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Easily one of my three or four favorite films. Definitely one for the desert island. There is nothing `brilliant' about this film. Rather, it glows warm and welcoming. The audience is invited to a party and, like any good party, the joy comes in the interaction of the guests, and what you learn as you progress from one to the next. With apologies to Joyce, the film's title conjures up a number of ideas that keep audiences away. The film is not horrifying. It is not depressing. It is a beautiful look into a time that has past, within which people are growing up, and others are winding down. Some are frustrated, and others are serene. And all around, ever present throughout the evening, are the people, and the parts of people, that have been laid to rest. The words these exquisite actors are given to speak are perfection and, set to the music of the Irish brogue, are an auditory feast, particularly to us flat-toned Americans. About the lack of brilliance I referred to above, I take it back. There is no other word to describe the final scene between Anjelica Huston and Donal McCann. It speaks quiet volumes about  well, everything. Some lovely snowy evening, rent this film and just let it happen before you. No gunfights, no car chases, no dinosaurs  just film at its most sublime.


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John Huston finished his remarkable career with one of the most perfect and sensitive movies I've ever seen. For his farewell he decided to adapt James Joyce's beautiful short story, "The Dead", and made not only one of the most faithful literature-to-film adaptations yet, he also crafted a movie that more than 20 years later still surpasses a lot of contemporary cinema.
When I watched this movie a few years ago, as a student at University, I gazed in awe at the screen, marvelling at every aspect of the movie: acting, screen writing, direction, costumes, settings, music, cinematography. Thinking about it now, I still can't of anything I'd criticise it for. Huston just knew how to tell a good story.
A good deal of credit should also go to Tony Huston. He knew better than to meddle with a text that is not only perfection itself but already visual enough for cinema. Father and son let the story breathe and relish in the long, fascinating conversations between characters, and in the meaningful silences.
Donal McCann also deserves credit for the his performance as Gabriel Conroy. I had never seen him in movies before, nor have I seen him afterwards, but he gave one of the most moving performances I've ever seen.
All in all, The Dead is a fine cinematic experience, from a legendary director who never stopped being excellent.


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There are so many '10 Best' lists which could easily fit "The Dead" - Best Screen Drunk, Best Literary Adaptation, Best Use Of Music Not Specifically Written for the Film, Best Use of Poetry, Best Screen Speech, Best Ensemble Cast and finally, perhaps, Best Film Ever Made. This was John Huston's last and greatest film, adapted by his son Tony from James Joyce's short story and set on the evening of the Feast of the Epiphany in the Dublin of 1904. It is confined, largely, to one setting, the home of the Morkan sisters, and not a great deal happens in conventional 'dramatic' terms. They entertain their guests; there is singing, dancing, recitations and much small talk but watching this film you can't imagine anywhere else you would rather be than in this company.
Finally, of course, it is 'about' much, much more. It is about love, loss and regret, those stable mainstays of great drama. In the film's closing scenes the tenor Bartell D'Arcy, (Frank Patterson), sings a song, 'The Lass of Aughrim' which conjures up in the mind of Gretta, (Anjelica Huston), wife of Gabriel, (Donal McCann), the ghost of her first and probably greatest love, a boy who died in all certainty of a broken heart at the age of seventeen, and suddenly Gabriel realises he has never really known his wife and that he has not been the great love of her life, after all. Emotionally, these scenes are incredibly powerful, firstly as Gretta recounts the circumstances of her lover's death and then as the voice in Gabriel's head sums up his own feelings. This is great cinema, the monologues superbly delivered by Huston and McCann.
But then all the performances are extraordinary. This is ensemble playing of the highest order and while it would be invidious to single out one performer above another, has the screen ever given us a more likable, genial or convincing drunk than Donal Donnelly or has poetry ever been delivered with such passion that Sean McClory, (the IRA man in "The Quiet Man"), brings to his reading of Lady Gregory's translation of 'Donal Og' here? Added poignancy is to be had, of course, from the knowledge that Huston himself was close to death when he made this film which seems to me the culmination of his life's work. Death may well be its central theme but viewing this film is a life-enhancing experience.


