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Z, the defiant 1969 political thriller as provocative expose by
Costa-Gavras, begins with a statement that frames the film in no uncertain
terms: "Any similarity to real persons and events is not coincidental. It
is intentional." In place of a disclaimer, he offers a proclamation: Though
he never names the country in which it takes place, the rigorous fidelity
to the historical record is obviously Greece, the homeland of Costa-Gavras,
where as right-wing military junta staged a coup in 1967 and put the
country un repressive authoritarian rule. This is the filmmaker's angry
denunciation of the fascist tactics to harass the liberal opposition,
attack the leaders and ultimately overthrow the democratic government that
had tacitly supported the military's tactics all along.
Costa-Gavras was born Konstantinos Gavras in Greece but emigrated to France
to attend college. His father had been a Resistance fighter during the
German occupation in World War II and immediately jailed after the war by
the right wing government (much of it filled with former Nazi
collaborators) as a suspected communist, as a result Costa-Gavras was
barred from entering university in Greece, effectively blacklisted from any
participation in his country. He stayed in France, eventually becoming a
citizen and apprenticing in the film industry. Z was only his third
feature but his first political project, and though it followed in a
tradition that included Gillo Pontecorvo's The Battle of Algiers and
Francesco Rosi's Salvatore Giuliano (among others), was a risk.
Hollywood backed away from the production, afraid that its scathing
indictment of Greece's totalitarian government would endanger distribution
of other films in Greece, so Jacques Perrin, an actor and friend of
Costa-Gavras, took on the mantle of producer and raised money in France to
finance independently. The stars worked for a fraction of their usual
salaries, brought on board by their support of the film's politics. Since
filming in Greece was impossible, the production moved to Algeria.
Z is based loosely but unmistakably on the real life murder of Greek
liberal politician Grigoris Lambrakis, an Olympic athlete, doctor, peace
activist and Member of Parliament who became the magnetic leader of the
rising progressive movement, and the documentary novel by Vassili
Vassilikos of the same name. Z is no documentary but Costa-Gavras
and his writer partner, Jorge Semprún, conducted their own research of what
was essentially a state-sanctioned assassination and added their findings
to their screenplay. It's agit-prop, to be sure, but it's thrilling,
compelling, run through with vivid supporting characters and narrative
twists and turns that have the dramatic punch of fiction even (perhaps
especially) when based on real events.
Yves Montand plays the unnamed activist politician and peace movement
leader with a public dignity and a private vulnerability (flashbacks show
him still guilt-ridden over cheating on his wife), a dedicated pacifist who
calls out of the police for their flagrant neglect to stop the brutal
attacks on the peaceful demonstration. Jacques Perrin is a politically
apathetic journalist who is present at the murder and chases the story with
an almost mercenary zeal. As he elbows his way through the film, like a
character from a Hollywood newspaper drama digging out a headline and
getting a bigger story than he ever imagined, the film methodically details
the machinations of the government and the military to cover it all up.
Jean-Louis Trintignant is barely a figure in the background through the
first half of the film, a silent bureaucratic functionary seemingly in
lockstep with the government officials marching toward a quick resolution.
But when he's finally put in charge and begins his own investigation, he
pulls at contradiction in the official story like threads in an incomplete
weave and watches it unravel. The real life investigator, Christos
Sartzetakis, was no liberal, but he was dedicated public servant who
doggedly pursued the case no matter where it took him. Trintignant plays
him as a political skeptic suspicious of the left and their accusations of
official corruption. He's almost without personality, simply a determined
force pursuing the evidence to the truth, no matter where it leads.
These central characters exhibit little emotion or dimension in the course
of the movie. It's up to the minor characters to fill in the fear, the
fury, the smug arrogance and righteous indignation of the various parties.
The film leaves it to his wife (Irene Papas, who gets second billing
despite mere minutes of screen time) to remind us of the personal loss
behind the national outrage at his murder. The pace is steady but driving
and Coast-Gavras is masterful in the way he weaves together the strands of
stories and characters, especially the fascist thugs who go scurrying for
cover as the investigation closes in and their alibis fall apart. The
measured investigation and the panicked chaos create a riveting thriller.
Costa-Gavras combines classical storytelling with sixties New Wave
possibilities and political content, and is abetted by cinematographer
Raoul Coutard. Most famous for his work with nouvelle vague icon Jean-Luc
Godard (he shot almost every one of Godard's film from 1959-1967), Coutard
began his career as a photojournalist and had a personal interest in
documentary filmmaking, and he adds a documentarian's eye and immediacy to
the film. The defining music is from Mikis Theodorakis, the famed Greek
composer and liberal Member of Parliament who was placed under house after
the military coup. He defiantly gave Costa-Gavras permission to use his
published music for the film as he saw fit, and he used it beautifully. It
gives the film a sense of defiance even as the coda reminds us of the 1967
coup, essentially riding the brief victory of truth over power into outrage
over the (then) political reality of Greece. The film was an international
hit (except in Greece, where it was inevitably banned) for both its
political content and its commercial dynamism and it won the Jury Prize at
Cannes, Oscars for Best Foreign Film and Best Editing and the New York Film
Critics' award for Best Film and Best Director.
Criterion's crisp new digital master is presented in its original
theatrical aspect ratio of 1.66:1 (there are slight black bars along the
sides of the image on widescreen monitors) and was supervised and approved
by cinematographer Raoul Coutard. The DVD features well-prepared commentary
by film historian Peter Cowie (who discusses details of the real-life
events to show just how meticulous Costa-Gavras and screenwriting partner
Jorge Semprún were in their research and writing) and revealing new video
interviews with Costa-Gavras and Coutard created for this edition. There
are also archival interviews with Costa-Gavras, producer-actor Jacques
Perrin, actors Yves Montand, Irčne Papas, and Jean-Louis Trintignant and
author Vassilis Vassilikos, and an accompanying booklet featuring an essay
by critic Armond White.
For more information about Z, visit The Criterion
Collection. To order Z, go to
TCM Shopping.
by Sean Axmaker
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