Movie Review: Farewell, Friend starring Alain Delon and Charles Bronson (1968)

Charles Bronson and Alain Delon. This picture just radiates coolness.

If you put French icon Alain Delon and American tough guy Charles Bronson together, you would expect some serious fireworks on the screen. That’s exactly what we get in the slick 1968 thriller Farewell, Friend. In French, the title is Adieu l’ami, and when the movie was finally released in the US in 1973, it was given the title Honor Among Thieves. But whatever the title, the movie is a fun piece of entertainment.  

In 1968, Alain Delon’s career was well established in France. After spending a disappointing year or so in Hollywood in 1964-65, Delon was now in the middle of an astonishing run of hits in France. Delon was making three movies a year, and they were all successful at the box office. In 1967 he was in The Last Adventure, Le Samourai, and Diabolically Yours. 1968 saw the release of Spirits of the Dead, The Girl on a Motorcycle, and Farewell, Friend. 1969 gave viewers La Piscine, The Sicilian Clan, and Jeff.  

Charles Bronson had a much longer road to establish himself as an actor than Delon did. By 1968, Bronson had established himself as a star character actor in the classic ensemble action movies The Magnificent Seven, The Great Escape, and The Dirty Dozen. He had also played supporting roles in dramas like The Sandpiper, with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, and This Property is Condemned, with Natalie Wood and Robert Redford. But Bronson had yet to headline a Hollywood hit all by himself. Part of this was no doubt due to Bronson’s unusual looks. If you look up “rugged” or “craggy” in the dictionary, you’ll find a picture of Charles Bronson. And while Bronson’s rugged, craggy looks might play great when surrounded by more conventionally handsome actors like Steve McQueen and James Garner, would Bronson really be able to carry a movie all by himself? Hollywood wasn’t quite sure.  

Farewell, Friend begins with Delon and Bronson meeting by accident as they are both finishing up their French military service. Bronson was part of the Foreign Legion, and Delon was a doctor. It feels fitting to use the actor’s names rather than their characters, since they are essentially playing their star personas. Both Delon and Bronson are able to do so much acting while doing so little physically, and with minimal dialogue. They are both great examples of effective movie acting. 

Delon is helping the girlfriend of his friend who was killed in the Army, played by the lovely Olga Georges-Picot. She enlists Delon’s help in trying to break into a company’s safe to put some missing documents back into the safe. But the fool-proof plan hits some snags—the camera that she promised would take photos of the seven-digit combination to the safe only has clear photos of three of the numbers. Delon is prepared to stay in the basement during the Christmas holiday weekend and try all of the possible combinations to the safe. But guess who keeps showing up, just like a bad penny, huh, doc? That’s right, it’s Bronson.  

Bronson and Delon are now locked in the basement with the safe, and they have to avoid the security detail, which comes around every 12 hours. Bronson doesn’t believe Delon’s protestations that he’s only going to put documents into the safe and not take any money out of the safe. The tension ratchets up when they fall asleep and aren’t able to escape from the vault before the security detail comes. Now they are locked in with the safe, with seemingly no chance to escape until several days later, when the workers will return from the Christmas weekend. The increasing heat in the room compels Delon and Bronson to take off their shirts, a sight that no doubt pleased female audience members. It’s been a while since I’ve seen The Great Escape, so I had forgotten how massive Charles Bronson’s arms were—he obviously spent some time at the gym.  

There’s a great shot where we see Bronson and Delon’s feet start walking in unison—the two men become one. Thus continuing the theme of doubles that runs throughout Delon’s filmography: Plein Soleil, La Piscine, Spirits of the Dead, Le Cercle Rouge, Mr. Klein.  

Bronson and Delon were like opposites in appearance—Delon with his delicate, almost feminine prettiness, and Bronson with his rough, craggy features. But they were both intense, magnetic performers: you can’t take your eyes off of them on the screen, no matter what they are doing.  

Farewell, Friend was yet another heist movie for Delon. The heist sequence is probably even longer than the 30-minute-long heist in Le Cercle Rouge. But while the heist in Le Cercle Rouge left me feeling cold and uninvolved, I thought the heist in Farewell, Friend was tense and exciting. The viewer knows that the stakes are high for Delon and Bronson’s characters, and that lends the sequence a tense excitement. The late 1960’s art direction and set decoration is fantastic as well, creating a memorable maze-like basement where Delon and Bronson are stuck.  

