DVD Spotlight

There is a moment near the conclusion of Greek director Costa-Gavras’ 1969 film Z that is truly dejecting. This event follows the government-involved assassination of a political spokesman—a figure roughly based on Greek politician Gregoris Lambrakis— known simply as the Deputy/Doctor (Yves Montand). It also follows an impassioned, futile investigation by the Examining Magistrate (Jean-Louis Trintignant), the deaths of key anti-establishment witnesses, conspiracy laden resolves, more murder, and the censorship of all things expressive. It is in this moment, after all the story’s horrors transpire, that the Deputy’s widow is supposedly consoled. Told that her husband lives on, made evident by a gathering crowd of supporters, she feigns a comforted smile. To his loyalists, his spirit indeed endures, but they knew him as a delegatory agent of the political ideal. His wife lost a husband. She lost a man, a lover, a caretaker. Through this notion, Gavras’ film becomes painful in its irony. The film’s title—which is a variation of the Greek support cry, “He (Lambrakis) lives”—implies a dichotomy of agenda, as even the Deputy’s appreciably depicted followers come to dehumanize his existence. This begs questions of symbolic identity and the essential function of the person, the answers to which Gavras wisely impresses with shades of grey.

After forewarning the audience with a cheeky disclaimer aimed to qualify the film as a reflection of real events and people, Gavras opens with the final minutes of a government lecture—a droll gathering where officials parallel the dangers of bacterial infestation with the dangers of free-thinking ideological infestations. As bacteria threatens plant life, so too do these ideas threaten their corresponding host body: society. The presence of the government officials is authoritatively imposing, yet their self-perpetuating acclaim comes with an air of righteous entitlement. To paraphrase, it’s pretty clear that they’re bad guys—highly decorated ones—whose interests lie in helping other bad guys.

The aforementioned assassination takes place amongst the aftermath of a peace rally and illustrates the very same collusive corruption the Deputy had just spoken against. Whilst attempting to ford a crowd, comprised of advocates and adversaries alike, he beckons to the commandant for help, but is ignored. In this moment of abandonment he is struck down by what’s ostensibly a drunk driver, though the viewer is clued in otherwise—the Deputy becomes a martyr for his cause. It is then that the narrative contorts into a series of recollections by different characters, in which Gavras dutifully unfolds the events of that night. A premium is placed on perspectivism, namely how the depiction of the event in question varies so much from person to person (Kurosawa says you're welcome). Through this, the film expounds on the power of influence, be it political, social, or economical. As the Examining Magistrate begins piecing the fractured story together, the already brisk pacing and punctuated editing ups the ante by injecting its story with an emotional fervor. This tonal shift works to insinuate how the direness of this injustice must sustain the bureaucratic frustration that comes with unmasking such high-level conspirators. In this, the movie demonstrates a remarkable cohesion of function and form; its foundational confidence makes its human issues all the more affecting and, ultimately, heartbreaking.

Extras

Criterion continues with their usual M.O. of supplementing their releases with concise, relevant extra footage. A one-disc set, Z's special features are hardly comprehensive, but they are of insight. Two 2009 interviews highlight the featurettes, one from acclaimed cinematographer Raoul Coutard and the other with Gavras himself. The former speaks generally about the director-photographer relation before delving into the details surrounding his experience with Gavras. He compares the Greek's directorial style and kinetic lens to that of Godard, though contrasts their uses of space and overall approach to day-by-day shooting. Coutard even involves the fortune of having a capable cast, as they can turn a rather meticulous shooting process into something more expressive and wonderful. Naturally, Gavras is not without his charm either, and does well in relating his technical choices to how they're meant to convey the showiness that people like with the resonance people love.