Criterion Collection: Leon Morin Priest [Blu-ray] | DVD Review

Just as religion has been used as a method of taming the savage human, Léon Morin, Priest – a film about religion, among a bunch of other things – is a meandering, disorganized bit of cinematic storytelling that could have benefited from stricter discipline. Set in a small town in the French Alps during WWII, Jean-Pierre Melville’s clunky opus seems to want to tackle all the big mysteries of existence at once, before finally settling into a modest groove that ultimately lacks the courage of its convictions. Léon Morin, Priest is a film of promising and thematically ambitious exposition. But it fails to deliver any measure of catharsis or clarity; in fact, it seems smugly satisfied by its failure.

The film opens as a rather flabby looking Italian Army unit arrives to occupy the village. Clad in what must be the most unintimidating uniforms in military history – in lieu of helmets, the men wear homburgs adorned with long, floppy feathers – making the soldiers look more like an enthusiastic bird watching club than any sort of organized militia. Their arrival is duly noted by a young widow named Barny (Emmanuelle Riva), who serves as the film’s narrator and co-protagonist although, awkwardly, the story will eventually shift to an omniscient point-of-view. Barny, an avowed Communist, has been relocated to the village from Paris by her employer: a bustling correspondence school that has elected to flee the French capital for the war’s duration.

The free thinking Barny has developed a Sapphic crush on her immediate supervisor, a willowy beauty named Sabine (Nicole Mirel) whose eyebrows arch up like thinly disguised devil horns – for an atheist, Melville loved to play with religious symbols – and, in a fit of Parisian snobbery, Barny decides to attend confession at the local church and boldly declare her feelings. She also plans to unleash a bitter storm of Marxist theory on her unsuspecting confessor, once and for all unmasking the entrenched religious hypocrisy of the hayseeds in her midst. But to Barny’s surprise, the priest (Jean-Paul Belmondo) is a young, handsome fellow with a mind as fit as his athletic build. He matches Barny’s arguments word for word, and seems to have a compelling counter-case for all of them. With their debate at a stalemate, Barny and the Priest agree to meet in his office on Wednesday nights, for lively philosophical discussions and bit of unstated sexual tension.

It is in these scenes that Léon Morin, Priest achieves a bit of loft, as the verbal sparring is laced with both romantic and intellectual intrigue. As Barny ascends the steep stairs to Morin’s quarters, viewers get a palpable sense of her entrance into a alien yet welcoming domain, a safe haven from the cares of war and Earthly existence. Melville creates an effective parallel between faith and sexuality, and the value of each as an escape mechanism. Morin’s arguments that the love of an unseen God and the love of a human stranger result from similar impulses deeply resonate with Barny. Before long she begins to confuse the two sensations as well, and eventually experiences a conversion based more on lust than liturgy.

If Melville had retained this relatively narrow focus, Léon Morin, Priest might have emerged as a slight but profound drama. But instead he ventures down a number of narrative paths, with lots of mood killing distractions and confusing dead ends along the way. The Italian occupiers are soon replaced by a German regiment, but their grip on the village doesn’t seem any more malevolent. Resistance members come out of hiding and attend baptisms at the church, then simply walk down the street in broad daylight and return to their secret hideouts, apparently no worse for wear. Barny’s 5-ish daughter (Chantal Gozzi ) develops a special – and quite creepy – friendship with a German sergeant that never goes anywhere, but perhaps that’s a blessing. For reasons never explained, Barny attempts a surrogate seduction of Morin by bringing two coworkers (Irene Trunc and Monique Hennesey) to visit him, but these dim floozies are easily brushed aside. And except for a lightly scribbled “Juden” on the occasional background wall, there’s little to indicate that this is a village under siege, and the sleepy rhythms of small town life continue unabated.

The film’s paunchiness is quite surprising considering the taut storytelling of Melville’s popular crime dramas. While attributed with adopting American Film Noir to Europe, the influence flowed both ways, as Melville’s raw, gritty late 60s – early 70s shoot’em ups were stylistically copied by several Hollywood films of the period. His last two films, Le Cercle Rouge and Un Flic were both impressive exercises in gripping hard-boiledness, with the latter even surviving a laughably botched helicopter special effects sequence – filmed in unconvincing miniature, the resulting tableau looked like something from Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood – to remain an engrossing entertainment. But this commitment to crystal coherence is sadly lacking in Léon Morin, Priest. Melville attempted to tell a sprawling story of life under occupation – his first cut ran well over 3 hours – but buried in his mountain of celluloid was a deeply affecting story of forbidden love that made the WWII elements clumsy impedimenta. The sensual chemistry between Riva and Belmondo does manage to bubble to the surface despite Melville’s layers of clutter, but it shouldn’t have to work this hard.

