PAPILLON: Blu-ray reissue (Allied Artists, 1973) Sony U.K. 'region free'

In the great haggle of life for profit, what is the going price for one’s liberty? Those who have always had it know not the alternative, and therefore often discount the great gift afforded all free-thinking peoples. But those who have suffered its loss, even briefly, implicitly come to the understanding that its merits are quite beyond remuneration. To regain it once again…ah, now there is the quest and grand adventure of a lifetime. And so, we come to an extraordinary example of an even more remarkable life, spent in search of just such a Shangri-La.  Papillon, Franklin J. Schaffner's 1973 film adaptation of Henri Charrière's novel, rechristened under the formidable writer’s auspices of Dalton Trumbo and Lorenzo Semple Jr., with an uncredited assist by William Goldman (a trio of very heavy hitters indeed) remains one of Hollywood’s robustly satisfying escapades. Part actioner/part intellectual drama, Papillon harks back to a curious crossroads in Tinsel Town’s evolution from starlit Mecca to decaying Babylon.  The ruins are evident in Schaffner’s production – crippled by bad weather and constant threats of cancellation. Yet, like its true-life hero, Papillon – the movie – emerges victorious as a celebration of one life, no less ordinary.

Visually resplendent, thanks to Fred J. Koenekamp’s gorgeous cinematography, the story charts the misadventures of our eponymous…um…hero (willed in his stubborn resolve by the marvelous Steve McQueen, subbing in for Charriere himself) and the forger, Louis Dega (a fictionalized amalgam of the many prisoners Charriere befriended, given another exquisite performance by Dustin Hoffman). For those as yet unaware, Papillon is based on a true story, although modern historians have since questioned Charrière's best seller as having liberally ‘borrowed’ scenarios and exploits from his fellow inmates to fatten his own experiences while serving out what was supposed to be a life sentence for murder. Charrière, who by all accounts was a patriot, enlisting in the French Navy before turning to the Paris underworld for a life of petty crimes, subsequently became embroiled, then accused of the Oct. 26, 1931 murder of Roland Le Petit – a Parisian pimp. Although Charrière vehemently denied the charge, he was convicted and given a life sentence plus ten years hard labor.

After his brief imprisonment at the Caen transit of Beaulieu, Charrière was shipped to St-Laurent-du-Maroni, a penal colony in French Guiana. His first two cracks at a getaway were foiled, the first – with fellow prisoners, André Maturette and Joanes Clousiot, dishearteningly short-lived, recaptured by Colombian police. Charrière second flight was a solo effort, fleeing to the La Guajira Peninsula where he lived peaceably among an Indian tribe for several months, until his misguided desire to return to ‘civilization’ outranked his common sense and, once more, proved his undoing. Quickly recaptured, Charrière was sent back to French Guiana and placed in solitary confinement for two grueling years. For the next seven, he plotted and schemed to breakout again, repeatedly tortured by his captors, and finally, relegated to Devil’s Island – an internment camp from which it was perceived no escape was possible. Ah, but the law never met a Henri Charrière before. And thus, Charrière took his final stab at freedom on a makeshift raft built from a bag of coconuts, sailing rough seas for miles until landing, half-starved, in Venezuela where he was again imprisoned – mercifully, under far less hellish conditions, and, for only one year.

