Are there any good French Resistance films out there that people might recommend?
I've always found that story quite fascinating, the fact that the French officially surrendered, but there was an underground movement to fight and disrupt the German forces.
Are there any good French Resistance films out there that people might recommend?
I've always found that story quite fascinating, the fact that the French officially surrendered, but there was an underground movement to fight and disrupt the German forces.
Free Men is very good. It is about Algerian and Muslim members of the French Resistance. I believe their efforts are often overlooked in France.
The Last Metro is set in Paris during the occupation and the Resistance is involved in the story but I haven't seen it in years and don't remember if the film is an actual resistance movie as such.
Battle of Algiers is a great resistance film. It doesn't take place in France, but has a former French resistance fighter as the main character. If you're interested in the French resistance, you'll like this one.
Big fan of René Clément's IS PARIS BURNING? (1966). It's epic-length (approx. 3 hrs.), boasts an all-star international cast and was shot in gorgeous 2.35:1 B&W. The movie still has a horde of vocal detractors, for a multitude of reasons, but I've always held it in very high regard, and the film has a sizable following. Potent, fascinating and very entertaining stuff.
I'll join the chorus of recommendations for The Train directed by John Frankenheimer. While today's CGI-fest spectacles can be a lot of fun, The Train demonstrates the tremendous impact that large-scale practical action sequences can have.
If you're a gamer, you can check out The Saboteur. In it, you play a guy working with the resistance to wreak havoc in occupied Paris.
If you're a gamer, you can check out The Saboteur. In it, you play a guy working with the resistance to wreak havoc in occupied Paris.
Ha! That was my first PS3 platinum. Not quite as smooth as an AC game, but I really loved the atmosphere with the use of black and white (and red), the Paris setting, and the jazzy music. Not sure how historically plausible it actually is, and much of the voice acting cracked me up. But I wound up enjoying it in a laid-back way.
Are there any good French Resistance films out there that people might recommend?
I've always found that story quite fascinating, the fact that the French officially surrendered, but there was an underground movement to fight and disrupt the German forces.
Jean-Pierre Melville's Army of Shadows is one of the greatest films ever made in France, or anywhere else. You should look it up.
[Show spoiler]L'Armée des Ombres is not nearly as well-known as it deserves to be. For a long time incredibly difficult to track down unless you speak French and overshadowed by the reputations of Le Samourai, Le Cercle Rouge and Bob le Flambeur, it's by far Jean-Pierre Melville's most heartfelt and powerful film. The resistance is as much a part of Melville as cinema - Melville was one of the false names he used during the war - and this is a film that feels as if it has been lived by the people making it: it's not so much a tribute as a confession of guilt. Although the gangster parallels are there, it's not an affectation: after the war, many resistance figures famously put their newly learned talents to use by either going into crime or politics. Melville went into movies.
His protagonists aren't action heroes. They don't blow up trains or bridges. They deliver radios and spend more time killing each other than killing Germans. Indeed, the film's four month timespan from October 1942 to February 1943 covers a moral journey that sees them go from killing traitors to killing friends. Many of their plans fail, their gestures often futile as it becomes clear that these people will never live to see the liberation - something brought tragically to light in the film's final moments that carry a real emotional punch absent in Melville's other work. The final image of the Arc de Triomphe glimpsed furtively through the windscreen of a car hurrying away from the murder of a friend is a solemn and bitter one: this is the human cost of victory. (The sequence originally ended with a shot of German troops parading down the Champs Elysee, emphasizing that nothing has changed, but the shot was moved to the opening of the film, acting both as historical scene-setter and leitmotif bookend.)
These people are afraid and ashamed, but that's what makes them so truly heroic and their inevitable fate so truly tragic. They don't need speeches or backstory - they are ennobled by their actions, futile or not.
Irony abounds. In the opening scenes, Lino Ventura's civil engineer and suspected resistance fighter is sent to a barely finished P.O.W. camp built by the French for German prisoners they never got the chance to capture and is now the exclusive domain of patriots, communists and fools waiting `to be broken.' Jean-Pierre Cassel, having eluded Nazi search parties, is stopped by gendarmes on the lookout for black market goods who ignore the radio transmitters he openly and casually shows them before waving him on his way. Even capture is as likely to come from a random identity check at a restaurant serving black market beef as it is from an informer.
