Touchez pas au grisbi (1954) Review

Honor, and class, among thieves

A film of class, of elegance and thieves: that’s Jacques Becker’s Touchez Pas Au Grisbi (1954) - literally, “Touch Not the Loot”. Jean Gabin is effortlessly composed, impeccably dressed, an old-timer and an old-fashioned gangster. He doesn’t speak much and he doesn’t need to. His codes, his sense of honor, his integrity are better shown by Gabin’s expressions and slow-paced manners. The director Jacques Becker, as Truffaut said, is a master of tempo. 

The film has a story, which means it needs mood and ambience, and a thin plot. We follow these people around in nightclubs, restaurants, Montmartre apartments, while they drink wine and champagne, smoke, play songs on jukeboxes, drive around. It’s a film where dignity is cherished above all, for these men, especially Gabin, feel like it’s the only thing time hasn’t taken from them. Everything moves in such a way as not to disturb class and composure–– and then we get the shootout on a lone road with Tommy guns and four cases of gold: pure noir. 

The whole thing could have been acted out in Chicago in the 30s and it works like wonders, especially when, in the end, a car burns with the beloved ‘grisbi’, the loot. All that old Max (Gabin) gets out of the whole affair is the death of two friends and a spoiled chance at getting rich and retiring. But he takes it like a big boy. A man of honor. He plays his favorite tune on the jukebox, sits by his young showgirl lady and ruminates, resigned, as an old-school crook ought to do.