Le Samouraï

I know now why this one is considered a masterpiece. Apparently, Melville once noted that with his limited means (he was a strictly an independent filmmaker) he could only produce rough drafts. I don't know what could make this film a more finished product. Its fetishized fedora, Delon's expressionless gaze, and the infamous conclusion are well written about. The mis-en-scene is so reduced, and the plot so narrow, that after a while its incredible to believe how good of a movie has been woven around you. As Delon moves systematically through the film, with pure confidence in his abilities, we believe that he can get himself out any situation he finds himself in.
The attention to detail that Melville has in this film is solid proof that he knew what he was doing. Take, for example, Delon's apartment; its spotless. There are some miscellaneous affairs (cigarettes, notes, etc. ) on his nightstand, his coat and hat, some neatly arranged empty water bottles, and a caged bird in the middle of the room. Each one of these details can seem so insignificant to Delon's character and the plot, but a second look is so revealing... Melville's vision and exectution is so concise that there is nothing that doesn't belong. Never is that so clear as in Le Samouraï.
I'm done blogging about film here; I'm just gonna keep doing it somewhere else and keep this my Paris-adventure blog.