It's the kind of film that gives low-key moviemaking a good name. As the film's composer Eric Demarsan noted, "I was struck by the strength of the silences, the looks, the waiting moments." Along with a great use of locations that are deliberately empty to emphasise the loneliness of the life they find themselves in, there's a wonderful use of sound and stillness: a daring attempt to rescue one of their number from an SS prison is played mostly in silence interrupted only by the constant clicking and unclicking of automated locks. When one character is seized, it is so quick and so silent that it is over almost before we know it, with only his signature hat left in the street to show he was ever there. The only `big' moment in the score is the use of Morton Gould's Re-Spirituals in the build-up to the chicken-run scene, underscoring Gerbier's desperate mental efforts to avoid death by an act of will. It sounds melodramatic, but it works, not least because of the sudden violence of the silence that ends it, heralding the end of hope.
Nothing feels sensationalized. Even murder is treated in a coldly matter of fact manner as a practical problem as much as a moral one. You have to kill a man, but you can't use a gun because the walls are paper-thin and it will alert the neighbors. What do you do? How do you rationalize killing a friend? And at what cost? All become more disturbing because they feel all-too real.
Some of the special effects are primitive even for their day, but it doesn't matter: you forgive them because you buy into the characters and the reality of their situation absolutely. And although the London sequences have problems, not least the embarrassingly Christ-like approach to filming De Gaulle, they are an interesting inversion of the French scenes. Here the war is fought noisily and openly with air raids and burning buildings, yet the traditionally repressed British still let their hair down - something Gerbier (Lino Ventura), having lived in secret for so long, cannot. He is left alone at the door to a pub, unable to join in, quietly leaving before anyone even notices him. In France, the war is fought in silence and in shadows, and it is the French who repress their every emotion. One character is even unable to confide in his own brother, completely unaware that his sibling is actually the head of his resistance group.
Even the smallest characters are splendidly drawn, from the gendarme accompanying Gerbier to the prison camp to Serge Reggiani's great matter-of-fact cameo as a barber who displays Vichy posters but holds De Gaullist sympathies. The film is so well cast that you believe in these people on sight. But quietly towering over them all is Ventura in his best performance, with a warmth that is not overt but still there, as well as a weakness - his shame at running at the behest of a sadistic German officer is all too convincing. Indeed, for all the undoubted right of their cause, the unifying feature of the main characters is their growing sense of shame.
Sobering, powerful and very moving - with the only one of Melville's pre-destined endings that is, offering no resolution, only damnation and the promise of death - L'Armee des Ombres is a genuine tragedy.
Review:
[Show spoiler]Jean-Pierre Melville's Le Silence de la Mer now seems an atypical work in light of his later, more widely-known gangster films, but this 1949 adaptation of Vercors' hugely popular WW2 novella can lay claim to having influenced both Robert Bresson and the Nouvelle Vague filmmakers both in terms of its style and its production. The book was written under an assumed name by Jean Bruller and published by a (literal) French underground press during the Occupation, and it's a surprising work to have been written during the war, not demonising its central German character but rather making a kind of plea for understanding - but not understanding the enemy, rather making him understand why even his best and idealistic assumptions are so wrong.
The story is simplicity itself: Howard Vernon's German officer is billeted at a French farmhouse where the owner (Jean-Marie Robain) and his niece (Nicole Stéphane) resist in the only way they can - by refusing to say a single word to him. Introduced as a figure out of a horror film yet transformed in the same shot into a less threatening figure the moment he crosses their hearth, he's not a stereotypical Nazi thug, but rather a more sensitive and naively idealistic figure. Soft spoken and polite, he never imposes his will on his reluctant hosts but rather tries to win them over through conversation, never losing his temper at their refusal to respond like a patient suitor. He dreams of a marriage between Germany and France that will take both nations to a higher level, achieving through the reluctant use of force what pre-war politicians failed to do with diplomacy. He doesn't want an empty conquest but, rather, wants France to come willingly to its embrace. He sees the Occupation in terms of Beauty and the Beast, with the proud Beauty destined through time to see that the ill-mannered Beast is not nearly so brutal as it appears. He even admires their silence, taking it as a sign that France is not some easily won over craven coward but rather worthy of Germany's attentions and the effort to woo her to its side. Yet after an ill-fated trip to Paris it is their silence that ultimately wins him over to the realization that the Beast is far worse than he imagined, a rapacious, soulless figure without redemption, eating away at his idealism with the same ingrained contempt with which it destroys the culture and character of those it conquers.
