Director: François Truffaut
Country: France
Year: 1962

BACKGROUND

I’ve already told you about Truffaut, right? A tart-tongued film critic who regularly denounced the state of French cinema? Who eventually stepped up to the plate with The 400 Blows and knocked it out of the park on his first at-bat? At the age of 27? Right, so we don’t need to go over that again, thereby increasing my feelings of insignificance?

Jules and Jim was originally what they call a roman à clef (“a novel in which some or all of the characters are based on real people and that usually includes clues to the characters’ true identities”) written in 1953 by Henri-Pierre Roché. François Truffaut praised the novel, calling it “a perfect hymn to love, perhaps even a hymn to life.”

In 1961, after the astonishing one-two punch of The 400 Blows and Shoot the Piano Player, Truffaut felt ready to turn Roché’s elegiac novel into a film.

Though the film is named after the two male leads, the heart of the film, its driving force, is the character of Catherine, played by Jeanne Moreau. Ironically, given the events of the plot, Truffaut began a torrid affair with Moreau while on vacation with her and her ex-husband (Jean-Louis Richard, who has a bit part in Jules and Jim, and who would later collaborate with Truffaut on the screenplays for The Bride Wore Black and Day for Night).

Upon its release, Jules and Jim was immediately and (almost) universally heralded as a masterpiece. Perhaps more significantly, Helene Hessel, the woman on whom the character of Catherine was closely based, praised the film in a letter to Truffaut: “…what disposition in you, what affinity could enlighten you to the point of making the essence of our intimate emotions perceptible?”

Pauline Kael says that Jules and Jim “…ranks among the great lyric achievements of the screen.”

Derek Malcom of the Guardian calls it “…the audacious apotheosis of the French New Wave.”

I can’t make up anything more pithy or accurate than the following quote from film critic Andrew Sarris, who wrote that Jules and Jim celebrates “the sweet pain of the impossible and the magnificent failure of an ideal.”

SYNOPSIS

You said “I love you.” I said, “wait.”
I was about to say “Take me.” You said, “Go.”

Jules (Oskar Werner), an Austrian, and Jim (Henri Serre), a Frenchy, meet in Paris in 1912 when Jules asks Jim to get him an invitation to a costume ball.

“It was while Jules rummaged gently through the clothes for a slave costume that Jim’s friendship for Jules was born…” and soon they are inseparable, reading poetry to each other, discussing philosophy, and (they are men, after all) trying to figure out how to get laid.

“Jules had no girls in Paris, and wanted one. Jim had several.” Jim therefore tries to hook up Jules with one of his excess girls, but none of these dates develop into anything lasting. One night, out walking together, Jules and Jim meet Thérèse, currently employed as the paint-carrier for an anarchist. Introductions are made all around: “Jim and Jules, then?” asks Thérèse. “Jules and Jim!” says Jim, correcting her.

Jim has a previously-scheduled assignation with his girlfriend Gilberte, but Jules offers to put up Thérèse for the night. Back at his apartment, she entertains Jules with some cigarette tricks.

Jules, Jim and Thérèse go out together, but when the two men ignore their new friend, she disappears with another Parisian lothario. “Let her go, Jules,” counsels Jim. “Lose one, find ten more.” Jules sees the wisdom in his friend’s philosophy. With a stray bit of chalk, he sketches a woman’s face on the tabletop as he muses about those ten other women he is now free to pursue.

Jules and Jim visit a friend who treats them to a slideshow. Our heroes are mesmerized by one image in particular; a sculpted woman’s face with a serene smile.

The following day, they have matching white suits made, and set off to an island in the Adriatic to see the sculpture in person. The beauty of the statue exceeds their expectations, and they walk around it in silence, entranced.

Back in Paris, during a break from sparring practice in the gym, Jim shares an excerpt from his in-progress novel with his friend: “‘Jacques and Julien were inseparable…’” he reads. “‘…People called them Don Quixote and Sancho Panza… and rumors circulated behind their backs about their unusual friendship…’”

“It’s quite beautiful,” responds Jules. “Let’s hit the showers.”

At a luncheon party, Jules and Jim meet Catherine (Jeanne Moreau), who has “the smile of the statue on the island.” The camera examines her features from all angles, echoing the earlier shots of the statue.

Jules and Catherine play footsy under the table, and the events of the plot are set into motion.

“Jules vanished for a month,” the narrator tells us. “He saw Catherine every day on his own.” The two friends, formerly inseparable, now see each other only at the gym.

Jules finally invites his friend to have dinner with him and his new amour. “Catherine is eager to know you better,” he says. A beat later, his smile fades and he adds a warning: “but not this one, Jim. Okay?” To emphasize the importance of this point, Jules’ words are spelled out on-screen. (Wes Anderson, a huge Truffaut geek, quotes this line in Life Aquatic.)

