Shoot the Piano Player

Taking a film class in my college years, I was introduced to the French New Wave with an example here and there. I wasn't especially impressed, but I could at least appreciate what the new type of film accomplished. They broke with tradition in terms of storytelling, camera techniques and even just what the actual film could get away with showing audiences. Often enough, I think these films become too self consciously obnoxious, begging audiences to appreciate how original and unique they are. Well, I found one I liked, 1960's Shoot the Piano Player.

Working at a small but successful bar in Paris, Charlie Kohler (Charles Aznavour) lives a quiet life playing the piano for bar patrons on a nightly basis. Trying to forget about an incident from his past, he's content to live his life, play the piano and care for his younger brother, Fido (Richard Kanayan). One night, his brother, Chico (Albert Remy), comes running into the bar, begging him for help because he's got two double-crossed mobsters on his tail. Charlie helps him escape, but the mobsters come looking for him in hopes of getting some answers as to his brother's whereabouts. He does his best to avoid them, hiding out with the help of a longtime crush and co-worker at the bar, Lena (Marie Dubois). Charlie thinks he's managed to shake them, but far from it. The mobsters go after Fido instead to get to Charlie that will hopefully lead to Chico too.

This is a film that defies a simple plot explanation. From director Francois Truffaut, 'Shoot' plays like a tribute on steroids to American crime and film noir stories. It is based off a novel by noir author David Goodis with some pretty major tweaks. Truffaut set out to do something different that audiences hadn't seen, and he succeeds. The opening 10 minutes meander to say the least, following Chico on the run in the Paris night as he talks for minutes (literally) with a complete stranger about marriage. Charlie isn't even the focus of the story until 20 minutes in. A long flashback is dropped into the story explaining Charlie's past and then goes right back to the present time. It's never difficult to follow, but it does force viewers to keep you on your toes, especially with some fast-moving subtitles. I can only imagine what 1960 audiences thought when they watched this one.

Some unique storytelling techniques are one thing, but where Truffaut and the New Wave directors set themselves apart from the norm was in terms of style. His camerawork is aggressive and right there with the action. He follows the action close-up, walking with characters, putting a camera in the front seat of the car. There is a touch of that independent, roguish filmmaking with the camera. Some edits and cuts are rough, other scene wipes coming out of nowhere. More than that, it's how Truffaut pushed the limits. A prostitute (Michele Mercier) climbs into bed with Charlie topless and sits there for several seconds. First off, American movies were still shy about actual sex on-screen (even the implication), much less show nudity. Later, one of the mobsters (Claude Mansard) admits he once wore women's panties, capping off an odd conversation with his partner (Daniel Boulanger) about sex and how all women want "It." Can you imagine any of that in an American film from 1960? Even a little? Um....no.

With so many new techniques in storytelling and camerawork going on, the characters get a tad lost in the shuffle at times. The best though is Aznavour -- a French singer, songwriter and actor -- as Charlie, a quiet, shy diminutive piano player. It's a "hero" unlike any I've seen in a film noir, a hero of sorts that constantly questions what he should, his voiceover narration providing some really funny moments (like THIS one). In a weird way, we feel sympathetic for him, not because he's a particularly sympathetic character, but because there's this almost pathetic aura hanging over him. Whatever it is, Aznavour does a fine job. Mansard and Boulanger similarly play against type as the pursuing henchmen. They're not just killing machines; they have a sense of humor, they argue. It's just one more thing that tries to be different -- and succeeds in most ways -- from the norm in a familiar genre.

More than just the stylistic differences is Truffaut's ability to juggle so many different tones in his ever-moving story. It is a romance, especially Charlie's explained past with a former love (Nicole Berger) but also his current relationships with Lena and Clarisse. It is a film noir, Charlie forced to go on the run to protect himself and Lena. Most surprisingly, it can be really funny. Mansard's hit man says "May my mother drop dead if I'm not telling the truth" followed by a cutaway of an older woman keeling over and dying. It's incredibly dark, but it works. All these different ingredients just shouldn't work so well, but they do. The pieces fit together like a puzzle for the better.

So while things may meander around a bit, introducing characters and backgrounds, Truffaut throwing different things are way.....well, because he can. Too often the French New Wave films were condescending in their unique qualities, but 'Shoot' manages to keep it unique and original without being too cute. I liked it a lot, and that's more than I can say for so many other films from the genre.

Shoot the Piano Player (1960): ***/****