The film itself had a bizarre history: refusing to sell the screen rights, Vercors eventually agreed to allow Melville to shoot the film after the director promised to submit it to a jury of prominent resistance figures and destroy the negative if any were opposed to the finished film being shown. Made completely outside the studio system over a period of months as and when he could raise the money and film stock for a few days shooting, shot with a non-union crew and going through two cinematographers (Luc Mirot and André Vilar) who objected to Melville's unconventional lighting requests before striking lucky with Henri Decae (making his first fictional feature after working in documentaries), and filmed in Vercors' house in the very same room the author had shared with the real German officer who inspired the story, in many ways it's an exemplary no-budget film, a virtual three-hander that makes a virtue of its economy, although it's not a perfect one. There is far too much narration at times, particularly in the early scenes where what we can see is constantly described (Ginette Vincendeau makes a particularly unconvincing argument that this isn't the case simply because there could have been even more narration in the booklet accompanying the UK DVD) and the relationship with the niece isn't particularly well-handled: there's little sense in Nicole Stéphane's performance that she's trying to hold emotions back, and even small moments like her missing a stitch at a crucial moment in one of Vernon's monologues seems muffed in the execution.
Yet the strengths outweigh the limitations. The situation is a compelling one, the act of passive resistance more intriguing than the more conventional heroics of resistance cinema, and the minimalist treatment is often fascinating. In many ways the film is a bridge between the classic tradition of quality style of pre-War French cinema while heralding a more adventurous and stylised approach, with Henri Decae's often strikingly modern cinematography giving notice of why he would become one of the great cinematographers of French cinema with films like The 400 Blows, Lift to the Scaffold, Plein Soleil and several more collaborations with Melville such as Le Samourai and Le Cercle Rouge. Indeed, Decae's importance to the film cannot be underestimated: as well as being willing to experiment and at once be `anti-cinematographic' yet `classical' as Melville demanded (or to risk the film "looking like crap" as Mirot allegedly put it) he would even work on the post-production and editing of the film alongside Melville. To those unfamiliar with Melville's early work it's a world away from his later crime films (although a brief prologue with resistants exchanging a suitcase with copies of the book on a street corner offers a hint of what was to come), and it's not as powerful or accomplished as his masterpiece L'Armee des Ombres, but it's still a remarkably assured and accomplished debut.
Although it has to be said that the film works better on the big screen than the small one, the UK Eureka Masters of Cinema release is absolutely stunning quality and can easily be recommended over the Russian and Korean DVDs: not only is it better than any of the theatrical prints available for years or Waterbearer's NTSC video release but, considering the technical problems that plagued its production, probably looks better now than it did in 1949. Aside from an interview with Melville expert Ginette Vincendeau, the DVD also includes an excellent 56-page booklet including and extract from her book on Melville about the film and, better still, Rui Nogueira's interview with Melville about the film from the long out-of-print 'Melville on Melville.'
Review:
[Show spoiler]“The best lives are invented ones. I forget who said that. Perhaps it was me?” Thus claims Jean-Louis Trintignant in one of the brief modern-day ‘interviews’ in Jacques Audiard’s wryly amusing and constantly engaging Un Heros Tres Discret/A Self-Made Hero. The main body of the film follows Matthieu Kassovitz’s Albert Dehousse, Trintignant’s younger self, an innocuous underachiever dreaming of heroic acts he never gets the chance to carry out who is devastated when he discovers his wife and new family have hidden their resistance work from him and denied him his chance to be a real hero. Betrayed, adrift and penniless in a newly-liberated Paris, he learns to take advantage of a moment in history when anything is suddenly possible and, thanks to fortuitous friendships with genuine hero Captain Dionnet (Albert Dupontel) and well-connected collaborator Monsieur Jo (Francois Berléand), reinvents himself as a self-effacing hero with just enough inside knowledge to get by. He gets himself photographed in the crowd at war crimes trials, gradually inveigling his way into newsreels with real veterans and even makes capital out of the fact that many of his comrades have no idea who he is by amiably telling them they clearly don’t remember him and shouldn’t embarrass themselves by pretending, shaming them into ‘remembering’ him and allowing him into their inner circle. An honest liar who knows how to listen and to sell the stories of others as his own, often to the very person he overheard it from, he rarely lies but rather omits, leaving his audience to fill in the gaps, just as he never asks for anything but simply takes what is offered because of who his audience has convinced themselves he is.
