Le Samouraï

Jef, a meticulous professional hitman, is hired to knock off a Paris club owner during the evening’s entertainment, but his escape is clocked by several members of the staff. Fortunately for the killer, none get a very close look at him, and he’s turned loose after witnesses can’t manage a positive ID. The lead detective isn’t ready to let things go so easily, however, and his continued inquiries spook Jef’s clientele and stretch his seemingly-waterproof alibi to its limits. A sparse, moody play on the old cat-and-mouse game, Le Samouraï is essentially a quiet duel between smart, studious professionals. Both well-versed in the art of conspiracy, they jab and feint like veteran boxers, seeking weaknesses in the other’s guard while cautiously shoring up their own defenses. Increasingly paranoid, Jef scarcely has time to cover his tracks before the detective (or an emissary of his unhappy employer) comes along to poke holes and kick dirt. I’ll normally lose interest in slower-paced foreign films like this, with their limited plots and heavy reliance on atmosphere, but there’s something different about this one. Watching two perfectly-prepared parallels work the angles and improvise was just enough to keep me engaged and curious. Riveted? No. Impressed? Maybe a little. I think the greater value of this film is in its sleek fashion sense and its lasting influence upon forthcoming directors. John Woo, for example, practically remade the film for 1989’s The Killer.