The Two of Us (1967)

 Claude Berri's "The Two of Us"

Titled "Le vieil homme and et l'enfant" when it was originally released in France, "The Two of Us" was Claude Berri's directorial debut. Despite being released in 1967, the film feels like a throwback to classic French cinema - the era of "tradition of quality." It also happens to be one of Michel Simon's greatest roles, especially in the twilight of his career.

The film centers on Claude, an 8-year-old Jewish boy living in France during the Nazi occupation. To reduce the chance of being sent to Auschwitz or a similar fate, his parents change his name and send him to live on a farm with the elderly parents of their Catholic friends. The only issue is that this elderly couple is antisemitic and have no idea the young boy is Jewish. 

I was expecting some sort of conclusory realization at the end of the film, not that it was necessary. But, as I was watching the film, I was predicting that the elderly man, Pepe, was going to have a moment where he reconsiders his beliefs and behaviors based on the revelation that this young boy he's grown to love is the very thing he "hates." However, this revelation never came. 

I don't think this lack of disclosure is a knock against the film. For all I know, it could have made the film more sappy and melodramatic, with some sort of shoehorned in 'message.' However, the lack of any conclusions or resolution allowed me to ponder the film even more long after it was over. 

Somehow this lack of finality of conclusion made the film more modern. The way the film is shot and composed seemed like a throwback to the classic age of French cinema, especially due to the time period the film takes place. It sticks out like a sore thumb compared to the New Wave works and 'modern' cinema of the 1960s coming out of France. 

Despite this throwback feeling, there is a moment in the film that feels insanely 'out of body' and 'modern' to me. Pepe has Claude on his lap and he is talking about the passing of time. Berri's camera slowly pushes in on the two and creates a close-up shot. The wind is blowing. In that moment, I felt a slight indication of a spiritual or existential component, like something out of "Hiroshima mon Amour." It's a very quick moment, but it does render the lack of finality into something much more meaningful. These two characters, disparate in age, identity, belief, and life experience, sitting together existentially reckoning with the chaos and troubling nature of life. That, to me, felt more engaging than some shoehorned-in ending.