Jean-Pierre Melville's Le Samouraï is a masterpiece of atmospheric and visual storytelling, using its color palette and claustrophobic feel to create organic audience reaction.
Undoubtedly, Le Samouraï (1967) is one of the sleekest films ever made. From its meticulous shots to its lush settings, to its improbably handsome leading man, this film is a feast for the eyes. In creating such a rich visual experience, Melville provides one of the most uniquely atmospheric films ever made. You want to step inside this film, not necessarily because the events taking place look like fun to be in the middle of, but because it is so aesthetically interesting that you cannot help but want to take a walk around Martey's club or Jef's little apartment. In this way, the atmosphere that Melville constructs draws the audience in, puts them amid the action, and stirs a real reaction as the plot progresses. Melville does so through two primary means: color and claustrophobia.
Color
Le Samouraï has an exceptionally muted color palette. Melville creates a Paris of grays, blacks, whites, and beiges- and yet it is more alluring than even some of the brightest technicolor extravaganzas. The color is intentional; it is imperative to creating this atmosphere of cool detachment that Melville cultivates. Alain Delon only ever appears in beige or a combination of grey and black. In his turn as Jef Costello, this makes him look like a product of his environment and also helps him to better blend in with it and easily disappear into it. The bleak color palette is the most integral factor in establishing the atmospheric nature of Melville's masterpiece. The lack of color makes certain scenes look bleak, while it makes others look sleek. Jef's apartment (pictured above) feels small and tight in its dark hues, which adds to the atmosphere of Jef in hiding but also reasserts his cool detachment. With the exception of his bird, Jef has almost no personal effects in his apartment. No paintings, no decor, no nothing. It appears as if he could be ready to pack up and leave with a moment's notice. Melville is meticulous even with these smallest of details because even the most minute inclusion furthers the overarching atmosphere of detachment.
Melville's attention to the use of color in Le Samouraï is also important in the contrasts it strikes. Jef's apartment is the darkest setting in the whole film. On the other hand, the subway tunnels and Valérie's apartment are two of the brightest, the latter having an all-white hallway (pictured below). It is in these two settings where Jef cannot hide, at least not forever. This is also the case with the brightly lit police station and lineup scenes. The brighter colors are Melville's way of insinuating this. The contrast of Jef against the bright hallway makes him stand out much more than he does in scenes in his dark apartment or darker settings such as Martey's club (pictured above). Jef can still blend in with these darker-hued environments, but there is still enough light that he stands out at certain key instances. In creating this visual gradient of environments, Melville provides subtle signals that all is not what it seems or that we should pay more attention because Jef looks out of place, thereby making him more of a target. Additionally, shots of a dark-clad Delon against these brighter backgrounds recalls the "lone wolf," samurai notion that is the core of this film.
Claustrophobia
In a film as atmospheric as Le Samouraï, it is impossible not to become swept up in the environment. This is precisely what Melville wants- the more embedded you feel in Jef's world, the more you react to the events that unfold. As both the police and Jef's old employers close in on him, the film itself becomes more claustrophobic. Upon finding the bug, Jef's apartment- one of the very few safe spaces thus far in the film- is no longer a comforting place. At this point, the sequences become faster-paced, and we begin to see Jef more and more out in the open, again hearkening back to Melville's expert use of color. Jef can only blend in so much in the subway stations and out in the open, and as he expertly dodges the police, the viewer feels that same anxiety, breathlessness, and claustrophobia. The subway sequence and everything after that is so exhilarating because Melville has so deeply ingrained us in Jef's environment by this point that we feel we are running alongside him- we feel the police closing in just as much as he does and it gives the end a really unique but effective and organic feeling of claustrophobia. What is especially artful is that you do not necessarily realize the film is becoming increasingly claustrophobic until it is over. Personally, I did not realize just how effectively Melville placed the burden of the tense final chase on the viewer until it ended. It was a release of the tension and claustrophobia that Melville had skillfully and subtly built up, almost like the viewer catching their breath after a breathless chase and finale, moving from a tense claustrophobia to a refreshing openness. It takes an expert hand behind the camera to build up a palpable feeling of tension and claustrophobia, but do so almost imperceptibly.
Le Samouraï is a film of contradictions. It is deceptively unassuming, yet incredibly intricate as the story progresses. It is muted in its color palette, but incredibly expressive in its use of monochromatic settings. The best part of Le Samouraï for me is the way it fully ingratiates the viewer into Jef Costello's world. Melville's attention to detail is just as meticulous as Jef's process to prepare for his hits. As a result, he is able to effectively use a limited color palette to create lush and memorable environments, which then allows him to produce a real, physical sense of claustrophobia as the viewer sees and senses Jef's pursuers closing in on him. Le Samouraï is a critically acclaimed masterpiece, and there is not much I can add to the discourse that has not already been said, but upon even a first impression Melville's direction and vision shine through to create an unforgettable, thought-provoking, and all around cool, sleek film. Truly, Melville grabs you from the very first shot and does not let you go until the very last.
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