Day 143: Shoot the Piano Player

“On my birthday, when I said everyone gets a kiss, it was so I could kiss you.”

The French New Wave was a statement by French filmmakers about the climate of Hollywood and French filmmaking in the 50’s and 60’s. In order to bypass typical stories with the same characters and plot setup, directors like Jean-Luc Godard and Francois Truffaut attempted to shift the wave of film making to honest accounts of life. Instead of crafting films with typical arcs and archetypes, they wandered down a path less traveled that allowed for a film to breathe with a sense of spontaneity. Their films were filled with long, gestating moments of dialogue between characters who often betrayed the archetype Hollywood and French cinema established for them. In addition to this,  French New Wave films were highly experimental with narrative structure and editing techniques that were seen as film faux pas. If there was ever a film that summed up Truffaut’s desire to create a film entirely its own, an entity outside formula, it would be his second feature length film Shoot the Piano Player.

Shoot is a bit lighter than Truffaut’s first film, The 400 Blows, but it features Truffaut at his most playful. Such a distinction is realized in the film’s opening frame when we open on a man running through the streets of Paris at a perilous rate from a duo of gangsters by the name of Momo and Ernest. We follow this man, who is named Chico (Albert Remy), for a few moments, thinking we’re being thrown right into his life. Things change though once Chico enters a bar and strikes up a conversation with a local piano player. Said piano player is Charlie Koller (Charles Aznavour), Chico’s brother. Suddenly the focus shifts from Chico to Charles, who despite the film’s opening interest on Chico, becomes our protagonist. Leave it to Truffaut to start a film and put excessive interest on a character who is merely a bit player when everything is said and done. Nonetheless, Charlie is our hero as he attempts to rid himself from a broken past that continually manifests itself in his life. The most notable form of a haunted past is his continuous run in with his brother Chico and Richard, who mock Charlie’s life outside of their crime family.

Knowing that Charlie is indeed the brother of Chico, gangsters Momo and Ernest begin to harass Charlie in regards to his brothers whereabouts. Not interested in getting tied up with crime, nor in throwing his brothers under the bus, Charlie plays things coy for a few days as he dodges through the streets of Paris. Adding more strain to his back is his growing love for the beautiful Lena (Marie Dubois), a waitress who works at the bar he plays at. Amidst the shadows of Paris, Charlie finds a confidant in a woman he’s afraid to talk to, a problem beset upon his fragile psyche when he lost a previous lover. It’s between Charlie’s evading of thugs and finding love that Shoot the Piano Player truly takes off. Truffaut is able to wring out a great amount of noir intensity from Charlie’s battle with his past. It’s to no surprise that this intensity plays handsomely into the hand of the love story that we desperately hope develops into the future Charlie and Marie deserve. After all, when together, the chemistry between Aznavour and Dubois is highly palpable as they represent pieces to each other’s characters. Aznavour is especially terrific as Charlie. He not only gives Charlie a level of street credit when he’s dealing with the gangsters that chase him, but also gives him a sense of tenderness that is only emitted once in the presence of the girl that lingers on his mind.

Charlie’s mounting love is only matched by his desperation to rid his life of a past that won’t quit. Between these two forces lies an amount of surprises that Truffaut employs to keep us on our feet and to avoid expectation. Truffaut does this in a number of ways. One such way is redefining the mindset of a gangster. In the case of Momo and Ernest, they’re relatively violent guys with a passion for criminal deeds. Yet, once we actually have some time to spend with them, they’re grounded guys who bitch about the random things that make up their life. I’d even go as far to say that, if updated for the modern day, Momo and Ernest would fit comfortably into an episode of Seinfeld. In addition to the likes of Momo and Ernest, Truffaut fills the film with an assortment of red herrings that undermine our preconceived notions as to what direction that plot will be going in. This is most noticeable in the final act of the film where two major events occur that one would be hard pressed to guess. So, if you are to watch any French New Wave film, or any Truffaut film for that matter, take a chance on Shoot the Piano Player. You’re expectations will not be met, but then again, that’s the point.