Upon his release, Charrière was made a citizen, married a Venezuelan woman, Rita, and became a successful restauranteur in Caracas and Maracaibo. His minor celebrity steadily grew, particularly after the publication of his memoir in 1969.  Papillon sold a whopping 1.5 million copies in France alone, prompting a French minister to suggest that the moral decline of France could be attributed to two things: Papillon and miniskirts! Great publicity, indeed. A year later, Charrière was officially pardoned, his novel translated into English by novelist, Patrick O'Brian, and destined to become an international best seller. Free and popular to boot, Charrière was afforded the plumb part of a jewel thief in The Butterfly Affair (1970). He even found the time to pen a sequel - Banco, that picked up his story after prison. Alas, Schaffner's cinematic triumph of Charrière’s survivalist’s skills came too late in the author’s tapestry of life; he died of throat cancer in Madrid a scant few months before Papillon’s world premiere. For Schaffner, whose standing as the purveyor of big-budgeted spectacles like 1970’s classic war flick, Patton and 1971’s sprawling – if ever so slightly stodgy historical epic, Nicholas and Alexander had been preceded by a curious debut – 1963’s forgettable, The Stripper, and would garner a cult following with 1968’s sci-fi classic, Planet of the Apes, Papillon marks the beginning of the end in Schaffner’s brief ascendance as one of Hollywood’s beloveds. Considering his absence of nearly 5 years thereafter, 1978’s The Boys from Brazil is a brittle, if fascinating epitaph, with Schaffner’s final efforts (Sphinx, 1981, Yes Giorgio, 1982, Lionheart, 1987, and Welcome Home, 1989) doing more to tarnish than bronze his reputation as titan in the industry.

As already stated, and despite its gritty subject matter, Papillon is an utterly gorgeous movie to look at; Koenekamp’s camera, enamored with breathtaking long shots that emphasize an almost David Lean-esque old-time style, if anything – more of a throwback to ancient Hollywood picture-making than the neorealism that had already stylistically permeated the norm by 1973. Be that as it may, Papillon is a visual feast, superbly crafted, complementing its stark tropical geography and climate, with sun-filtered/sweat-soaked aplomb that instantly builds into its own enveloping character. Ostensibly, the plot is not ‘character-driven’ but charted by a conjoining set of unhappy circumstances and incidents. With Steve McQueen as out titular hero, Charrière’s Papillon ventures into territory as a lovable ne’er-do-well; butch, brainy and resourceful, with an almost MacGyver-esque inventiveness, hellbent of mischievous and Houdini-like vanishing acts. As counterpoint, Louis Dega, Dustin Hoffman’s fuss-budgeted and slightly effete antithesis of McQueen’s manly bastard, is the perfect sidekick; playing the near-sighted intellectual, always with some ulterior purpose roiling about his over-active/nervous mind. A dozen or so requisite thumbnails pop in and out of the Trumbo/Sempler screenplay; George Coulouris as the erudite physician, Dr. Chatal, E.J. André as ‘the old con’, Liam Dunn – a sinfully slick trustee, and, Victor Jory, as the Indian Chief – among the cavalcade of cameos. But Papillon is the McQueen/Hoffman show, and both stars illustrated they are more than up to the cause of carrying its weighty 151 minutes to a superior conclusion, effortlessly passing the time along the way. Papillon is so engrossing, it easily plays like a much shorter movie.

Schaffner does not shy away from the horrors of prison life; a gruesome decapitation, cockroaches being eaten by half-starved inmates, perilous storms at sea, and, a brutal confrontation with a hungry crocodile among them. But Schaffner’s picture-making prowess does hit a minor snag right in the middle; Papillon’s Shangri-La-like embrace by Central American Indians, who are remarkably robust, topless and reside in a posh/uber-primitive enclave, affording him their most prized love-slave, Zoraima (Ratna Assan), though not much in the way of impetus to move forward. This really brings the story to a screeching halt. Again, it all looks spectacular – perhaps, a wee too grand in its ole-time picture-making finesse to be truly believable. Despite its graceful sheen, making Papillon proved a minor nightmare, exacerbated by the lack of a completed script before shooting began. Schaffner, no stranger to working with a cast of thousands, certainly had his work cut out for him; shooting in sequence on his globe-trotting adventures from sunny Spain to Guyana and, finally, Jamaica, for the bulk of the picture.

