Wicked Games: Three Films by Robert Hossein

For those with an interest in classic French films, Robert Hossein may be a familiar face as an actor, though his name may not come to mind so readily when thinking of important auteurs of mid-20th-century cinema. This Blu-ray box set from Radiance goes some way to redress this by showcasing three of his under-appreciated early films, looking and sounding better than ever in these excellent 2K restorations by Gaumont. It seems these films did fairly well at the French box office and caught the attention of fellow filmmakers but were often met with critical scorn and unfairly dismissed as exploitative pulp. More than likely, they were simply too much, too soon. Their content pushed the envelope of what was permissible and, stylistically, prefigured what would soon be known as Nouvelle Vague, or the French New Wave. However, Hossein retained a bold sense of dramatic tension and eluded the lazy pretensions that later blighted the style.

Robert Hossein was the son of an Iranian-Zoroastrian father and a Moldavian-Jewish mother. He was born in Paris and raised in poverty during his formative years, with his parents sending him to a succession of boarding schools when they could afford to, or at least as long as the school was prepared to keep him after they were unable to cover his fees. He regularly ran away from the dorms to sneak into Parisian cinemas and lived a second life in his screen-fuelled imagination. On his audio commentary, Tim Lucas tells us that the young Robert became popular with his fellow boarders for re-enacting the films he saw, particularly comedies, and this was the start of his training as both actor and director.

1955 was the breakthrough year for Hossein. After a handful of mostly uncredited bit parts, his first significant role was in Pierre Foucaud’s The Infiltrator / Série noire (1955), and he also attracted attention and acclaim as Rémi in Jules Dassin’s seminal noir Rififi (1955) where he demonstrated a talent for imbuing morally ambiguous characters with emotional depth.

The same year he made his directorial début with Les Salauds vont en enfer (1955), the first film presented in this beautiful box set as The Wicked Go to Hell, although the direct translation is “Bastards Go to Hell,” which somehow makes it sound like a Euro-Western, which it isn’t. Although the third film here, The Taste of Violence / Le goût de la violence (1961) could be considered the progenitor of that genre. Sandwiched between these very different films is Nude in a White Car (1958) more often listed as Blonde in a White Car though the original French title is Toi… le venin, which translates as “You [are] the Venom,” an unusual melodrama with strong Hitchcockian undercurrents. All three employ decidedly noir-ish visual linguistics and when viewed in succession it becomes apparent that despite aligning with different genres, they share several themes that would become staples of Hossein’s oeuvre: such as obsession, manipulation, and enslavement to diverse, sometimes perverse, desires.

As far as I know, none of this trio ever secured broad international distribution. So, in my brief reviews here, I’ll avoid key plot details that could spoil the joy of discovery for audiences coming to them afresh. They really are long overdue for re-appraisal and it’s wonderful that boutique marques like Radiance are dusting off such influential, and more importantly, entertaining material before they fade away into obscurity.

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The Wicked Go to Hell (1955)

Two prisoners fight off the rumour that one of them is a snitch and escape only to become prisoners of their own desires when they take an artist and his beautiful model hostage.

Having already directed an adaptation of this novel by Frédéric Dard for the stage at the infamous Théâtre du Grand-Guignol in Paris, Hossein found himself cast in a significant supporting role while producer Jules Borkon pressured him to direct. Of course, as an actor he had been directed and knew his way around the production process, but for his début behind the camera he was learning on the job while surrounded by an experienced cast and crew. He reworked his theatrical adaptation into a script with co-writer René Wheeler who also had a hand in the script for Rififi.

This is a film that ends up in a very different place to where we begin, in the claustrophobic confines of a harsh penitentiary. The first act is a prison drama of the kind that James Cagney might have appeared in. I’m thinking of the prison segment in White Heat (1949), which can draw a few close comparisons. The film opens with a grim sequence of a man going to the guillotine, which remained the state-approved method of execution in France until 1977. The condemned man extinguishes his half-smoked cigarette and hands it to a warder. As the man is led away to his doom, the butt changes hands several times and eventually makes its way out of the prison and to a bar where a secret message concealed within is retrieved. It names two men, stating that one of them is an informant and responsible for leaking the information that sealed the dead man’s fate. The two fellow inmates named are Pierre Macquart (Henri Vidal) and Lucien Rudel (Serge Reggiani).