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For his last film, John Huston directed his daughter, Anjelica, in this adaptation of the story from James Joyce's "Dubliners", and he gave us one of his finest achievements to remember him by.
Joyce is about as impossible to film as anyone, but "The Dead" at least presents a traditional narrative to work with. Much (indeed, almost all) of the important information in the story lies in the spaces between the lines, in characters' thoughts and expressions -- there are big moments, but they're cerebral -- they're not the stuff of which movies are made. But somehow, Huston gets it right, and he manages a nearly flawless adaptation.
Anjelica is magnificent, and the movie is haunting and powerful.
Grade: A


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In print this is one of the greatest short stories ever written, brought brilliantly and poetically to the screen by this father-son team, working together, sadly, for the first and last time.It is fitting that John Huston should end his career on a high note by bringing the work of one of his favorite author's to the screen, in what is easily the best Joyce screen adaptation. Huston made a career of adapting great works of literature to film, usually quite successfully. It is sad, and somewhat puzzling, that Tony Huston pretty much began and ended his career in film by adapting what would be his father's final project and picking up a well-deserved Oscar nomination in the process.
I once had the privilege of sitting in the company of the great screenwriter/playwright Horton Foote, who cited this film as one of his favorites in recent years (at the time it was still a fairly recent release). As a rather prolific screenwriter himself (and a brilliant screen adapter of his own works, as well as great authors such as Faulkner, Steinbeck and Harper Lee) he was obviously impressed with Tony Huston's first time effort, and possibly equally puzzled by his lack of output since then. If anyone has insights to share on the topic I'd be interested to hear more.


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Not often it happens that a great director´s last movie becomes such a moving, brillantly performed and filmed masterpiece. The cast is excellent as well as the camerawork. What starts up as a merry coming-together of a group of well-educated citizens of an early-20th-century- Dublin turns into a dark, philosophic narration about all our fear from death and the sometimes dark shadows of the past. Thank You, Mister Huston, for this last piece of great cinema!


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I believe John Houston's "The Dead" is a true classic. Not only was it Houston's final film, he is quoted as saying "all I know about film making is in this film." The story, closely adapted from "Dubliners" by James Joyce, is a great ensemble piece featuring sterling performances by Angelica Houston, John's daughter, and a cast of English and Irish actors who bring the story to life. This is a film that should be part of any serious collection, not only because it is visually elegant, but because the story is timeless and very appealing. The film is not hurried, nor is it charged with action. Rather, the story unfolds from within the characters, who bring light and meaning to the dialog. The end of the film is stunning, poetic, and haunting. I recommend "The Dead" without reservation as one of the finest films ever made.


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This is really the only chance to see the magic of James Joyce's writing brought to life. His novels are all unfilmable (in any real sense) and this is the only long story he wrote. It was John Huston's last film and did not reach the screen until after he had died, and it is easy to see his touch of greatness. The Dead is poetical in its approach on the screen, telling us more about Ireland than any modern movie on the IRA and "the troubles" could ever hope to tell us. Hopefully more people will watch this film and get to experience the finest of both John Huston and James Joyce, and perhaps visit this story in your local bookstore (and discover that it is probably the greatest short story ever put on paper).


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Naturally in a film who's main themes are of mortality, nostalgia, and loss of innocence it is perhaps not surprising that it is rated more highly by older viewers than younger ones. However there is a craftsmanship and completeness to the film which anyone can enjoy. The pace is steady and constant, the characters full and engaging, the relationships and interactions natural showing that you do not need floods of tears to show emotion, screams to show fear, shouting to show dispute or violence to show anger. Naturally Joyce's short story lends the film a ready made structure as perfect as a polished diamond, but the small changes Huston makes such as the inclusion of the poem fit in neatly. It is truly a masterpiece of tact, subtlety and overwhelming beauty.


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I've been waiting years for THE DEAD to come out on video, having pretty much worn my VHS copy to shreds. This is one of the most beautiful films ever made for the holidays. It takes place on the Feast of the Epiphany (Twelfth Night), and is a simple, poignant vignette of characters attending a dinner prepared by three Dublin women. Central to the story is a fairly loveless couple, a wife who once passionately loved a young man who died for her and a man who wants to feel the same kind of passion for his wife, but feels incapable. All of the performances are stunning, and the script weaves among the various characters at the dinner beautifully. Of course, its source material is James Joyce's short story of the same title, and much of his narrative structure is kept fully intact. John Huston's long career as one of Hollywood's greatest filmmakers had a truly fitting finale with this film, which was scripted by his son, Tony Huston; stars his daughter, Anjelica Huston; and is dedicated to his wife, Maricella. Thank you to Lions Gate for picking up the rights to this film and releasing it on DVD. For lovers of all things Irish or for folks looking for a literate, subtle, yet incredibly moving holiday film, this is a true gem.


