Based on the exploits of a real group of non-French refugees living and fighting in occupied Paris during World War II, “The Army of Crime,” which opens today, is a powerful, gripping story of man’s inhumanity to man, of dedicated partisans and disgraceful collaborators. It’s a tragedy, as it had to be, but it’s a rich, many-layered tale of what humans will endure in a fight for freedom, even a losing fight.
And even though we know something of the final tragedy of this French film, director Robert Guediguian has provided back stories about some of the 22 men and one woman who comprised the group. It makes for a gripping tale and a fascinating movie. The opening scene shows the 23 boarding buses as the roll is called, and we then flash back to the early days of the war.
The men and women of this “army,” were not French, but refugees from Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Romania, the Balkans. Some were Jews, some were Communists. They had gathered in France because they were offered refuge during the 1930s, but they were so violently angered by French collaboration that they took it on themselves to fight the Germans.
Undisciplined, uncoordinated, they fought as individuals, like Marcel Rayman, a Polish swimmer, who would walk up to German soldiers or policemen on streets after dark, ask for a light for a cigarette and, when the German was distracted, would pull a gun and kill at close range.
But there was some organization among them, and soon the Armenian poet, Missak Manouchian (a real person) became the leader. Simon Abkarian is wonderful in the role, a man who believes in poetry and conversation, but who is changed by the time and the place in which he finds himself. Virginie Ledoyen is outstanding as his wife, Melinee. Their love story is rare in the annals of movies; it is deep, and real, and their acting shows two people whose love is all-important, especially in a time of crisis, but can be put aside when duty, loyalty and humanity call.
The most interesting thing about “Army of Crime,” is the ordinary daily action of the guerillas, and of life around them. Young men work, often with their parents, then go off at night to sabotage trains and kill Germans. Buses filled with yellow star-wearing Jews roll through the streets in broad daylight, taking their passengers to the railroad station and the express to Dachau and Bergen-Belsen. Thomas Elek (Gregoire Leprince) is a fine example. His mother works as a seamstress, his parents prefer to stay ignorant of what he does. His girl friend, the sexy red-haired Monique (Lola Naymark), knows, and even takes out what she thinks is an insurance policy, going to bed with an evil French police inspector (Jean-Pierre Darroussin) on his promise that Thomas will be protected.
A modicum of murder and mayhem goes unpunished, but when members of the FTP-MOL, as the freedom fighters’ organization is named, assassinate a top German general and a great deal of publicity is generated, the Germans go into action, using French collaborators and their own intelligence staff to start rounding up the “army,” hanging posters that vilify the guerillas as Communists, using torture on one man to get the name of the next. Scenes with blowtorches and sharp knives are not very pretty.
Serge Le Peron wrote the original story, teamed with Gilles Taurand and director Robert Guediguian on the screenplay. Guediguian’s direction focuses tightly on the various characters, makes Paris part of the plot and generally makes the time and the action as if they were today. A brilliant film.
Army of Crime opens today at the Plaza Frontenac
—Joe