Of course, the suspicion that one may be a police plant, or simply a snitch, may not be accurate, but in the harsh world of prison justice, that won’t matter. So, when the information reaches sadistic ringleader Fred (Robert Hossein), the two realise their days are numbered and attempting a break-out is their best option.

The rising passions and incremental threat of sweaty violence is underlined throughout by the effective, if sometimes overzealous, music of André Hossein who scores all three movies here. After earning respect for several performed ballets and concertos that merged his Persian influences with European styles, it was his soundtracks that brought him to a wider audience with segments of each of the scores written for his son’s films released as EPs. In this instance, a soulful prison ballad, “Black Blues”, with lyrics by Marc Berthomieu and sung by Bachir Touré was to become a standard.

After the first claustrophobic act, the pace and style change. Cinematographer, Michel Kelber transitions spectacularly from the hard interiors to the sunlit expanse of rural France as Macquart and Rudel ditch the bullet-riddled prison van in which they made good their escape and continue on foot. Ironically, freedom is far more challenging than captivity as they now face problems of finding shelter and food. This second act can be aligned with several prison-break films where mismatched convicts must work together to evade recapture. I’m reminded of Stanley Kramer’s The Defiant Ones (1958), starring Sidney Poitier and Tony Curtis, which appears to borrow a great deal from The Wicked Go to Hell.

Nearing exhaustion, Macquart and the injured Rudel stumble upon an isolated beach house where they find an artist (Guy Kerner) at work on a portrait of a beautiful woman. He doesn’t argue when the two desperate men burst in brandishing a pistol and begin devouring the food from his table. This marks another tonal shift for the third act which will play out in the confines of the house and the sparse beach and dunes around it as the dynamics of the men, first three but soon only two, change rapidly when Eva (Marina Vlady) enters the beach house. She’s the young and beautiful subject of the painting and catalyst for the explosive events, altercations, and murderous conflicts that ensue.

Marina Vlady, who would soon marry Robert Hossein, is unashamedly presented for the male gaze here. There are plenty of lingering shots as the camera drinks in her form from head to toe, pin spotlights setting her eyes a-sparkle. We are presented with a view sympathetic to the two escapees who have known only the company of men while imprisoned and, by implication, the artist’s awareness of how they may respond. Although just 18 years of age, Marina Vlady was already a well-known starlet with around 20 screen appearances and she’s given top billing here, with the famous swimsuit image featuring on the posters. She has been called the proto-Bardot and the way she was packaged and promoted for The Wicked Go to Hell templated the “sex kittens” that became a feature of 1960’s Euro-cinema.

The beach house is a strange asymmetric building harking back to the roots of noir in German Expressionist cinema. Perhaps this is an outward expression of the psychological power games that take place within its wonky walls. The use of architecture as psychological metaphor is a staple of the gothic genre and a sun-scorched south of France beach house may seem far removed from dark castle corridors and rain-lashed casements. However, this was not a scouted location, but a full-size set constructed according to Robert Hossein’s concept art. So, one can assume that much thought was put into its symbolism as well as its aesthetic, with his background in theatrical stage design coming to the fore.

Contrary to her outward appearance, Eva is not the compliant nymphet the men might take her for but a clever manipulator of human nature, a skilled exploiter of lust, greed and envy. When two motorcycle policemen come to the house in search of the convicts, she does something quite surprising. She sends them away, so they won’t interfere with her planned revenge upon the two men she now plays one against another in a clever battle of wits.

But which of the two convicts was the informant? The viewer must pay attention to decide for themselves, having judged the men by their actions. One is certainly more brutish and villainous than the other. Would that make him the hardened criminal or the informer? That may depend on whether we believe the turncoat to be a cowardly betrayer or a brave undercover agent. Either way, both men are complicit in the deaths of others during their violent prison break… but only one of them shot a dog. We are actively drawn into the narrative, and our own moral judgement is placed in the spotlight throughout this exhilarating thriller.