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James Joyce, arguably, could write some of the best sentences in the English language, and his short story, "The Dead," which ends his collection The Dubliners, containsin its finaleperhaps the most perfect paragraph in the English language. It's fitting that John Huston, who held back in attempting to film this story, ended his career with it. As with The Red Badge of Courage and The Man Who Would Be King, Huston revered the literary source but made the adaptation cinematic. And with "The Dead" (which was completed after Huston's death by his son, Tony Huston) we get something nearly perfect in the marriage of literature and cinema.
Valuing all that cinema can do, as one of the commentators points out "this isn't The African Queen" (nor does it need to be), this is the kind of movie that is uncompromising for an audience. All of us slogged through Portrait of an Artist in school, and one needs to bring the maturity of appreciating how words and images in and of themselves can touch us. As with silent films, Huston seeks something pure here, and he works with the confidence of his many years and leaves the world a masterpiece that equals Joyce's original.
Many veterans of the Irish theater world are recruited to bring the story of a man filled with self-importance (and mock self-doubt) that's reinforced by the hosts of an annual party on the eve of the Feast of the Epiphany. What's in store for Gabriel Conroy is an evening of celebration, song, dance, poetry where he's asked to give the annual toast to the two sisters and their niece who host the party. He's distracted by the task wanting to rise to the occasion, and this distraction leaves him vulnerable for an earth-shattering experience, handed to him by his wife. While his ego is shaken when he hears a story from his wife's past, it's also a gift where all that seems to have mattered throughout the evening is swept away by the realization of impending mortality for all who are living.
And rather than trying to make the last famous paragraph of the story "cinematic," Huston brings in a voice over and we hear those incredible words recited as we watch "the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling." It's the perfect solution to a filmmaker's adaptation.
The cast is all we would hope. Since this is basically a testament to the power of the written word and how it brings us together through common experience each performer seems elevated by their role. Anjelica Huston as Gretta Conroy has a wide range to play, and her account of a young boy who once loved her sears not only Gabriel Conroy, but the audience as well.
When I think of Anjelica Huston, it's the transformation she makes in this film; and when I think of her father, it's this film I remember first.


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The Argentinian music poet, Atahualpa Yupanqui, once said that some folk music repeats similarly at any country of the world. They look the same but everybody consider them as their own folk music...
This film, as I feel it, is about the same music that repeats all over the world at some time of each country's history. First, a few listen it playing and try to make the others hear it. Then some, believe that they hear it, but they don't. Then, nobody says anything and some people appear to listen to it. And others recognize that they have heard it, but didn't think that others might be hearing it. Finally, everybody listen to the same music, and suddenly it doesn't sound any more...
Love and poetry, as a real nationalism and the legacy of a father to his children...
Why would he call the film, The Dead when nobody dies? The Spanish translation of the title refused to follow the same rule and we call it Dubliners, following James Joyce's title...
A nice 1900 Irish filmed postcard!


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Saw this film at the NFT in London where it was showing as part of the BFI's John Huston season. I wasn't really sure what to expect and the first few minutes of the film gave very little away. In fact the rest of the film continued to give little away! No real plot, no action, no suspense, very little drama and, except for a short section at the very end, no scenery.
The result of lack of all of these features was, however, a wonderful film. I don't fully understand why, but I think that its understated nature made the film almost completely perfect. The acting, script and, most important of all, the casting were all spot on and I can't remember walking away from a cinema feeling so good, but I still can't work out why. I just know that I will be getting the DVD (this is one of those films that will, I am sure, be just as good on the small screen as the cinema experience, provided that you can find somewhere quiet to watch it!) and I will be watching it again soon. I will be also interested to find out what my family and friends think of it. I'm sure that it will not be everybody's choice but I am convinced that a large number will agree with my view.
9 out of 10.