Alas, Jamaica’s primitive terrain, lack of amenities, and uncharacteristically awful weather created costly delays that strained the studio’s coffers and tried everyone’s patience. Each day, Schaffner would rise at 4 a.m. to pour over script revisions with Dalton Trumbo for several hours; the exercise repeated after each long day’s shoot. This regiment proved exhausting to Trumbo, who discovered he had lung cancer and was forced to prematurely retire from the project for treatment; his son, Christopher, brought in to aid in the necessary revisions. On Jamaica’s north shore, production designer Anthony Masters, built an impressive 800 ft. prison while cast and crew indulged in the legal and abundant use of home-grown marijuana, not only smoked, but distilled for mixed drinks. Lack of prudence, and the potency of the drug caused more than a handful of key members to fall ill, again, delaying the schedule to accommodate their recovery. Worse for the company’s PR – Dustin Hoffman’s driver struck and severely injured a pedestrian. Working under a cloud of animosity from the locals thereafter, Schaffner valiantly trudged on, grappling with the grumblings of his French backers and enduring a 3-week stalemate where he continued to push through without getting paid. For his part, after learning of the impasse, McQueen reportedly dug in his heels, telling producers, “Unless everyone gets paid, I don't work.” Owing to the star’s clout, the situation was immediately remedied.

The issue of pay scale created another rift as Hoffman, discovering his check $750,000 lighter than McQueen’s (despite their equal billing) became belligerent and uncooperative. Worse, McQueen’s inherently competitive streak began to rear its ugly head; professionalism giving way to impatience as he attempted to ‘instruct’ Hoffman on how to play his scenes. In one instance, McQueen also had several friends invited by his co-star kicked off the set. In later interviews, Hoffman would toggle back and forth in his respect for McQueen, referring to their conflicts as ‘friendly rivalry’ and McQueen, first, as “wonderful”, “nice”, and “classy” but very “intense”, reassessed some time later as “that son of a bitch.” When production wrapped, Papillon endured its final indignation, as locals stormed the retired set, making off with 600 pairs of shoes, many costumes, some machinery and a lot of lumber. There was little time for Schaffner to grieve over the losses as he and editor, Robert Swink retreated to California to assemble the picture under a breakneck schedule in order to meet the holiday premieres in New York, Paris, and Tokyo.

Our story commences in 1933 with the incarceration of Henri Charrière, a petty safecracker, so nicknamed ‘Papillon’ because of the butterfly tattoo on his chest. Charged with the murder of a pimp, Charrière is sentenced to life in the penal colony in French Guiana. En route, he befriends quirky fellow convict, Louis Dega (Dustin Hoffman), a forger/embezzler, blindly convinced his wife will secure his release. Papillon suggests a trade: his protection for Dega underwriting his daring escape once they reach their destination. The plan is flawed and quickly comes to not. But from their mutual trust, there develops a keen friendship, capable of weathering the horrific circumstances of their jungle labor camp. Papillon protects Dega from a sadistic guard (Mills Watson) before launching into his harrowing flight. He is promptly recaptured and placed in solitary confinement. To show his gratitude, Dega smuggles extra food to Papillon. However, when Warden Barrott (William Smithers) discovers this, he has Papillon’s cell plunged into darkness for six months, cutting his rations by half, believing starvation will force Papillon to reveal his benefactor on the outside. Wasted and delirious, surviving off of live insects to supplement his diet, Papillon nevertheless refuses to give up Dega.

Two years pass. Papillon is sent to an infirmary in St-Laurent-du-Maroni to recover.  Reunited with Dega, Papillon once more plots his escape. Reluctantly, Dega arranges for his old friend to meet Dr. Chatal (George Coulouris). Empathetic to their plight, Chatal promises to secure a boat on the outskirts with the aid of a man named Pascal (Val Avery). Fellow prisoner, Clusiot (Woodrow Parfrey), and André Maturette (Robert Deman), a homosexual orderly, inveigle themselves in this latest venture. Regrettably, all does not go according to plan. Clusiot is beaten senseless by a guard, thereafter subdued by Degas. However, in scaling the prison wall to relative safety, Dega fractures his ankle. Limping badly, this trio nevertheless meet up with Pascal and flee under the cover of night.  The next day, Pascal makes good on his promise to deliver the men to their secret rendezvous where they encounter Masked Breton (John Quade), a local trapper who reveals he has already killed bounty hunters lying in wait for them. Breton guides Papillon, Degas and Andre to a nearby leper colony where they obtain supplies and a seaworthy boat. So far/so good…except that in docking in Columbia, the escapees are accosted by soldiers who open fire and wound Andre. Both Andre and Degas, still ailing from his ankle, are captured.  But Papillon manages to evade recapture. Adopted by the local native tribe, he enjoys their company for some time before awakening one morning to discover they have moved on, leaving him with only a small sack of pearls as a parting gesture.