FRANCE | 1955 | 93 MINUTES | 1.37:1 | BLACK & WHITE | FRENCH

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Nude in a White Car (1958)

A man is offered a lift by a woman in a white Cadillac who seduces then abandons him at gunpoint. Intrigued, he then searches for the woman.

The second offering here is more subtle and sophisticated, which is a polite way of saying, just not as exciting. Don’t get me wrong, the premise is more than enough of a hook to pull the narrative along, even past some of the more preposterous plot points. But for me, the pay-off was not enough to compensate for the drawn-out and contrived intrigue leading to its predictable reveal and—speaking both figuratively and literally here—a somewhat lame dénouement. It’s saved by its stylistic confidence, André Hossein’s catchy jazz score, and three central performances that electrify the silent spaces between them. Again, Robert Hossein conveys a complex dianoia with minimum dialogue enhanced by expressions, gestures, and spatial relationships between the characters.

Another adaptation from a story by Hossein’s favourite crime novelist, Frédéric Dard, the film opens with Pierre (Robert Hossein) strolling aimlessly along a beach at night. He seems to be contemplating the vast emptiness of the ocean as if it reflects his life in particular or the human condition in general. As he crests the backshore onto a lonely road, a large white Cadillac curb-crawls him until the female driver offers him a lift. It seems that he’s entered a male fantasy world as the blonde driver of the car pulls into a lonely lane and slips her fur coat from her shoulders, revealing her nude body in all its shapely, youthful glory. It’s handled very tastefully but at the time, even showing naked breasts was considered extreme for a mainstream movie and would have been an attention-grabber for sure.

Of course, nothing is explicit and much is left to our imagination, but something intimate certainly transpires between Pierre and this mystery woman who then forces him out of the car at pistol-point. As he stands baffled and dishevelled, the car turns and narrowly avoids running him down at speed.

Pierre noted the receding number plate and tracks the vehicle down to a well-appointed residence. There he’s first greeted by the maid Amélie (Héléna Manson) before being introduced to the elegant Hélène Lecain (Odile Versois) who denies having driven the car, insisting she would never drive at night. Then they are joined by the beautiful Eva (Marina Vlady, again) who is a wheelchair user and maintains that she cannot drive. As the face of the woman in the car was shrouded by shadow, he cannot be sure if it was either of these demure women.

Pierre is intrigued, perhaps enchanted, by the blonde sisters and seems keen to recapture the frisson of the illicit erotic encounter. Hélène and Eva discuss their attraction to Pierre and decide to help him out by giving him a job managing a music shop they have acquired the franchise for. They also offer him lodging in their spacious abode until he can get his life back on track.

It transpires he’s a minor celebrity, recently unemployed after the cancellation of his popular radio show. In the novel, he was walking the shoreline contemplating suicide, which would make it more believable that a man with nothing to lose would be so reckless and ready to go along with this unlikely scenario. He accepts the sisters’ offer and, as he begins to fall for Hélène, soon seems to forget all about the tryst in the car, being bullied at gunpoint, and nearly run down. However, there are strange occurrences in the night. He finds the Cadillac is often muddied by the morning and he discovers sand has been walked into the house. In this way, the narrative unfolds as a murder mystery but lacking the inciting event of a murder as Pierre becomes an amateur sleuth.

In a masterstroke of casting combined with skilful direction, Hossein confounds us by filming the sequence in the car using both actresses. So, even if we are supremely observant, we couldn’t be sure which one it may have been. Also, the striking familial resemblance is achieved by casting actual sisters as the female leads. Similar plays on identity and mistaken identity would later echo through the films of Brian De Palma such as his thrillers, Sisters (1972) and his consciously neo-noir Body Double (1984).

Instead of an expressionistic shack, the setting is a rather modern, up-market townhouse. Once again, though, this is a specifically designed set of impressive scale that allows psychological relationships to be explored and enhanced by architectural geometry. There are different levels and open plan areas that can separate or unite the characters as their dynamic develops. Another echo, perhaps, of Hossein’s experience as a director of stage plays.

