Rififi (1955)
Directed by Jules Dassin
Written by Jules Dassin, René Wheeler, & Auguste Le Breton

If you can judge a parent by the character of the kids, then Rififi clearly did an exemplary job of raising the young'uns, leading by example. The great-grandfather of all heist movies, Rififi still stands above them all, gray in the temples though it may be, slower, and less flashy.

Sexy Beast … Ocean's Eleven … The Limey … Reservoir Dogs … The Grifters … even Mission Impossible (the prodigal son of the family). A fine brood, right? None would be jack shit without Rififi.

And probably a hundred others I haven't seen or don't remember. If there's a brilliantly executed break-in, a stupefyingly perfect heist, and unforeseen complications stemming from one tiny misstep, it's a son of Rififi.

Jules Dassin directed this one while in exile abroad from the Hollywood blacklist. His flair for seedy noir had been proven in many good movies that no one sees anymore (they're not ones with easy, nostalgic romance to them a la The Maltese Falcon or some shit), and he brings a surprisingly hard-hitting edge to Rififi that remains rather shocking fifty years later.

When you think of movies of the 40s and 50s, you don't think sex, violence, prurience, and bloodshed, but Rififi packs in all that and more. It follows Tony le Stéphanois (the haunting, ragged, note-perfect Jean Servais), recently released from prison, as he assembles a crack team to pull off one big score that will set them all up for life.

Yeah, so you've heard this one before, but don't stop me, because while it can't claim to offer anything like special effects, self-conscious wisecracks, or Hollywood star power, it's much, much better for it. The cast is perfect, the plot is seamless, and the photography makes you want to go off to Paris to saunter the grey, narrow streets, casing buildings for your own big heist.

All of which would make it just a good crime-caper flick, except that this one boasts one of the most jaw-dropping sequences ever filmed: about half an hour of entirely wordless, music-free tension as the fellows execute their plan. Something as simple as a cough becomes heart-stopping: will it set off the alarm? This is the heart of the film, and the passage that is most frequently ripped off.

It's played with all the impact and none of the melodrama of a silent movie, with all the action taking place in faces, eyes, reactions. Dessin himself, as safecracker Cesar the Milanese, offers some of the most arresting acting I've ever seen – his final scene communicates guilt, shame, fear, and resignation in one perfect facial expression.

A few moments fall into the "50s movie" stereotype, such as a song sequence that goes on too long and a "child in peril" plot that does not benefit from the child's performance. But Rififi will leave most viewers stunned that filmmaking of this era can still be so fucking great. Suddenly, all the Hitchcock movies I like seem a lot more shallow.

Review by Dr. Penny