Not that he’s the only one reinventing himself – the whole nation is as it tries to reclaim its dignity from the shame of Occupation and collaboration, with heroes and tycoons becoming villains overnight and new heroes coming out of nowhere to replace them. At such a time and in such a context, he’s more a symptom of a country that wants to believe in itself again and so will consequently believe almost anything. To one degree or another, everyone in the film lies and reinvents themselves – even the aged resistants rewrite their friendship into distrust for the benefit of the modern-day cameras in light of subsequent events while others choose to believe the lie and even embellish it. In many ways the consummate actor demonstrates what an asset to the resistance movement he would have been as he effortlessly infiltrates the past to invent the person he wanted to be, and his inside track on the mechanics of deception actually makes him far more ideal for his job rooting out collaborators than those who really did fight.
Occasionally including modern-day interviews with fictional veterans and, at one point, a character talking to camera about his life of disappointment and eventual pointless death, despite the variety of stylistic devices it’s a remarkably cohesive and controlled film, putting its various techniques at the service of the story rather than drawing attention to themselves. More than that, it’s also very entertaining and often laugh-out-loud funny, never falling into caricature despite brief moments of surrealism, and a striking well-observed comedy on the foibles of human nature worthy of Billy Wilder that more than amply repays a second viewing.
Optimum’s UK PAL DVD offers a good transfer, though irritatingly the subtitles are not widescreen friendly (not too much of a problem as the film is only 1.77:1 but still a lazy oversight) and includes some better than usual on-set interviews with the director, cast and the author of the novel Jean-Francois Deniau, who throws some light on the real life figures (and there were plenty of Albert Dehousses in post-war France it seems) that inspired the film.
Review:
[Show spoiler]Laissez-Passer aka Safe Conduct is at times almost like Day For Night Goes to War – richly ironic considering Francois Truffaut famously attacked the ‘Tradition of Quality’ in French cinema that screenwriters Jean Aurenche and Pierre Bost represented since both are characters in Bertrand Tavernier’s lengthy but entertaining wartime comic drama that defends that very tradition of cinematic craftsmanship and professionalism. Indeed, the film is based on anecdotes that Aurenche (Denis Podalydès), who wrote several of Tavernier’s early successes such as The Watchmaker of Saint-Paul and Coup de Torchon/Clean Slate, and director Jean-Devaivre (Jacques Gamblin) told about their wartime experiences at German-owned producers Continental Films during the Occupation.
The best-funded but most despised film company in France during the war, many of its employees would later find their careers handicapped by association (particularly Henri-Georges Clouzot, whose critique of informers Le Corbeau was widely criticized as a slur on French dignity), yet among its numbers could be found resistance workers and even Jews protected by the German management who prided themselves on making the best films. While Continental was few French filmmakers first choice, Tavernier shows how many would slyly insert subversive messages into the films while juggling with increasingly absurd practical limitations – not only did they have to limit the length of shots because they could only get short ends of film to use or deal with constant power cuts but often didn’t even have enough wood to build the sets because the studio sold their allocation for coffins for the Eastern Front. The company even rented out office space to the Gestapo to earn a few extra Francs.
Rather than opt for a relentlessly grim view of the Occupation, Tavernier instead focuses on the absurdity of the situation. Much of the strength of the film comes from the way it shows how people adapted their everyday life to an increasingly askew way of life, where bad actors get bit parts in exchange for black market food, extras eat fake stage food because they are so hungry and you can come home one day to find an anti-aircraft gun has suddenly appeared on your apartment roof and keeps on waking the baby. Even the great and the good of French cinema fall in and out of favor in these times just as easily as the obscure: the writer of La Grande Illusion, let out of jail during the day to rewrite a script on the set, writes food into every scene because he’s been starved in solitary confinement for two months, while Jean-Devaivre’s interrogation by British officers during a surreal and unplanned trip to England suddenly warms up when the subject of Maigret and Harry Baur (himself tortured to death by the Gestapo) comes up in the conversation. Yet it’s not unaware that events often took a darker turn, as an early air-raid threatening a children’s ward, a collaborator interrupting a dinner party to beat up a tramp in the street below and one striking moment singling out an extra in a forgotten movie on television powerfully bring home.
