Pépé le Moko (1937)

Directed by Julien Duvivier; produced by Raymond Hakim and Robert Hakim

Jewel thief Pépé le Moko (Jean Gabin) has been hiding from the police in the Casbah of Algiers for two years. Hiding is a relative term: the authorities know where he is and have made numerous attempts to capture him; indeed, Inspector Slimane (Lucas Gridoux) is on friendly terms with the criminal. But the Casbah is the home of the poor and the outcast, and its denizens protect Pépé. The crafty Slimane, however, has a plan to bring his quarry into ‘the town’, where he is vulnerable. It all depends on a woman, Gaby (Mireille Balin), a rich man’s mistress, visiting Algeria from France.

An evocative, thoughtful but exciting crime picture, Pépé le Moko benefits from excellent performances, direction and production values. Gabin makes the principal character multi-layered, yet, as much as we learn about Pépé from his actions and words, much is still hidden from the viewer, I think on purpose. There is no hint as to why he became a jewel thief, or why he chose the Casbah in Algiers as his hide-out, when he must have known other, similar refuges. His surname, probably a nom de guerre, refers to a native of Toulon, yet he was evidently raised in Paris. Like other legends, Pépé comes to us already formed.

The other actors are excellent, in particular Gridoux as the police detective. His Slimane shares a characteristic of many successful fictional sleuths: he plays the fool - at least to an extent - in order to lull his criminal opponents and professional rivals into complacence. He is tolerated in the Casbah because he is sympathetic to many of the denizens (for instance, looking the other way when an army deserter retreats there) and because he seems almost silly. Yet, all the while, he is watching, listening; his jester’s pose an open door to information.

The subordinate characters are both interesting and well-played, each with their own traits that are disparate without being artificial: Grand Père (Saturnin Fabre), the jewel expert; Pierrot (Gilbert-Gil), the youngster; Régis (Charpin), the informer; Carlos (Gabriel Gabrio), the strong-man. Ironically, Gaby, played by Balin, who is the catalyst of the plots (both the movie’s and Slimane’s), is barely known. It’s enough that she exists.

The script is good, too, though it deals only with the refugees in the Casbah, rather than the permanent residents. This is in keeping with the story, which is concerned with the outcasts who have come to live in this Alsatia. The dialogue creates the characters, as we learn of Pépé’s longing to return to France, particularly Paris. As his mistress, Inès (Line Noro), points out, the police want to arrest Pépé, but he is already under arrest, in the prison of the Casbah. Another aspect is that we must wonder whether Pépé and Gaby’s infatuation with each other is real or merely the manifestation of their longings: Pépé is a touch of danger and excitement in the woman’s rather ordinary life, while she represents escape and - above all, Paris - to the fugitive.

The direction is subdued but nonetheless significant. Firstly, it makes excellent use of the sets. Casbah originally referred to the citadel of a north African city, similar to kremlin meaning the citadel of a medieval Russian city; it then was attached to the town that grew up around the fortress, the ‘old city’. Pépé le Moko’s Casbah was built in a suburb of Paris, though viewers wouldn’t know it. The shadows and light, the lofty, blank walls, the recessed doors, all evoke claustrophobia; security and imprisonment at the same time. The only sunshine in the Casbah is on the terraced roofs.

When the camera turns to people, it adds to the script and the acting. It allows the viewer to share Slimane’s thoughts as he formulates his plan, and shows Pépé’s almost comical division of interest between the beauty of Gaby’s face and the beauty of her jewelry. On the other hand, it hits the heart obviously and effectively when it gives a few minutes to Tania (Fréhel), a middle aged woman who at one point plays a recording of her singing from her music-hall days, which she tearfully accompanies.

It is little wonder that Pépé le Moko made a star out of its leading man, and influenced other films including, of course, its American re-make, Algiers, and also Casablanca. Pépé le Moko is a classic for all the right reasons.