Leon Morin, Priest
directed by Jean-Pierre Melville, 1961
I came out of "The International" thinking to myself what the film could have been if Jean-Pierre Melville had his paws on the material, and most importantly, its star, Clive Owen. Melville taps into something so magnetic when he casts dynamic men with beautifully roughed up faces to match the elegantly dangerous worlds that prey on and vex his heroes. Owen has the movie star looks, but if you look closer, he's definitely rough around the edges. The same can be said for Jean-Paul Belmondo, the star of Melville's "Leon Morin, Priest", a film finally getting its debut on an American screen after its initial 1961 release. Belmondo is all pout and lean, sexual grace, but look at that nose. With the face of a pretty boy boxer, Belmondo infuses his role as a semi-radical priest with some real grit and appeal. He's the object of the hot, hot affection of a sexually frustrated widow (masterfully played by Emmanuelle Riva) in a small French down during the Occupation. In spite of her ardent Communist leanings, the widow is attracted to the unattainable touch she do desperately craves from her priest, who engages her in serious debate and discussion about religion, life, and the pursuit of something greater than the existence we know. Their conversations are relaxed and without the barrier of superior priest and obeying churchgoer. In one hallucination scene, Belmondo leans into Riva as she undoes the buttons to his robe, only for it to result in Riva truly opening her eyes and realizing its the fleeting and passionate fantasy she'll never have. Belmondo is all unbridled fury and pious cool. This is definitely not Bresson territory when it comes to priest on film territory, but Belmondo's cinematic prowess wouldn't have it any other way.
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