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John Huston made many remarkable and memorable films. Those most often and easily recalled were released long before his passing in 1987. It was that year, however, that reminded us that Huston was still at the top of his game as evinced by his faithful adaptation of James Joyce's acclaimed novella "The Dead."
Once long ago, a very wise man called Doc asked me, "Doesn't "The Dead" seem remarkably more vivid and bright than any of the other stories in Dubliners?" I tend to think that it is. The story and film both contain some of Joyce's societal comments and criticisms, but for the most part, paint a warm and loving portrait of an Ireland Joyce himself so often railed against and would shortly leave.
Huston's handling of protagonist Gabriel Conroy, who realizes the world as he sees it is nothing more than an illusion, is simply remarkable. To claim that the film lacks plot is to miss the point. As with any of Joyce's Dubliners, plot--while most certainly present--is not the focus. Plot is merely a tool for the conveyance of the protagonist's epiphany. In addition to a seeming lack in action, there is quite frankly little dialogue in Joyce's short story for the director to lean on. Huston's ability to translate what Joyce puts in words into visuals is quite possibly the movie's greatest triumph. Feelings, thoughts...Gabriel's discomfort during the dance...all these intangibles leap to life and come within the viewer's grasp in Huston's portrayal.
To claim that Huston has softened his writer's criticism of society again misses the mark. While "The Dead" may be painted with a cheerful hue, the complacency and pretense of the film's characters is but a comment on society on a smaller scale: we are the toddling old aunts; the embarrassing drunk; the tenor with the sore throat; the wife with the sad, rain soaked secret; even the self-deluded middle-aged man.
But "The Dead" belies its title. It is not a dark story. Nor is it really that bleak. Forget for a moment the snow falling on the living and the dead and the inherent symbolism in it; forget the shambles of a life Gabriel awakes to at the film's end: it is only with the destruction of the illusions Gabriel has of himself and of his world that he can truly go forward. Such is the central point of the film. Such is the central point of our lives.


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"The Dead" truly is a work of art. Clearly, John Huston meant to show that he was still "in the full glory of some passion" by making it, even as his body was failing him. This movie is powerfully affecting and lingers in the mind long after it is done. Reading the Joyce short story certainly adds more depth to the characters, especially Gabriel's inner turmoil, but the essence is all there in this film. As a statement by an artist of his love of life and his craft, "The Dead" stands alone.


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Because of the depth of his character studies and complexity of story lines, James Joyce's works do not easily translate into film. Yet John Huston, in his last film before his death, achieved a perfect translation of Joyce's story. He received great support from his son, as writer, and daughter, as actress.


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Writers and directors, by the nature of their craft, stand back a frame from the action in their work to show insights about characters and situations. Here, Huston and Joyce have stepped back a bigger frame yet to show us the ultimate view of what it means to be human. Until it's very end the movie appears to be about nothing much, the kind of typical circumstances that fill every day life. It is not until the end of the very final scene that we realize that it is in fact about everything.
It is not possible to watch this final scene without simultaneously feeling pity, and also deep affection, for oneself and the rest of fellow beings.


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John Huston, actor and director better known for more robust fare such as "The Misfits" and "African Queen," directs his daughter, Angelica Huston, in what would be his last film. Indeed, the film was released after Huston's death. Based on James Joyce's novella of the same name, "The Dead" tells the quiet story of a New Year's celebration in 1904 Dublin. Huston, his cast and his screenwriters, including his son Tony, have created a gem of a movie. The novella is among Joyce's finest works (as well as being the only one that is filmable). The film is a tribute to Huston's genius. He has taken a small,beautiful story and has made a small, beautiful movie. Donal McCann and Angelica Huston shine (although "shine" is too showy, too flashy a word to describe their quiet, understated performances). "The Dead" reflects the Huston family's love for Ireland and is, in its own quiet way, a fitting final movie for a legend.


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This is possibly the most perfect film I have ever seen - in acting, adaptation and direction. It is self-contained and of a kind, so there is no point in saying that it is better or worse than other great films, just that it can stand by itself as a perfect work of art.
And it was fun watching confused horror fans getting up and walking out!


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I first saw this film in Austria when it first came out, and I was entranced by it. It is a passionate and deeply moving work that should be experienced by all connoisseurs of motion picture art. What a shame that it has never been released in DVD format. Perhaps one of these days that will be rectified, as it would be a shame indeed if one of the best films ever made was forgotten and left to fade away in some film vault forever.
Why is it that 'B' movies like 'American Wedding' and 'Eurotrip' get widescreen and fullscreen releases, and often a special edition with multiple commentaries and extras, while great art pieces like 'The Dead' are all but forgotten?


