Lady Killer (Jean Grémillon, 1937) (Patreon)

On first glance, Lady Killer (Gueule d'amour) is not as immediately stylish or fluid as the other Grémillons I've seen. Certain early scenes felt rushed, and the director seemed to be relying on awkward pillow shots (e.g. the clocktower) with no obvious function. Its narrative engine -- an egotistical former soldier being taken for a ride by an attractive grifter -- is articulated rather rapidly, and I started to think this was Grémillon reaching for but not achieving the Lubitsch Touch.

To say that Lady Killer has a sting in its tail would be a bit of an understatement. And as the film progressed to a predetermined conclusion, my qualms about Grémillon's directorial vision disappeared. One of the things that is most impressive about this film is that it adopts genre tropes (screwball, rube vs. sophisticate) and tweaks them without it being immediately apparent that's what is going on. Like certain Coen Brothers' films, Lady Killer is deterministic both narratively and existentially. Nevertheless, the means of arrival, Grémillon's formal elaboration, makes it a very surprising film.

As much as I admire Jean Gabin as an actor, he may very well be one of those culturally and historically bounded figures, embodying a zeitgeist more than playing a set of roles. Which is to say, maybe you had to be there to buy this doughy, rumpled lug as a Lothario. At the same time, this might be the point. Lucien (Gabin) is a legendary "lady killer" during his stint in the military, seemingly screwing his way across Europe. Once he is a civilian, his gleam is immediately tarnished. Still, he is so accustomed to the "lady killer" persona that it takes him a good long while to figure out that his Don Juan period is over.

The catalyst is Madeleine (Mireille Balin), a lithe, seductive fatale he meets on a trip to Cannes. She "borrows" the money he just collected, loses it in the casino, and (much to Lucien's surprise) ices him out. He thinks the loan was a pretext so she could seduce him; in fact the seduction was the pretext. As Lucien continues trying to track Madeleine down, even showing up at her apartment and offending her mother (Marguerite Deval) and manservant (Jean Aymé), his confidence starts to look like desperation, something he realizes too late.

As the main plot comes together, those odd pillow shots take on a different function, or at least we can start seeing them differently. They are subtle nods to the fact that, despite the inevitable tragedy of Lucien's amour fou, the rest of the world goes on. After showing Lucien trying to convince himself yet again that Madeleine really loves him, Grémillon cuts to a shot with no narrative function: a herd of sheep crossing a suspension bridge. It's stark, and is a potent emblem of Lucien's position (along with that of many veterans returning from World War I), a temporary hero, a man who no longer has a place in the society that was ostensibly saved by his service.

The complications of Lucien's return to civilian life are also class-based. He is a typesetter who works in print shops, and when he does secure work, he is saddled with a condescending boss who micromanages him. By contrast, Lucien's army buddy René (René Lefèvre) is a doctor, and he is able to return to practice in his hometown of Orange with little difficulty. Although the bond between Lucien and René is genuine and absolute, the equality the experienced in the military no longer holds, and Lucien recognizes that René is younger, wealthier, and better adjusted.

In fact, Lucien's friendship with René provides the foundation for Lady Killer's rather startling conclusion. Lucien may pine away for Madeleine; he may be punishing himself by working in a rundown bar; he knows he's a sap. But when he discovers that René is Madeleine's latest mark, and that his friend truly loves her, that is the final straw. The late Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick would've had a lot to say regarding the emotional triangulation between Lucien, Madeleine, and René. Suffice to say, Lucien's actions do not have the repercussions one might expect, especially where René is concerned.

A number of writers have commented on Lady Killer's gay subtext. The title is made literal as Lucien murders Madeleine in a fit of rage. Her elimination allows for the reestablishment and even the strengthening of the connection between Lucien and René. At the same time, Lucien's crime means he must go into hiding, which helps to circumvent any possible homosexual pairing. But one need not necessarily read the men's relationship as queer to understand how Madeleine's death could further solidify their bond. Lucien and René were brothers in arms; upon returning to their daily lives, social stratification kept them apart.

But both men were suitable marks for Madeleine, which tells us that, old and young, or rich and poor, men are first and foremost men, defined by common values such as brotherhood and heterosexual desire. Lady Killer asserts a somewhat conservative message: there is an primitive aspect to masculinity that is present in combat and in the pursuit of women, and these animal drives supersede social differences. But when Grémillon depicts those instincts as being in conflict, brotherhood wins out, and is perhaps itself eroticized. Take that, Manosphere!