Via scrolling text we are
informed that, on Friday, October 13, 1307, the Knights Templar were ordered
burned at the stake by King Philip IV of France. Their crimes: Heresy, Sorcery, Sodomy, and
Black Magic. But the question remains:
whatever happened to their fabled treasure?
Cut to Maxime de Borrego (Roberto
Bruni) and his snooping butler Albert (Annet
Yvon Sarray). Maxime is a modern day
Templar and knows all the secrets about their booty (read that any way you
like). Albert, being the faithful
servant he is, sells this information to Mademoiselle Ermance (who is totally
not a man in drag played by Jacques
Champreux, who also happens to be the film’s writer). Next thing you know, the titular Shadowman
(three guesses who he is played by) launches his quest for the treasure, and nothing
is going to stand in his way.
Shadowman (aka Nuits Rouges)
is Georges Franju’s final theatrical
film (according to IMDb), and it is set firmly in the realm of the European
Supercrook. Characters like Diabolik,
Kriminal, Judex (about whom Franju
also made a film along with Champreux),
Fantomas, and so on all play on the audience’s dual interest in schemes and
geniuses (even when they’re not so much).
Like Hannibal Smith on The A-Team,
we love it when a plan comes together.
We even love it when a plan falls apart.
But most of all, we love watching a plan unfold, good or bad. This is why we love Heist films, why Police
Procedurals are perennial television favorites, why films like Escape From Alcatraz are so
involving. So, what could be better than
a Supercrook after a legendary pile of mystical riches?
The criminal mind behind the
machinations is important, as well. We
love masterminds, whether they be for good (Doctor Who, Sherlock Holmes) or
evil (The Master, Professor James Moriarty).
These people breathe rarefied air from us, because their minds work on a
different level. But our acceptance of
their superior intellects all boils down to the writing behind them and the
actors’ portrayals. Anyone can claim
that they’re a genius, but if they cannot make an audience buy it, they’re just
blowhards. Geniuses can be stoic or
manic or a combination of the two, but they usually favor one over the other
(and even then there is typically a limit to how long their demeanor can be
maintained under duress). Shadowman,
rather surprisingly, goes way over the top into Cobra Commander levels of
psychopathy (probably even higher). His
penetrating eyes bug out at every opportunity, and he flings himself into
situations with unhinged abandon. This
is not the cool customer we’ve come to expect from the likes of Anthony Hopkins’ suave Dr. Hannibal
Lecter. He will kill, and he has no
compunction about doing so. His female
right hand (Gayle Hunnicutt, billed
solely as “La Femme”) mirrors Shadowman’s lunacy and even ups it a notch, if
such a thing is possible. In the midst
of a mission, she kills an elderly lady through whose window she enters. A few moments later, she watches the blood
drip down, a soulless, dead glaze in her eyes.
This sequence is backed by a leisurely, ethereal score (also by Franju) which is atypical for action
scenes but gives this one an almost haunting quality. These characters don’t just kill because they
are forced into a corner. For these
people, murder is something of a perk.
The opposition in the film is
laid out in terms of new versus old, of technology versus antiquity. The Templars depicted here are still an
ancient sect. They carry their rituals
out in old catacombs, surrounded by carved rock. Even in de Borrego’s house, there are hidden
sliding panels (powered by Norelco electric shavers, by the sound of them), but
they lead to dank, musty, old cellars and tunnels. The most modern they get is in their use of
radioactive “Alchemist’s Gold” to track Shadowman (and even this is ancient in
nature, requiring no moving parts or electricity). By contrast, Shadowman’s lair is slick and sterile,
all white and steel. There are banks of
computers from which he controls things like his mechanical taxi driver (I
believe Paul Verhoeven probably saw
this before making Total Recall; yes,
that’s a joke). He has a doctor on call
to turn humans into mindless killing machines in his service. He does partake in the world around him, but
he is just as adept at watching it through a tube and acting directly on it
through same (manipulating reality through televised media). The most low-fi Shadowman and his cohorts
get is in La Femme’s use of a blowgun.
Needless to say, the police in pursuit of Shadowman (lead by Goldfinger
himself, Gert Fröbe) are almost
entirely ineffectual, most likely because they sit between these two
extremes. It doesn’t help any that they
seem to not give much of a shit whenever they have an opportunity to spring a
trap. I suppose this could be a bit of
nigh-existential angst inserted by the filmmakers in regards to the common man
and feelings of powerlessness. That
said, the acting from all concerned does not go very far in selling this anyway
(or go very far at all, if I’m being completely honest).
The core concept behind Shadowman lies in notions of identity,
or more specifically, lack of identity.
Shadowman is referred to repeatedly as the man without a face (recalling
Franju’s own, superlative Les Yeux Sans Visage). We never get his real name, nor do we ever
lay eyes on his true appearance (or if we do, this is never indicated to us as
such). If anything, he is his pure self
only when wearing his red hood, his head a featureless orb with wild eyes. When he wants to be seen, it is always in
disguise. His true persona generally
only comes out in the dead of night (making his name even more relevant). He surrounds himself with assistants who also
wear blank masks (though theirs are black, differentiating him in the only way
he can, all things considered). He has
an army of zombie-esque killers, and they are strictly automatons. They are expendable both in the sense that they
do Shadowman’s bidding but also in their planned exploitation for the
corporations and militaries of the world who will be able to purchase them as disposable
labor/fodder. We do see La Femme’s face,
but she wears a mask of apathy at every turn, distinguished only by the
occasional sneer or grimace. Shadowman
and his ilk work towards a stripping away of individuality, the ultimate in
horror and the ultimate thing we, as people, struggle against on a daily
basis. What makes it worse is that his
motives are nothing but selfish. He
isn’t doing this to make everyone equal.
He is doing it so that he has power over the faceless masses. Consequently, he cannot succeed, but he also
cannot be defeated, because he is the stone that grinds us all down. And even at the top of the mountain, it still
hangs overhead.
MVT: The mean streak running
through this movie is intriguing. In one
sense, it makes it a little harder to get involved in the film. In another sense, it separates this one from
the majority of its kind. I regard that
as a good thing.
Make Or Break: The Make is
the scene when Shadowman shows up at an auction house. He appears from behind a full-size
statue. But it isn’t just that he glides
out from behind it, like he’s emerging on rollers from some surreal Trojan
Horse. He is also in the same position
as the statue, mimicking its form and creating a simulated animation of the
inanimate.
Score: 6.5/10