In some ways, the interplay between the two women and one man is an inversion of what we saw in The Wicked Go to Hell and shares the same isolated atmosphere during the third act when it seems almost as if the rest of the world has faded away. This time, though, we cannot be as sure about who is manipulating whom and this conundrum constructs some delicious intrigue, marred only by a few implausible events that stretch credulity a little too far. Such shortcomings can be forgiven for the stylistic flair and some consummate cinematography by Robert Juillard, who shot Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Les diaboliques (1955) the same year, a film which has some obvious parallels.

The three leads are excellent, possibly owing something to their off-set familiarity with each other. After all, we are watching the writer-director acting opposite his wife and sister-in-law. I think, just as one can tell the director was falling in love with his muse during the shoot for The Wicked Go to Hell, the mutual support and extra spark between husband and wife is evident here. It’s this on-screen chemistry along with considerable visual pleasure that makes Nude in a White Car so engrossing even when the finale may be underwhelming. That said, part of me is also glad that Hossein tempered the conclusion when compared to the ending of Dard’s novel, which I gather is over-dramatic and super-bleak.

FRANCE • ITALY | 1958 | 92 MINUTES | 1.66:1 | BLACK & WHITE | FRENCH

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The Taste of Violence (1961)

Three revolutionaries are tasked with taking an important woman hostage to a safe house while her freedom is bargained for the release of captives..

By far the most interesting and important movie of the trio, this seminal Euro-Western is a revelation. Not only is it an excellent early example of the genre, coming three years ahead of Sergio Leone’s international breakthrough with A Fistful of Dollars (1964), but it also seems to be the progenitor of the entire Zapata Western sub-genre, five years before Damiano Damiani’s A Bullet for the General (1966), which is often cited as the first Zapata Western. Which goes to show how overlooked and underappreciated Hossein’s films are.

What is a Zapata Western? There had been a few earlier so-called Gaucho-Westerns set in South America, but what defines the Zapata Western is its setting during the Mexican revolutionary decade beginning in 1910. There is also an absence of Native Americans and generally a focus on conflicts between revolutionaries and the federal army of Mexico. Bandits and those who pervert the course of revolution for their own gain—arms dealers, land barons, and straightforward criminals—often feature. Often the protagonists are flawed, ambiguous, conflicted, disillusioned…

The body count in The Taste of Violence is impressive, racking up a trainload of casualties in the first few minutes as the revolutionary army massacres the entire escort transporting priceless cargo. Interestingly, the action is handled so we see the lead up and the aftermath, yet the only killings we witness are the last few men being executed by firing squad. Immediately, there’s a disjoint between what we know happened and what we see, with an avoidance of excessive violence. Rather than dismiss this as due to budgetary constraints, we come to realise that Robert Hossein is making a statement. Apart from cold executions which bring home the reality of humans killing other humans, we are generally shown only dead bodies, though plenty of them. War is not being glorified or justified here. The exceptions to this occur when any of the central characters die. Then we are witnesses to the raw brutality and tragedy of needless death. Don’t worry, though, Hossein never gets polemical here and although there’s a message to be unpicked, it never detracts from the fascination of watching the power dynamics between characters shifting as the human scale story unfolds against an epic backdrop and vast vistas.

The ‘cargo’ turns out to be Maria Laragana (Giovanna Ralli) daughter of the El Presidente of a fictitious central American country. The revolutionary general wants to secure the release of 50 freedom fighters from prison, and three men are tasked with taking their hostage somewhere secret while she’s used as leverage in negotiations with her father. Rebel leader Perez (Robert Hossein) already seems war-weary and treats Maria respectfully long before they begin to develop feelings for each other.

Chamaco (Mario Adorf) is purely mercenary and sees her only as collateral that he believes should simply be ransomed to fund the revolution. He’s also unhappy with being second in command for this mission and will take any opportunity to oust Perez, who is all too aware of this. The third man is young soldier Chico (Hans H. Neubert) who certainly has no taste for violence and is clearly attracted to Maria… who’s all too aware of this. Again, we have a situation where masculine power gradients are influenced by a strong, cleverly manipulative female. It’s a recurring theme in these three movies but most accomplished here.