Farewell, Friend would alter Charles Bronson’s career by providing him with a huge hit in Europe and proving that he could be a leading man. Later in 1968, Sergio Leone’s classic Once Upon a Time in the West would further elevate Bronson’s standing among European audiences. Bronson would become one of the most popular American actors in Europe, especially in France. Starring almost exclusively in action movies, Bronson forged a long and fruitful career.  

Delon and Bronson appeared together again in Red Sun, a 1971 spaghetti western that also starred Toshiro Mifune, Ursula Andress, and Capucine. That’s on my list of movies to watch.  

The Kino Lorber Blu-Ray of Farewell, Friend features an interview with the director, Jean Vautrin. Vautrin started out directing short films, then moved into full-length features. In the mid-1970's, Vautrin stopped directing, but continued writing screenplays and novels. Vautrin also directed Alain Delon in 1969’s Jeff. Vautrin talks in the interview about what a difficult time he had with his two stars on the set of Farewell, Friend. Vautrin said that Bronson was mainly dismissive of the French—when he felt that the set was too flimsy, he broke off a piece of the vault and slammed it on the floor. Hopefully Bronson’s attitude improved as he made more films in France. Vautrin never got along well with Bronson. Vautrin described Delon as a mercurial presence, who was often withdrawn and introspective, but could sometimes be the personification of charm. That doesn’t really surprise me too much. In a way I would be disappointed if Alain Delon was a perfect angel on every film set he was on. I can’t imagine that an actor would be capable of the great, brooding performances Delon gave without having some of that melancholy in his soul.  

Farewell, Friend is also notable for being the second film to showcase Charles Bronson’s iconic mustache. The first film that Bronson had a mustache in was Villa Rides, filmed just before Farewell, Friend. But Farewell, Friend shows Bronson looking like how I always picture him: long hair, almost Beatle-esque, but always with a few strands askew, and his signature mustache, with a little gap in the middle of it.  

Farewell, Friend is a fascinating little movie, and fans of Alain Delon and Charles Bronson should check it out.  

Movie Review: Spirits of the Dead, starring Jane Fonda, Alain Delon, Brigitte Bardot, and Terence Stamp (1968)

Spirits of the Dead is an intense, surreal, sexy, stylish, fever dream of a film. Based on three short stories by Edgar Allen Poe, it’s an anthology film as three different casts and directors take on the three tales. Released in Europe in 1968 and the USA in 1969, the film is a who’s who of swinging 60’s cinema. The film stars Jane Fonda, Peter Fonda, Alain Delon, Brigitte Bardot, and Terence Stamp. The directors were Roger Vadim, Louis Malle, and Federico Fellini.  

Whether you like the film or not, you’ll be dazzled by the exquisite costumes and sets, and the very pretty people you get to watch. Here are my thoughts about the three stories. 

Metzengerstein, starring Jane Fonda and Peter Fonda, directed by Roger Vadim. This story was filmed just after the terrific campy space movie Barbarella, also starring Jane Fonda and directed by Roger Vadim, her husband at the time. Side note: Vadim was married to Brigitte Bardot and Jane Fonda. In between those marriages, Vadim had a relationship with Catherine Deneuve. I don’t know if I’m more impressed that Roger Vadim was with these three amazing women, or if I’m more annoyed at him for not making the relationships work out.  

This segment was the slowest of the three. But Fonda’s wardrobe is amazing, full of gorgeous and sexy costumes. If you get bored, you can just start counting her costume changes.  

Fonda’s character is a young countess who pursues a life of indulgent pleasure. Fonda’s brother Peter plays her cousin—their families have been feuding for centuries, but she feels an inexorable pull towards him. Having Peter Fonda play this role was a great choice, as it lends the story the requisite oddness/creepy factor.  

The story loses steam halfway through, and the ending isn’t a surprise, although there’s still lovely scenery to enjoy. 

William Wilson, starring Alain Delon and Brigitte Bardot, directed by Louis Malle. It’s Alain Delon and Brigitte Bardot, and they both look super hot. What more do you need to know? 