Fans of classic French cinema will have a field day with the many references – particularly Douce, Le Corbeau, Au Bonheur des Dames and La Main du Diable as well as figures like Maurice Tourneur, Claude-Autant-Lara, Michel Simon and Charles Spaak - but they’re not essential to enjoying the film. As always with Tavernier, people come first. Tavernier is a director who genuinely seems to like his characters, even (and sometimes especially) the flawed ones, and his habit of providing reasons for doing what they do made this film in particular an easy target for some who saw it as excusing wartime collaboration. Yet the film shows the issue as at once both more mundane and complex than a simple issue of them and us, with even the communist resistance who urge members to infiltrate Continental later turning on them as policy changes. But in their very different ways the two main characters do resist, and each in a manner appropriate to their character. The writer Aurenche resists through the language of his scripts, while the assistant director Devaivre resists with practical actions, in a way representing how it was possible to covertly resist with thoughts as well as deeds.
It’s slightly problematic at times that the two main characters never really meet, with Aurenche increasingly sidelined as the film concentrates on Jean-Devaivre’s attempts to juggle his resistance activities with his work as an assistant director, but it’s a problem you notice more after the film than during it. Chances are you’ll be enjoying yourself too much watching it.
Artificial Eye’s UK DVD boasts a fine 2.35:1 widescreen transfer, and includes an excellent 45-minute interview with Tavernier on the background to the film and its real-life characters.
Review:
[Show spoiler]Aurenche and Bost were among the uncredited additional writers on Is Paris Burning?, itself the subject of much controversy on its release in France in 1966. If the tagline for It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World was ‘Everyone whose ever been funny is in it,’ then Rene Clement’s epic could almost lay claim that ‘Anyone who’s ever been French is in it,’ assembling Alain Delon, Jean-Paul Belmondo, Charles Boyer, Leslie Caron, Jean-Pierre Cassel, Yves Montand, Simone Signoret, Michel Piccoli, Jean-Louis Trintignant, Claude Rich and others (Paul Crauchet, Bernard Fresson, Michel Lonsdale, Patrick Dewaere and Albert Remy can also be spotted if you look hard enough) in a spectacular retelling of the Liberation of Paris. While the French producers intended a great patriotic celebration of the deliverance of the capitol under the threat of total destruction after Hitler ordered nothing be left of the city but ruins, Paramount, who picked up the bulk of the tab, saw it as another Longest Day and padded out the American roles with largely blink-and-you’ll-miss-‘em cameos by Kirk Douglas, Glenn Ford, Anthony Perkins and Robert Stack. Of the non-French top-liners it’s only Orson Welles as the Swedish consul Nordling, frantically trying to avoid unnecessary bloodshed through negotiation, and Gert Frobe as General Von Choltitz, the general tasked with defending or destroying the city, who play a major role in the film. Their scenes easily the best in the somewhat disjointed picture, never lapsing into simple stereotyping and giving a credible face to history.
To be fair, most of the heavyweight French cast are not much more than slightly larger cameos, with the bulk of the film falling on lesser-billed Bruno Cremer and Peter Vaneck’s shoulders, although both characters do bring to light the fact that somewhere along the way the film got somewhat depoliticised from Larry Collins and Dominique Lapierre’s superb book – both Colonel Rol-Tanguy and Major Gallois/Cocteau were key figures in the communist resistance, though you’d never know it from the film. Although the involvement of communists in the Liberation of the city is briefly acknowledged and the De Gaullist figures often identified as such, the left don’t fare so well: ironic considering one of the strengths of the book was in showing the political infighting and jockeying for position between the De Gaullists and the communist resistance, with the armed rising a consequence of each side ignoring the Allies’ strategy so that they could claim they led the Liberation in an escalating game of oneupmanship. Collaboration barely gets a mention either: this is predominantly triumphalist in tone, and as such its often very effective, with several sections carrying a real surge of jubilation as the people take their city back. (However, the involvement of black troops and resistance fighters on the French side is very briefly acknowledged.)