On a lark, Catherine dresses as a man, complete with ridiculous motoring cap and painted-on mustache, just like Kim Basinger in 9 ½ Weeks. The two men and their cross-dressing friend hit the streets to test the efficacy of her disguise. “The men were moved, as if by a symbol they didn’t understand.”

The threesome plan a trip to the seashore. While packing, Catherine sets fire to a pile of crumpled paper (“lies”) and nearly immolates herself. She also, inexplicably, packs a flask of sulfuric acid “…to burn the eyes of men who lie.” Catherine is certainly beautiful and charming, but I am beginning to wonder about her mental stability.

While on vacation, Jules confides to Jim that he plans to propose to Catherine. “I’m afraid she’ll never be happy on this earth,” replies his friend. “Perhaps she is a vision meant for all, not meant for one man alone.” But is Jim speaking honestly, or merely angling for his own chance with Catherine? We can’t be certain.

As the friends play on the beach, ride bicycles along country lanes, and hike in the forest, it appears that Jim’s attraction to his friend’s girlfriend may be intensifying… which can only lead to heartbreak and tragedy somewhere down the line.

Catherine accepts Jules’ proposal. “You haven’t known many women, but I’ve known plenty of men,” she tells him. “It averages out. We might make an honest couple.”

Again back in Paris, things seem to be going well for our three heroes: Jim has sold his book; Jules and Catherine are in love. “Jim saw his friends often and enjoyed their company… Jules’ two pillows lay side by side on the bed, and the bed smelled nice. Catherine grew more beautiful and learned to live again.”

“Horror, monster, assassin of the arts, little fool, little slut. The greatest idiocy combined with the greatest depravity.” This is Jules, quoting Baudelaire’s view of young women, a view which he seems to half-endorse. “You are both fools,” says Catherine, and she’s right. “I don’t necessarily agree with what Jules says at 2 in the morning,” Jim protests weakly. Catherine is not satisfied, and dives off the nearest bridge into the Seine, which shuts up Jules and intrigues Jim.

Catherine makes a date with Jim, to ask his advice. He arrives slightly late, waits for an hour and then leaves. Catherine arrives soon after. What did she want to talk about? We are not told.

Jules and Catherine make plans to travel to Germany and marry. “I am very happy,” Catherine tells Jim.

“War broke out soon after,” the narrator tells us. “Jules and Jim were called up by their respective armies, and lost touch for a long time.”

On leave in Paris, Jim visits his old girlfriend Gilberte. When she asks about Jules, he tells her: “No news of him since his marriage. In the trenches, sometimes I’m afraid I’ll kill him.” Jules, we soon find, has the same fear of killing his old friend, and is therefore relieved when he is sent to the Russian front.

“Jules’ country had lost the war. Jim’s had won. But the true victory was that both were still alive.”

Overjoyed to find each other thus spared, the two friends make plans to reunite. Jules and Catherine live in a chalet on the Rhine with their daughter, Sabine; Jim comes to visit. Along the way, he revisits the battlefields where he fought the hardest, writing about the experience for a Paris newspaper.

“Some places had been bombarded so heavily that the land was a mass of iron where nothing could ever grow again. They became cemeteries where Jim searched crosses for familiar names, and schoolchildren were already brought to visit.”

“Should I get married and have children, too?” Jim writes to his friend. “Come and judge for yourself,” Jules writes back.

Catherine meets Jim at the train station: “Jim felt she was making a long delayed appearance for their café rendezvous and had dressed up especially for him.” The trio’s reunion is awkward. In a new house, a new country, with the addition of children and time passed, none of them knows quite what to say. Soon enough, they fall into their old habits, but Jim senses something is amiss.

Indeed, Jules confirms that Catherine is unhappy: “…if things go too smoothly, discontent sets in. She lashes out at everything… I am afraid she’ll leave us.” Jules tells Jim of Catherine’s violent mood swings, frequent infidelity, and increasing attachment to Albert, a musician living in a nearby village. “She’s no longer altogether my wife, Jim… I am slowly renouncing my claim to her.”

On a moonlit walk, Catherine tells Jim her side of the story, which actually isn’t that different from Jules’ version. She has had affairs. She is bored with Jules and his innocence, his lack of authority. “Jules is finished as a husband for me,” she tells Jim, and Jim realizes that he is in love with his best friend’s wife.

The interloper Albert comes to visit, and Catherine sings a sweet, wistful song about lovers meeting then parting and then meeting again. That night, Catherine tells Jules that she is leaving for good. Jules, desperate not to lose Catherine entirely, begs Jim to step in: “Love her, marry her, and let me see her… If you love her, stop thinking of me as an obstacle.”

Catherine and Jim spend the night making love.

In the morning, she asks him to move into the chalet, a solution to every outstanding problem, a solution that makes perfect logical sense, a solution that will ultimately destroy all three of our heroes.

“Time passed,” the narrator informs us. “Happiness isn’t easy to record, and wears out without anyone noticing.” And happiness for Jim wears out pretty quickly when he finds that Catherine is indulging in a bit of “ex sex” with Jules.

