France, the "present" (1943). A medium-sized town in the rural Seine-et-Oise region of northern France is plagued by a series of poison-pen letters signed "Le corbeau" ('the crow' or perhaps 'the raven'). Claiming to possess l'oeil Americain (i.e. an "all seeing eye"), the anonymous writer repeatedly attacks the reputation of the town's doctor Germain (Pierre Fresnay), accusing him of carrying out illegal abortions and dalliances with various married women. But the cynical/stoical Germain is far from being the only target of such vicious defamations. The finger of suspicion points to almost every citizen, until Germain realises he must reveal his own tragic secret and expose the true culprit before the community tears itself apart...

Far from endowing us with l'oeil Americain (a telling choice of argot for a 'wartime' picture), Clouzot ensures that we come to question and/or doubt everything shown us by Nicolas Hayer's prowling camera. Or, even more importantly, not shown: as in the film's most famous and virtuoso sequence,  in which the chief suspect, corvine-featured nurse Marie Corbin (Helena Manson) is pursued through the dusty streets by a noisy, tumultuous mob who are deafeningly heard but (a touch of genius, this) are never actually seen. Less inspired is the fact that Corbin doesn't appear after this scene. Manson delivers an outstanding, compellingly ambiguous performance as one of the more vivid characters in a large ensemble where it isn't always easy to work out who's who in relation to whom.

Ferociously attacked by both right and left on its first release, the tense, claustrophobic, ever-so-slightly melodramatic Le corbeau is now generally regarded as a classic parable of life in Vichy France under German occupation - a Gallic counterpart of contemporary, masterful British calls-to-arms such as Cavalcanti's Went the Day Well (1942) and Powell/Pressburger's A Canterbury Tale (1944).

But while the situation in the nameless town is clearly informed by events of the day - and the hunt for le corbeau foreshadows the post-war search for les collabos - there are no actual references to the war, the Germans, or the Vichy government. And as the opening title inform us, this could be happening ici ou ailleurs ("here or anywhere else.") Clouzot's "all seeing eye" ranges wide: his subject is the hypocrisy and friction inherent in any human community, with only the colours, details, vocabulary and clothes changing according to the fashions of the day.

Arthur Miller often stated that, while The Crucible was written in response to the McCarthy witch-hunts, his play isn't just about Salem or McCarthyism. And Le corbeau likewise would make a terrific double bill with Dreyer's Day of Wrath - a 1943 double-bill in which the Clouzot should be played second, as it does feature rather more misanthropy-leavening humour than the austere Danish gloomfest (one or two moments of municipal chaos even have something of a Preston Sturges air), and it does conclude on a note which could be construed as relatively optimistic, with the Crow unmasked and punished in the most severe fashion by an implacable, razor-wielding Nemesis.

But was justice actually done, and seen to be done? Clouzot and his co-writer Louis Chavance (who came up with the nifty scenario) don't quite tie up every loose end with their frenetic climax in which the Crow seeks to shift the blame to supposedly innocent parties. We end up as confused as the hapless Germain - there seem to have been several different writers or various degrees of culpability, and it's entirely possible that the real Crow has flown away scot-free.

Neil Young
8th September, 2005

LE CORBEAU : [7/10] : aka The Crow / The Raven : France 1943 : Henri-Georges CLOUZOT : 92 mins
seen at Vue cinema, Leeds city centre (UK), 7th September 2005 - public show - 'Leeds Film Quarter' (with thanks to Laurence Boyce)