The cinematography of Jacques Robin is stunning throughout. He’d already worked with Hossein as cameraman for Robert Juillard on Nude in a White Car but only had a handful of credits as cinematographer at the time, so this was his ‘calling card’. Landscapes are captured with such clarity that he manages to make the Yugoslavian filming locations look almost otherworldly.

Realistic for a starless night in a land with zero light pollution, there are some memorable scenes played out in a velvety void of pure black where the figures and horses take on a graphic quality and the spaces between them can only be ascertained by relative scale. We also share the added unease of not knowing who or what the profound dark of absolute night may conceal, lending these key scenes an element of gothic dread and all the psychological metaphor that comes with it.

The cinematography showcases one technically astonishing shot after another, often with seemingly impossible depth of focus where some characters almost fill the frame while others are tiny and distant. This kind of close-up combined with long-shot would become a hallmark of Euro-Westerns, later exploited to great effect by the likes of Duccio Tessari in his Ringo duology (1965) and, of course, Sergio Leone in his Dollar trilogy (1964–66). I was also struck by strong similarities with Terence Young’s Red Sun (1971) which involved the transport of a captive woman across country and also featured a scene set in a cornfield that shares near identical details.

Hossein and Leone would become friends with the latter acknowledging the formative influence of the former by inviting Hossein to appear in the pivotal flashback scene in Once Upon a Time in the West (1968). Hossein would return the favour, inviting Leone to direct the banquet scene in his own Spaghetti Western, Cemetery Without Crosses (1969), considered by many to be his masterpiece. As an intelligent Western The Taste of Violence is also a contender with its precisely crafted dialogue and psychologically complex narrative. When one has unpicked its ultimate message, it could be considered somewhat bleak, but never clichéd and remains entirely entertaining.

FRANCE • ITALY • WEST GERMANY | 1961 | 85 MINUTES | 2.35:1 | BLACK & WHITE | FRENCH

Limited Edition Blu-ray Special Features:

