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Here the honor and ethics seem to be Jef Costello's loyalty to himself; a samurai was prepared to die for his employer, and Costello is self-employed. Perhaps he should have taken his text from a real book, "The Code of the Samurai," from 16th century Japan. It begins with words Melville might well have quoted: "One who is a samurai must before all things keep constantly in mind, by day and by night . . . the fact that he has to die. That is his chief business."

The film is masterful in its control of acting and visual style. Against Delon's detachment and cold objectivity, Melville sets the character of the police inspector (Francois Perier), who barks commands over the police radio while masterminding the manhunt. He knows Jef is lying, but can't prove it, and there is a slimy scene where he tries to blackmail Jane into betraying Jef. Meanwhile, Jef tries to find the men who hired him, so he can get revenge.

One of the pleasures of "Le Samourai" is to realize how complicated the plot has grown, in its flat, deadpan way. With little dialogue and spare scenes of pure action (most of it unsensational), the movie devises a situation in which Jef is being sought all over Paris by both the police and the underworld, while he simultaneously puts his own plan into effect, and deals with both women.

The movie teaches us how action is the enemy of suspense--how action releases tension, instead of building it. Better to wait for a whole movie for something to happen (assuming we really care whether it happens) than to sit through a film where things we don't care about are happening constantly.

Melville uses character, not action, to build suspense. Consider a scene where one of the underworld hirelings calls on Costello, to apologize and hire him for another job, and Jef stares at him with utterly blank, empty eyes.

"Nothing to say?" the goon says.

"Not with a gun on me."

"Is that a principle?"

"A habit."

Melville is in love with the processes of things in the movie. The sequence when Jef is tailed by cops on the underground has inspired several other films; police are stationed on every platform, but Costello hops in and out of cars, switches platforms and trains, and toys with them. There is also a lovingly directed sequence where two flatfoots plant a wire in Costello's apartment. And a final scene where Costello returns to the nightclub where the murder took place, and is able to resolve all the plot strands and make his own statement--all while essentially remaining passive.

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