The story concerns a man named William Wilson who encounters another man who is also named William Wilson. This other Wilson haunts him throughout his life, as their lives run on parallel tracks. This continues the theme of doubles or doppelgangers in Delon’s movies, which is a major theme in Purple Noon, La Piscine, and Mr. Klein. (Side note: Maurice Ronet, who played characters who mirrored or doubled Delon’s characters in Purple Noon and La Piscine, provided the French narration for the Fonda/Vadim segment.)  

The kinky sadomasochism that was an undertone in the first story is brought to the forefront in this story. Delon’s character is extremely sadistic—he would have been a formidable match for Fonda’s countess. It’s always effective when directors used Delon’s good looks to play a character who is morally corruptible. (See also: Purple Noon, Le Samourai.)  

The highlight of this segment is seeing two icons of French cinema, Alain Delon and Brigitte Bardot, on screen at the same time. Delon and Bardot never made a full movie together, which is a shame, but they also appeared together in 1961’s anthology film Famous Love Affairs. Bardot and Delon were good friends, and their chemistry together in Spirits of the Dead is electric. They don’t need words; they just need smoldering glances across the table as their characters play cards. What card game are they playing? I don’t even know. It doesn’t matter.  

Bardot’s part is difficult to play, as there’s really not much for her to work with. What you need in that scene is a female who can match Delon’s charisma and star power. You need that scene to be a battle of equals, between two giants, and Bardot delivers. Even with an unfortunate black wig.  

I don’t know if William Wilson was my favorite segment of the movie, but I really liked the creepy, unsettling aspect of the story, and Delon’s excellent performance.  

Toby Dammit, starring Terence Stamp, directed by Federico Fellini. Terence Stamp was one of the coolest guys ever. He shared a flat with Michael Caine, before they both rose to stardom. He dated Julie Christie and supermodel Jean Shrimpton. His brother Chris Stamp managed The Who. He was living at an ashram in India when the call came to play General Zod in Superman. Terence Stamp simply had style.  

I can’t quite get over the fact that the name of Stamp’s character is Toby Dammit. This is also the name of the character in the Poe story this segment is based on. I want to put a comma in there, to make it a sentence: “Toby, dammit!”  

Toby is an actor, and as the segment begins, he’s flying into Rome to make a spaghetti Western. Part of his payment for the movie is a new Ferrari. Call it surreal, call it expressionistic, but it’s not a surprise that Fellini’s segment would take place in a kind of heightened reality, where even the Rome airport seems to be merely a film set.  

I interpreted Toby Dammit to be a satirical commentary on celebrity, specifically modern film celebrity. Everyone wants something from Toby; everyone acts as though everything he says is vitally important. While in reality, he’s an alcoholic actor who is terrifyingly close to a nervous breakdown. Maybe Fellini is saying “Film actors are normal people, we should treat them like normal people.” 

Fellini shows us the parts of film celebrity that are ancillary to the work itself. We don’t see Toby on the set of his new movie, instead we see Toby on a TV talk show, and at an awards show. These are the obligations of the modern film celebrity. In addition to performing on the film set, Toby also has to perform in front of the camera at these events as well.  

Stamp, nattily attired in jaunty black scarf and purple velvet pants, nails the part, even with his black hair dyed blonde, and he captures the duality of Toby: he always looks as though he’s either about to drive off into the night with a supermodel on each arm, or pass out at his table from too much Johnnie Walker red label.  

At the awards show, the producers beseech Toby to offer a short speech, “Something from Shakespeare. But short.” He offers the “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow” soliloquy from Macbeth. It ends with the famous line about life: “It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Toby stops, never finishing the last two words of the speech, as he talks about his own personal problems before crawling back to his seat.  

Because Toby cannot accept love when it is offered to him by the woman who whispers in his ear at the awards show, he instead chooses the path of self-destruction. When Toby obtains his gorgeous Ferrari after the awards show, we know he’s on the road to oblivion. The Ferrari, by the way, was custom built for the film. Originally a 1963 racing Ferrari 330 chassis, the body was modified, but modeled after the 1964 Ferrari 275 P. Fitting with the vibe of the whole movie, the car is both sexy and alluring, but also sinister and dangerous.  

Spirits of the Dead is a movie that really needs to be seen to be experienced. Love it or hate it, it’s a visual treat of 1960’s European cinema.