• 2K restorations by Gaumont for each film, presented on three discs. They look pristine and do the stunning cinematography of each film justice with a dynamic range of grey tones, rich velvety blacks and clean whites with minimum loss of fine detail.
• Original uncompressed mono audio for each film. Crisply showcasing the impressive sound design with no noticeable noise and great clarity.
• Audio commentary on each film by critic and author Tim Lucas (2025). For me these commentaries were the main attraction and unique selling proposition for the box set. As usual, Lucas provides meticulously researched background information on the making of each film with impressively comprehensive biographies of the key casts and crew members. Sometimes the detail he manages to cram in while still maintaining a relaxed style seems to be more than anyone needs to know, yet it never becomes less than fascinating. Across the three commentaries, he provides a contextualised overview of Robert Hossein’s career from his early plays staged for the Grand Guignol Theatre and his evolution into the important auteur we see evidenced in these films. Some of the information he shares comes from French-language sources contemporaneous with the theatrical releases which he has specially translated for us. He covers technical and creative aspects, stylistic choices, and links with other movies, writers and directors. He also compares the source material with what we see on screen and with Hossein’s various adaptations for stage, where relevant. The various connections he tracks through cinema history are often surprising and always an education. For instance, the anecdotes he recounts about Robert Hossein and Sergio Leone meeting on a train and becoming involved with each other’s projects as friends lend valuable insight and confirm Hossein to have been a great influence for Leone and his famous formative Euro-Westerns. There’s even a compelling suggestion that the sublime ‘Ecstasy of Gold’ cemetery sequence from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly (1966) was inspired by a sequence from The Taste of Violence. Tim Lucas is always very clear on what is solid research and what comes from his personal experience and responses, never pretending to know anything he cannot corroborate. However, he’s not afraid to offer well-reasoned interpretations and informed conjecture.
• NEW Picking Strawberries. A Making Of featurette with historian Lucas Balbo, featuring archive interviews with Hossein and Jean Rollin (15 mins, 2025). Plenty of background and production information. Hossein speaks mainly about his father’s music and how it became an integral part of his filmmaking. Jean Rollin comes across as a well-informed fanboy in his appreciation of Hossein, placing his movies in a historical and personal context. Indeed, some of the sequences of Marina Vlady walking among the dunes do bring to mind the way Rollin has filmed women in similar liminal coastal domains that conjure a sense of isolation and dread.
• NEW Behind Marked Eyes: The Cinematic Stare of Robert Hossein. A featurette by Howard S. Berger about Hossein and his work (27 mins, 2025). In which he talks about the aesthetic appeal of the man himself as an actor who worked with most of the important French directors. Berger discusses the films of Hossein as an exploration of generalities that may apply to them all, picking out common themes but also highlighting how varied they are too. He notes the combative use of light and shadow, prowling camera movements and abundant shots from the point of view of different characters. Recurring themes he picks out include obsession, jealousy, and confused sexualities.
• Interview with actor Marina Vlady (9 mins, 2014). Talking mainly about the making of Nude in a White Car and acting with her husband and sister-in-law. She remembers her turbulent, passionate time with Robert with great fondness, allowing a few wistful pauses as memories assert themselves behind her eyes. She believes they lived in their five years as husband and wife as much as most couples do in a lifetime. She then shares her memories of how she approached her role in Nude in a White Car and describes the result as an oppressive thriller.
• NEW ‘The Evolution of the Femme Fatale in Classic French Cinema’. A visual essay by critic Samm Deighan (17 mins, 2025). A fascinating overview of the trope’s emergence in the poetic realism of 1930s French cinema in which she describes the femme fatale as a nightmare version of an idealised housewife—a dangerously sexualised woman who attracts and exploits the attentions of loners and losers. The stereotype recurs through the French New Wave which subverted the template of the mystery thriller while disrupting the studio system in the 1960s. While discussing key themes such as intruders, mistaken identity and doubles, Deighan mines a rich vein of forgotten titles ripe for reappraisal.
• NEW ‘The Taste of Violence appreciation’ by filmmaker and Western authority Alex Cox (7 mins, 2025). A short introduction in the style of his Moviedrome presentations in which he praises the use of scary silence and emotions expressed without dialogue. He also discusses the avoidance of battle scenes which could have sensationalised violence with spectacle as a form of entertainment, which Hossein didn’t want. He preferred the entertainment to come from more intimate aspects of human relationships, trying to read each character and consider the wherefore and whys of their actions.
• NEW Interview with author C. Courtney Joyner on The Taste of Violence and the Zapata Western sub-genre (26 mins, 2025). An excellent historical and contextual overview of what boils down to Westerns set in the early 20th-century against a revolutionary backdrop. He traces a lineage from The Taste of Violence to Sergio Leone’s Duck You Sucker (1971) by way of Damiano Damiani’s A Bullet for the General (1966) and Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch (1969). Along the way, he discusses the often bleak themes and pessimistic outcomes as well as key innovations and commonalities that enhance the basic definition. Insightful, entertaining and informative.
• Trailers.
• Reversible sleeves featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Time Tomorrow.
• Limited Edition booklet featuring new writing by Walter Chaw and newly translated archival writing by Lucas Balbo. Not available at time of review.
• Limited Edition of 3000 copies, presented in a rigid box with full-height Scanavo cases and removable OBI strip leaving packaging free of certificates and markings.

Cast & Crew

director: Robert Hossein.
writers: Robert Hossein & René Wheeler (based on the play by Frédéric Dard) (Hell) • Robert Hossein & Frédéric Dard (based on the novel by Frédéric Dard) (Nude) • Robert Hossein, Louis Martin, Claude Desailly & Walter Ulbrich. (Violence).
starring: Marina Vlady & Robert Hossein • Henri Vidal & Serde Reggiani (Hell) • Odile Versois (Nude) • Giovanna Ralli, Mario Adorf & Hans N. Neubert (Violence).