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A rare exception to the rule that great literature makes disappointing films, John Huston's beautiful farewell to life and the movies is almost entirely true to the narrative and the spirit of James Joyce's short story, a tender meditation on love, death and time expressed in the events of a Twelfth Night party in middle-class Dublin circa 1910. Unpromising as the material might appear, the film succeeds by its willingness to tell the story on its own quiet, apparently inconsequential terms, rather than force a conventional cinematic shape of plot points and dramatic incidents upon it. Only once is the wrong note struck, when old Miss Julia (a trained singer and music teacher whose voice is supposed to have been cracked by age, not shattered) sings so badly that the audience burst out laughing when I saw this at the cinema. Fortunately, the mood of hushed and gentle melancholy is re-established in plenty of time for the moment of revelation between the married couple Gabriel and Gretta Conroy in a hotel bedroom as snow begins to fall outside. It's a sad story, I suppose, but the kind that leaves you feeling better, not blue. Especially recommended as a date movie - for people in love who aren't frightened of confronting the sweetness and sadness of life.


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This is not a film is a clever, witty and often heart touching movie. It's a retrospective of a failed relationship between Michael Connor (Michael Leydon Campbell) and his estranged Irish girlfriend Grace Mckenna. Michael down on his luck decides to make a documentary replaying his whole relationship and what went wrong. He exploits his friendship with an actor he met at the gym Nadia (Nadia Dajani) who he gets to play Grace. The concept of this film is very original. Michaels relationship is shown from every point whether it's a high or low. Michael Leydon Campbell pulls off a fantastic performance that makes you want to help him find Grace. If fact most of the characters pull off great performances except the puzzler. The puzzler is needed to move the plot along yet seems too surreal to exist in a coffee shop. His monologues are often overdrawn and pointless. This is proved when he says "Out of this chaos, we're all trying to create order. And out of the order, meaning. But in reality there is no such thing as meaning. Something only has meaning if we make it have meaning."
The commentary saves this movie. The commentary is done in the vain of This is Spinal Tap and has Michael and his brother explain the problems they had while making the film. Michael offers a very funny self conscious commentary that makes for some very good belly laughs.
Overall I'd give this movie a 7/10.


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I was plagued by nightmares involving Sesame Street and the Muppet Show during my childhood. I loved the programs, but when I slept, I'd dream about muppets not unlike the ones on TV...but not quite the ones on TV.
They would speak gibberish and laugh and sing while eating each other and killing each other. They'd take a bite of their cute felt flesh and it would tear apart followed by arterial bleeding. NICE! But that was the past...I LOVE THIS SHOW! I saw Peter Jackson's MEET THE FEEBLES years ago and wondered why there wasn;t similar work out there. Well here it is, as sick, twisted and somehow socially potent the old Hobbit's vision.
If you like this show, and you haven't seen MEET THE FEEBLES, get it on Amazon or some such film source. You're in for a treat.
By the way, Clarence would totally kick Triumph's dog ass.


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I'm torn about this show. While MOST parts of it I found to be HILARIOUS, other parts of it I found to be stupid and simply shock for shock sake. The off the wall parody of some of the cartoons are brilliant as indeed are a lot of the scenes with the children. However, I don't think it's clever getting little children to say rude things. It's not that I think "oh poor children, they're being exploited" - it's just that it's really not clever!! It's something that ANYONE could do, therefore making it as simple and pointless as making a paper airplane. In order to make this show better they would have to stick to the natural responses from children, which I think can be funnier than the scripted at time.
By far the funniest part of Wonder Showzen is Clarence, the blue puppet who wonders around the streets talking to and annoying strangers. It's really funny and it's mostly improvised. Seeing him in a long scene about the importance of patience test the patience of an EXTREMELY patient man, was by far the funniest scene in my opinion.
You should watch this show though because all in all it's very funny, even if it is stupid at times.


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Seeing this show gives me respect for MTV, though i imagine that MTV sees this random, edgy material as its main selling point and is much less concerned with the pertinent truths it expresses.
I write and play music for a living and this show gets me really emotionally riled up. For me, Wondsershowzen serves a completely distinct function from most TV. Instead of dulling or distracting the senses, (which can be often really nice at times), it awakens my spirit of right and wrong. It makes me very uncomfortable, but in a very comforting way.
I don't think a lot of viewers absorb most of this show's content, but if they do, kudos to television viewers everywhere.


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I love this show. My girlfriend was gonna get an abortion until we both watched Wonder Showzen one night. Luckily, she killed herself before the baby was born. Though technically I think it was considered a murder-suicide.
My first thoughts upon seeing Wonder Showzen? Now I know what God watches when He jerks off all the time.
Wonder Showzen is to television what a toaster in the bathtub is to my self-esteem.
You know how George W. Bush makes speaking gaffes all the time? Tyler wouldn't. Tyler's good. Tyler cuts his nails. He's Tyler. He's good. Tyyyllerrr...