The 1.66:1 transfer looks quite clean and sharp, and the Criterion colorists have done a fine job with what the original elements had to offer. Unfortunately the original photography has none of the beautiful, gauzy funkiness generally associated with early 1960s European b/w cinematography. Despite being largely shot on location, the images retain the controlled look of studio sets. In other words, the film looks perfectly acceptable but not actually interesting or unusual. A few scenes enter into the realm of biting noir contrast but, like the film’s narrative, the envelope is never pushed beyond comfort.

The mono track is serviceable, if equally uninspired. Other than a few dribs and drabs of music, the audio is essentially dialogue only with very little ambiance. Again, it has been nicely cleaned up with all the optical track pops and gurgles carefully removed.

French television interview with director Jean-Pierre Melville and actor Jean-Paul Belmondo from 1961
Criterion has unearthed yet another obscure French TV arts program, and this 5 minute segment provided a bit of advance publicity for the film. Belmondo discusses his wide range of recent roles and, despite his status then as a matinee idol, reveals himself to be a serious and thoughtful talent. He is joined by Melville, who describes his working relationship with Léon Morin, Priest novelist Beatrix Beck and his decision to cast Belmondo after seeing his work in Breathless.

Selected-scene commentary by film scholar Ginette Vincendeau

Recorded in 2004, here Vincendeau provides learned background and her personal intepretations of three scenes from the film. Reading from prepared comments, the supplement has the pedantic feel of a lecture, although clearly Vincendeau knows her stuff. She discusses the famous sexuality of Riva and Belmondo, and the efforts made by Melville to tone down and soft peddle. His efforts were rewarded when the French Catholic Church gave the film its Seal of Approval, which resulted in financial success and a busy box office. Vincendeau credits Melville with using Belmondo’s cynical screen persona to add an unexpected dimension of toughness to the character. Lastly, she delves deeply into the differences between Léon Morin, Priest the novel and the truncated version of the story that appeared in cinemas. While there’s some interesting information, Vincendeau’s approach is bit too Film Appreciation 101 for my taste; all the work of university without the mixers and the football games.

Deleted Scenes
Two omitted sequences are included, both of them dealing with the Nazi occupation and its direct effect on the populace. It’s clear that Léon Morin, Priest had a much larger narrative canvas at one time, but Melville’s decision to focus on the relationship of Barny and the Priest made this material superfluous. There are a few characters here that do not appear at all in the final cut, and one of them is a close confidant of Barny, so this unnamed character must have appeared in several more deleted scenes. Melville was wise to cut these examples and, while he was at it, could have cut out several more that he included, in this reviewer’s opinion.

A booklet featuring an essay by critic and novelist Gary Indiana and excerpts from Melville on Melville
At 28 pages, this booklet is a hefty and nicely designed keepsake to Léon Morin, Priest. Indiana writes with great clarity and passion about the film’s history, place in Melville’s oeuvre and its relationship to the nouvelle vague school of filmmaking. Also included are the director’s comments about Léon Morin, Priest reprinted from the 1970 book Melville on Melville, in which he discusses his rationalizations on the casting and his own opinions on religion, which are very different from those espoused in the film. Additionally, the booklet features stills, cast credits and notes on the creation of the disc.

Léon Morin, Priest is a film with a few intriguing and compelling moments, but never adds up to anything greater than the sum of its parts. Melville seemed so concerned with pleasing everyone that he took a fascinating premise – a study of the similarities of military campaigns and organized religion – and through excessive calculation, turned it into pablum for the masses. He ultimately made Léon Morin, Priest a little bit love story and a little bit war story, without ever making a full commitment. The result is a complicated construction bloated with wobbly filler and pointless ornamentation. And, as is usually the case with complex, rickety structures, eventually Léon Morin, Priest comes crashing down.

Reviewed by David Anderson

Movie rating – 2.5

Disc Rating – 3.5