to help Joss bring the gang leader to justice, but she meets a nasty end when the gangster boss sees through her treachery.

Making full use of his informers and underworld contacts, the wily superintendent sets about laying a trap for his enemy by encouraging a rival gang to raid a postal train.  Naturally these extreme measures bring him into conflict with his police superiors, but Joss is adamant that they are necessary to apprehend one of the most dangerous criminals in France.  Quinquin swallows the bait and falls straight into Joss's carefully laid trap.  Once the train robbery has been carried off successfully, the two gangs confront each other in a disused factory and set about wiping each other out.  Joss shows up at the end of this fierce showdown to deliver not justice, but a well-timed revenge...