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Sex, drugs, racism and of course you ABC's. What more could you want in a kid's show!
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And I love it!!! Wonder Showzen will pick up a cult audience and once it's canceled, the DVD sales will go though the roof. This is a very funny show in it's own ways. It's a parody of children's shows, namely Sesame Street. Our puppet characters consist of Chauncy, a yellow furry monster with a hat, whose our host. Clarence is a blue lizard like thing that does his own segments where he goes out on the streets. Him is a weird dog like thing that refers to himself in the third person. Wordsworth is the smart one whose brain always shows. Then there's the newscaster and the pink puppet. It's a very funny show, not really as nasty as you'd expect, but more the situations. They take 7 year olds out on the street, tell them what to say, and have them make mean jokes that they don't understand. My favorite segments are Clarence's videos, especially when somebody doesn't want to be filmed. I prefer TV Funhouse, which was a similar show, but this is still a very funny show that I hope lasts for years to come.
My rating: *** 1/4 out of ****. 30 mins. TV MA.


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Quai des Orfevres takes too long getting going, with Clouzot so enamored of his back-stage milieu that he is almost in danger of forgetting the story. However, once it does, it's Clouzot at his best. Bertrand Blier (father of Bertrand Blier and co-star of his Buffet Froid) is the worldworn pianist who married beneath himself and who plans to kill the seedy studio mogul with designs on his wife only to find that someone has beaten him to it. Not only that, but his carefully planned but clumsily executed alibi falls to pieces, not least when a thief steals his car at the murder scene
The film really kicks into life with the arrival of Luis Jouvet's police inspector, a rather wonderful creation half Alistair Sim in Green for Danger and half world-weary Maigret with better dialog. In a neat running gag, his investigation is constantly conducted at the top of his voice against chaos and noise, whether it be the noisy typewriters of the police station or a loud rehearsal. The police station itself is a wonderfully realistic creation, a wealth of chaotic and telling small details that makes Steve Bocchco's once revolutionary 80's US cop shows look like antiquated museum pieces by comparison.
If Suzy Delair is a rather unconvincing femme fatale, the supporting cast more than compensate, with the beautiful Simone Renant a standout as the lesbian photographer in love with her from afar and constantly mistaken for Blier's lover by Delair and other interested parties (only Jouvet, similarly unlucky with women, understands and genuinely sympathises). With great black and white photography by Armand Thirard, this is a terrific little thriller with a nice twist ending and a lovely scene with a cab driver reluctantly identifying Renant in a police station. (Trivia note: Pierre Larquey, who played the playfully philosophical Dr Vorzet in Le Corbeau, turns up in smaller roles as a cab-driver in both Quai and Les Espions.)
The Criterion DVD is quite superb - great picture quality plus an illuminating extract from a French TV show featuring interviews with Clouzot, Blier and Renant.


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"Quai des Orfevres", directed by the brilliant Henri-Georges Clouzot, is a film to treasure because it is one of the best exponents of French film making of the postwar years. M. Clouzot, adapting the Steeman's novel, "Longtime Defence", shows his genius in the way he sets the story and in the way he interconnects all the characters in this deeply satisfying movie that, as DBDumonteil has pointed out in this forum, it demonstrates how influential Cluzot was and how much the next generation of French movie makers are indebted to the master, especially Claude Chabrol.
The crisp black and white cinematography by Armand Thirard has been magnificently transferred to the Criterion DVD we recently watched. Working with Clouzot, Thirard makes the most of the dark tones and the shadows in most of the key scenes. The music by Francis Lopez, a man who created light music and operettas in France, works well in the context of the film, since the action takes place in the world of the music halls and night clubs.
Louis Jouvet, who is seen as a police detective, is perfect in the part. This was one of his best screen appearances for an actor who was a pillar of the French theater. Jouvet clearly understood well the mechanics for the creation of his police inspector who is wiser and can look deeply into the souls of his suspects and ultimately steals the show from the others. In an unfair comment by someone in this page, Jouvet's inspector is compared with Peter Falk's Columbo, the television detective. Frankly, and no disrespect to Mr. Falk intended, it's like comparing a great champagne to a good house wine.
Bernard Blier is perfect as the jealous husband. Blier had the kind of face that one could associate with the man consumed with the passion his wife Jenny Lamour has awakened in him. Martineau is vulnerable and doesn't act rationally; he is an easy suspect because he has done everything wrong as he finds in the middle of a crime he didn't commit, but all the evidence points to the contrary.
The other great character in the film is Dora, the photographer. It's clear by the way she interacts with Jenny where her real interest lies. Simone Renant is tragically appealing as this troubled woman and makes an enormous contribution to the film. Suzy Delair, playing Jenny, is appealing as the singer who suddenly leaps from obscurity to celebrity and attracts the kind of men like Brignon, the old lecher.
The film is one of the best Clouzot directed during his distinguished career and one that will live forever because the way he brought all the elements together.