Although primarily credited to Gore Vidal and Francis Ford Coppola, the script was the result of several writers – alongside Aurenche and Bost, Marcel Moussy, Beate von Molo and Claude Brulé also contributed – and there are a few somewhat jarring shifts in style as a result. Despite the political dilution that one suspects was a consequence of getting both the essential co-operation from de Gaulle’s government and the equally essential dollars from Paramount, it does a good job of making the constantly shifting strategies and increasingly chaotic events accessible while keeping the momentum up, but as with most spot-the-star WW2 epics, it’s the vignettes that stick most firmly in the mind: a German soldier, his uniform still smouldering, staggering away from a blown-up truck only to be ignored by a businessman blithely going to work as if nothing were happening; a female resistance worker delivering instructions for the uprising being offered a lift by an unsuspecting German officer after her bike gets a puncture; French soldiers picking off Germans from an apartment while the little old lady who lives there excitedly watches as she drinks her tea; Jean-Paul Belmondo and Marie Versini crawling across a road with their bikes to avoid snipers while a gay man walking his dog watches, before going on to liberate the seat of government without a shot being fired because the civil servants there habitually do what they’re told by anyone in authority; an armoured unit getting a dozen different directions to their destination by Parisians; SS men casually looking through Von Choltitz’s papers out of force of habit; and the general suddenly finding himself alone in a restaurant as the bells of Paris ring out for the first time in four years to proclaim the Allies’ arrival.
The Americans don’t fare as well, all-too obviously being there simply for marquee value (the prominently billed George Chakiris is in it for less than 30 seconds!), although Anthony Perkins’ soldier acting more like a tourist is at least memorable, while most of the German regulars - Gunther Meisner, Karl-Otto Alberty, Wolfgang Preiss, Hannes Messemer – are pretty much stuck in their usual bad/good German roles from every other war movie they ever made (that said, it’s a surprise Anton Diffring didn’t get an invite as well!). In many ways the two real stars of the film are the city of Paris and Maurice Jarre’s excellent score, the film’s only real constant factors as the stars come and go a events move forward. For the most part the film avoids the tourist shots with a great use of locations, giving a sense of a place where people actually live and die, while Jarre’s score manages to counterpoint a militant piano-led theme for the Nazi Occupation with an increasingly stirring resistance theme that constantly runs underneath it, gradually working its way out of hiding and constantly gaining ascendancy before finally flowering into a vivid and triumphant waltz for the Liberation.
A somewhat ill-fated production - producer Paul Graetz died of a heart attack during filming – it was a huge but much-criticized success in France but a conspicuous box-office failure everywhere else, with Paramount swearing off the epic genre for decades to come and Rene Clement’s career never really recovering: his last major film, he wouldn’t work again for another three years and only made four more films. Best remembered today for Plein Soleil/Purple Noon, Clement was a logical choice for the film, having had earlier had much success with previous WW2 films La Bataille du Rail, about the French resistance on the railway network, and the Oscar-winning Jeux Interdit/Forbidden Games, and his direction is for the most part superb, be it the control of a chillingly formal tracking shot along a railway platform casually revealing and passing a dead body or the edgy hand-held work during some of the makeshift street fights. Although the decision to film in black and white which would hurt the film so much at the box-office and on television was reputedly forced on the film by the French government’s refusal to allow the film to fly red and black Nazi flags over the city (grey and black, however, were permitted), it works to the film’s advantage, not only allowing it to incorporate genuine archive footage a little more skilfully than is the norm but also gives it a more verite feel thanks to Marcel Grignon’s naturalistic photography. If at times this feels less like the classic it could have been and more like the best film that could be made under the political and financial circumstances, it’s still an impressive and occasionally compelling recreation of a unique moment in history that deserves to be at least a little better known and better regarded than it is.
Unfortunately Paramount’s DVD is a bit ill-starred itself. Although several behind the scenes documentaries and trailers exist, the fact that the DVD is extras-free is less problematic than the soundtrack. If you choose the English soundtrack, you have some highly variable dubbing of most of the French and German cast (although Frobe is well-dubbed here by Michael Collins, his ‘voice’ from Goldfinger), but if you opt for the French soundtrack you have the equally variable dubbing of the German and American actors (though Georges Aminel does a strikingly good job of dubbing Welles on the French version). Just to add to the confusion, Hitler’s dialogue is all in subtitled German, although in all the other scenes the Germans all speak English! Switching between the languages is a solution of sorts, but an irritating one. Still, at least the DVD preserves the widescreen format and the overture and intermission.
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Any good French Resistance films?
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