Jim has to travel back to Paris to finish some business, but states his plan to return, marry Catherine, and start of family of his own. Jules agrees not to stand in their way. Back in Paris, Jim attempts to break things off for good with his long-suffering girlfriend, but that proves difficult. “Jim could no more leave Gilberte than Catherine could leave Jules. They couldn’t hurt Jules or Gilberte, who both counterbalanced each other as fruit of the past.”

When Jim finally returns to Austria, Catherine is gone. “She’s a force of nature that manifests itself in cataclysms,” Jules says about her. “Catherine’s not especially beautiful or intelligent or sincere, but she is a real woman. It’s that woman that you and I love, that all men desire. If she’s so sought after, why did she give us the gift of her presence? Because we gave her our undivided attention, like a queen.”

Jim is ready to call the whole thing off, but of course Catherine returns. They vow to be faithful to each other, to have a child together: “…the promised land was in view,” the narrator tells us. The next section of the film is preceded by a title: “The Promised Land Abruptly Receded,” which gives us a clear indication where this is all heading.

Catherine does not become pregnant, for reasons unknown.

Jim continues to receive letters from Gilberte. Catherine banishes Jim to a separate bedroom and tells him that she no longer loves him. Jim agrees to leave, while Jules happily comforts his estranged wife.

In the morning fog, Catherine walks Jim to the train station. Finding that the train does not leave until the following day, they spend the night in a hotel. “They didn’t speak, but they made love once more in that cold, sad hotel room, not knowing why – perhaps to bring their story to a close. It was like a burial, or as if they were already dead.”

Once Jim returns to Paris and the arms of the waiting Gilberte, Catherine writes to say she is pregnant. Jim rushes to her side, but Catherine has a miscarriage (or so she claims) and therefore rejects him once more.

Months or perhaps years later, Jim runs into his old friend in Paris; Jules and Catherine are now living in France. Catherine tries to rekindle her affair with Jim, but he resists: “We failed. We made a mess of everything… I’m going to marry Gilberte.” Catherine responds by pulling a gun, and Jim narrowly escapes with his life.

“Several Months Later,” the three friends are reunited once again. “For Catherine, you were easy to get and hard to keep,” Jules tells Jim. Catherine asks Jim to join her in the car; she has something important to tell him.

As Jules watches, Catherine smiles and waves, and then drives off a bridge into the river below. “Their bodies were found entangled in the reeds,” the narrator tells us. “They had left nothing of themselves, but Jules had his daughter.”

WHAT I LIKED

What a beautiful, exciting, human, funny, and heartbreaking film! The friendship between the titular characters is fresh and real and sweet and believable; it made my heart yearn for the powerfully heartfelt male friendships of my youth.

As with all Truffaut films, the pace is unhurried, the filmmaking is technically dazzling without being flashy, and human behavior is observed with a laconic reserve and with great empathy.

The skillful use of music and montage, stock footage to give a sense of time and place, voice-over narration that illuminates without being didactic, freeze-frames, and countless other little technical flourishes add to our sense of Truffaut’s deep and abiding love for the language of film. We share his joy, his exuberance, and realize how rare that feeling is in the cinema.

Jules and Jim begins as a light romp about two young bohemians, making their way in the big city, but eventually turns into something like melodrama. This gradual turning, however, never feels forced or unnatural. Rather, it feels like the very real, gradually increasing heartache of growing up, growing away from treasured friends, realizing that your love or need for someone is not reciprocated, relinquishing your youthful idealism.

Finally, I love Le Tourbillon de la vie, the song that Jeanne Moreau sings. You can watch that scene here.

WHAT I DIDN’T LIKE SO MUCH

I love this film! Unfortunately, I fear that there is also some rather ugly sexism going on beneath the surface. When Jules quotes Baudelaire’s scathing rant about women, I at first laughed, thinking that the point of the scene was to laugh at Jules for quoting something so obviously offensive and wrong-headed. “…assassin of the arts, little fool, little slut.” He can’t be serious, right? Unfortunately, the movie goes on to essentially support his assessment. Catherine’s wanton infidelity and rejection of societal rules eventually brings about Jules’ spiritual death and Jim’s physical death, even as both men continue to idolize her. Jules says that she isn’t beautiful (demonstrably untrue), isn’t smart (insufficient evidence), and isn’t faithful (fair cop), yet he is in her thrall, trotting out the age-old trope of the dreaded femme fatale and the poor innocent man wriggling helplessly in her web.

And what about that infidelity? Jim is no more faithful than she, but his infidelity is portrayed as something normal and entirely understandable, while Catherine’s infidelity is selfish and destructive.

SHOULD YOU SEE IT?

If you can overlook the (sort of) veiled misogyny at its core, yes, you should absolutely see Jules and Jim. It’s funny, sexy, vital, exciting, heartbreaking, and yet, somehow, life-affirming. Jules and Jim is a canny masterpiece.

Next: Kind Hearts and Coronets