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This is an exceptional picture with so much to recommend it. The acting and writing are terrific and there are lots of great twists and turns in the plot. As a French "Noir" film, its language is certainly a lot earthier than its American counterparts, but to me this just added to the realism. Additionally, I liked how non-glamorous everyone was--particularly the husband and the lieutenant. About the only negative, and the reason the film gets a 9 and not a 10, is because there was a glaring plot hole. Like another famous French film, Drôle de Drame, the confusion between the cops and the accused could easily have been settled in the beginning, but the characters made rather stupid decisions. For this, you just need to suspend disbelief and keep watching--the payoff is well worth the wait.
This is simply one of the finest French films I have seen. Period.


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First of all,there is a detective story:"légitime défense" by Belgian Stanislas André Steeman whose "l'assassin habite au 21" Clouzot had already transferred to the screen in 1942,with Pierre Fresnay and the same actress Suzy Delair.Steeman complained about Clouzot's adaptation for both movies.The movie from 1942 was excellent,but the "detective story" side had been kept,so why complaining?As for "Quai des orfèvres",Clouzot was now in a new phase of his brilliant career.After having directed "le corbeau" and been blacklisted,he had a lot more to say than a simple whodunit.Steeman complained essentially about the poor detective ending,which I will not reveal of course,but Clouzot focused on the social vignettes,on his characters's psychology,and he did not give a damn about the puzzle à la Agatha Christie.By doing so,he becomes the genuine predecessor of CLaude Chabrol who has always been closer to him than to Alfred Hitchcock whom he admires much though. Suzy Delair has great screen presence,and you will love the song she really sings(she was a singer too)"avec son tralala".Bernard Blier gives ,as ever,a sparing of gestures and words performance,and he really pulls it off .Two characters are particularly interesting and disturbing:the first one,Dora,the photographer:she takes pictures of female models ,and Clouzot,by subtle touches,reveals us she's a lesbian.Of course,the word is never uttered(How could it be in 1947?) The police chief (fabulous Louis Jouvet) tells her:"You and me,WE are not lucky with women."The portrait of this cop is very detailed:we learn a lot of things about him,not necessary connected with the Delair/Blier plot:he's a widower ,with a son he adores and who runs into school difficulties,particularly in geometry.So we get to know all the characters in depth.One of the most important manifesto of post-war French cinema.


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The Director loves the actress and it shows. The actress inhabits the character, whom we love at first sight and sound. The character loves her jealous unprepossessing husband and he loves her. His childhood friend secretly loves his wife and the fact that his friend is a beautiful woman makes the love tragic and ironic. His wife is jealous of his childhood friend and thinks her attentions are out of secret love for her husband.
Then there is a murder and the investigating police lieutenant, who loves only his bi-racial son, and resents being taken from his company by the above characters, who have had some unpleasant contact with the deceased and are all lying to one degree or another, unravels the mystery with some of the most precise and authentic procedural detail ever captured on film.
And then there are the atmospherics of a post-war Paris, where coal is in short supply, music is filled with erotic longing and wistful memory, and innocence has long ago been washed away by the rain.
All of this in a milieu of magicians whose tricks don't always work, dogs who walk on their hind feet and express music criticism, hungry news reporters and exhausted cops.
And then there are many of the finest actors of their generation who have been through some very bad years directed by, to come full circle, a man who is in love with his lead actress and who, with full justification, was a respected friend of Picasso.
I've seen this film often and I love all of them and it.


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A nice, humorous mix of music hall (in the first third mostly) and police procedural mystery as the various suspects' stories start to collapse. The final exposure of the murder may come as a surprise if you don't watch closely. A gritty look at Paris of the time. You can ignore the final scene (the Hollywood ending). Louis Jouvet is best as the police inspector who seems to be just passing through, but is really on top of things.