Using the pearls to bribe a nun (Ellen Moss) Papillon arrives at a convent, begging Mother Superior (Barbara Morrison) to offer him asylum.  Instead, she turns him over to the authorities. Returned to French Guiana, Papillon’s sentence is extended, with another five years of solitary confinement. He emerges a withered shell of his former self, barely able to recognize Andre, who dies shortly thereafter.  Transported on what is presumed will be the final length of his journey, Papillon is taken to remote Devil’s Island. Through a gracious whim of fate, he is reunited with Dega. Long ago, Dega surrendered the dream of living free ever again. Nevertheless, Papillon’s will to survive has not eroded along with the rest of him. He observes a small cove and gauges the waves are strong enough to carry a man out to sea to the nearby mainland. Appealing to Degas, Papillon constructs two crudely hewn floats from bagged-up coconuts. However, as they prepare for their leap from the cliff, Dega gets cold feet and refuses to make the attempt. Unable to remain behind, Papillon embraces Degas for the last time, takes the plunge and is successfully carried out to sea. As the ocean begins to writhe beneath his clumsy raft, a narrator’s voice-over explains how Papillon made it out of captivity at long last – living life on his own terms as a free man.

Papillon is an engrossing masterpiece, chiefly because its adventurous set pieces are book-ended by prolonged character-driven exchanges of dialogue. We draw our empathy for Papillon and Degas, not only from these brilliantly scripted exchanges of camaraderie, but also, the richly textured performances given by Steve McQueen and Dustin Hoffman; the former, at the seasoned pinnacle of his legendary star powers, the latter, well on his way to becoming a legend in his own right.  Schaffner’s pacing is precise; the result, we follow Papillon’s exploits in a sort of fractured ‘real time’ – feeling every moment of his nightmarish solitary confinement – and become exhilarated by his penultimate thrust towards freedom. Having spent all of his run time on the machinations, quagmires and misfires to get to this moment, Schaffner is unable to finish off the picture with anything more than an inference; the ‘happily ever after’ denied both Papillon and the audience. This leaves the finale rather remiss of a complete cathartic release. Yet, it serves Schaffner’s story-telling prowess just enough to appeal, if still marginalized and truncated, nevertheless, a fitting ‘open-ended’ conclusion to the hardship and struggle gone before it. Papillon is free. What does it matter what became of the man after he attained his goal – however, hard-won?

Papillon has been reissued on Blu-ray in the U.K. via Sony, the non-U.S. rights holder of this Allied Artists’ production. In North America, Papillon has long been available via Warner Home Video, which controls the legal end of things on this side of the pond. Bottom line here – whichever disc you choose – essentially – you are getting the same ‘region free’ 1080p transfer – meaning it will play anywhere in the world. Sony’s bit rate is maxed out, and this reveals itself in a marginal boost in overall color saturation and warmer skin tones. Both discs revel in the startling beauty of Fred J. Koenekamp’s gorgeous cinematography; the sticky/lush tropical settings, with their breathtaking vistas of deep blue seas pop as they should.  Fine detail is crisp, without becoming harsh or artificially boosted. Film grain is subtle, but looks indigenous to its source. Age-related artifacts have been eradicated. Sony’s 5.1 DTS audio pales to Warner’s more solidly-based DTS 5.1. The differences are extremely subtle, but there. Jerry Goldsmith’s superb score sounds wonderful. Dialogue and SFX lack depth, with Warner’s disc etching ahead just slightly. While Warner’s digibook packaging afforded us a lush gallery of stills printed on glossy paper, the Sony dumps this swag but still includes the 12-min. Magnificent Rebel featurette devoted to Charriere, plus an original theatrical trailer. Bottom line: Papillon is deserving of an audio commentary. It didn’t get one this time out and unlikely ever will. The transfer is solid and well worth your coin. The movie is golden. Buy today. Treasure forever.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

Warner 4

Sony 4.5

EXTRAS

1