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The extraordinarily adorable Suzy Delair plays a statuesque performer obsessed with succeeding in the theater. Her husband and accompanist, played by Bernard Blier, is a composed but jealous man. When he finds out in a less than preferable way that his flashy wife has planned a rendezvous with a lecherous old businessman with the intention of advancing her career, he loses all control and threatens the businessman with murder. Now, at that point, I must stop describing the film to you because it skates on such thin ice with its twists, revelations, ambiguities and suspense that to imply any of it would endanger it. I am not sure how good or bad that is for this French police procedural emanating from the song- and-dance community, though it is certainly interesting that what we do know throughout is who did not do it. We just don't know who did.
The story depends upon the procedure of following clues, where ideal alibis fail and where cautiously created fabrications and deceptions disintegrate. Interestingly, this is a suspense film in which suspense is generated in spite of the knowledge one would traditionally think too much too soon.
Quay of the Goldsmiths is the least dark of Henri-Georges Clouzot's films. It's nowhere near as sinister as the shocking Les Diaboliques, as tragic as the riveting Wages of Fear or as eery as Le Corbeau. Maybe it is due to the vibrance of the dance halls and theater settings of 1940s France, which all work as the milieu of this crime thriller.
Clouzot both understands and approves of his characters, even the more rotten ones, where he has more of a vindictive streak with his other films. Where he may have had understanding for the scheming women in Les Diabolique or the truck drivers who sink to the level of risking horrible death in order to oust themselves from miserable life in The Wages of Fear, there isn't necessarily support or agreement on the part of the filmmaker, for these are characters who plainly made the direct decisions that determine their fate. All the characters in this more settling film have scenes and moments that endear us to them, even the harsh, cold detective played by Louis Jouvet, who worries about his young adoptive son amid all the trouble and despair that happens in his life at any time with the drop of a hat.
There is humor and unabashed sexiness, the latter mostly on the part of Delair, that neutralize the pressure to a degree. Clouzot was quietly practicing his craft, patient till he made his unrelenting later films, in which he would permit his audiences no pardon from the tension.


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H.G. Cluozot had difficulties working in France after he had made "Le Corbeau" in 1943 which was produced by the German company and later judged by French as a piece of anti-French propaganda. Louis Jouvet, an admirer of Clouzot's work, invited him to direct a thriller "Quai des Orfevres" where he played an ambiguous police inspector investigating a murder that happened in Paris Music Hall. Without each other knowledge, the seductive cabaret singer Jenny Lamoure (Suzy Delair) and her jealous piano-accompanist husband Maurice who is madly in love with her (Bertrand Blier, father of director Bertrand Blier) trying to cover up (without each other's knowledge) what they believe to be their involvement in the murder? Enters tenacious policeman (Louis Jouvet) who is determined to discover the truth. Jouvet practically stole the movie with wonderfully cynic and sentimental in the same time performance. "His character, his eagle-like profile and his unique way of speaking made him unforgettable." "Quai des Orfevres", witty and atmospheric observation of human weaknesses was a great comeback of H.G. Cluozot, the fine director, "French Hitchcock".


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Clouzot followed Le Corbeau, where no one knew who was penning the poison thus everyone was suspected, with another masterpiece, Quai des Orfevres four years later in which we know from the outset (or think we do) whodunnit. Top-billed Louis Jouvet doesn't appear for forty minutes by which time Clouzot has established a rich milieu of Music Hall, music publishers, etc and a fine cast of colourful characters; Angela Lansbury lookalike (Lansbury appeared in Woman of Paris that same year) Suzy Delair scores as the chanteuse whose desire to improve her lot inspires the jealousy of her husband/accompanist Bernard Blier who follows her to the home of an elderly letch only to find he is already dead. From here things go seriously wrong, his car is stolen before he leaves the premises so his pre-arranged alibi is out the window whilst meanwhile, unknown to him, his wife confesses to the murder to the photographer neighbour, a closet lesbian in love with her, who volunteers to return to the crime scene and retrieve Delair's scarf and as long as she's there,thoughtfully wipes her prints of the murder weapon, a champagne bottle. At this point investigator Jouvet gets involved and from then on it's a case of keeping the plates spinning in the air. Clouzot's output was relatively small but virtually all of it was, as Spencer Tracey said in another context, 'cherce', with Le Salaire de peur and Les Diaboliques still to come. In short this is a must for French cinema buffs.


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