According to Monsieur Manesquier, one half of THE MAN ON THE
TRAIN’s central duo, there are two types of people: planners and adventurers. The difference between these two categories can be summarised easily. A planner will
always keep a spare toothbrush to hand; whereas an adventurer will run the gauntlet
of picking one up as and when it is needed. Manesquier, a retired poetry
teacher played by Jean Rochefort, is a planner; he has three tooth brushes. But
Milan, the rootless, nomadic gangster played by Johnny Hallyday, is an
adventurer. The two men are polar opposites. They are ying and yang. But when
their opposing lifestyles collide in Patrice Leconate’s THE MAN ON THE TRAIN,
the unexpected consequences make for a truly charming filmic experience.
When Milan arrives in a sleepy French village, his intention
is to discreetly prepare for an upcoming bank robbery. But after finding the
town’s only hotel is closed for winter, he is taken in by Manesquier, a talkative
and amiable local who’s awaiting heart surgery at the weekend. Over the
following days, the two men form a tentative friendship and in this short space
of time, the pair gain a glimpse of a life that neither has ever known.
Having spent his entire life in the same town, Manesquier is
defined by stability. He exists in a world
of comfort, stillness and rigid routine. Yet he dreams of adventure, danger,
excitement and spontaneity; this is a man who relishes the thought of a bar
room brawl because ‘it would have been something to remember’. So when Manesquier
discovers that Milan is in town to rob a bank, far from being shocked, he
actually seems rather excited. To Manesquier, Milan is a sexy, rugged,
brooding, John Wayne type; a sort of urban cowboy, complete with tattoos and a
leather jacket, who’s travelled the world and loved a thousand woman. In short,
he is everything Manesquier has ever dreamed of. But the grass isn’t always
greener on the other side and while Milan may appear to be the epitome of
classic cool, his rough and ready lifestyle has clearly taken its toll. Manesquier
is surrounded — and to some extent stifled — by memories, but to a beleaguered
drifter like Milan, such a quiet, comfortable existence has an obvious appeal.
With the two men seduced by the lifestyles of the other, the
subsequent altering of priorities and switching of roles is funny and
delightful in equal measure. But it’s the strong sense of pathos that ultimately
makes THE MAN ON THE TRAIN such an affecting experience. Though these two men
appear very different, they find common ground in their shared — albeit it
differing — dreams of what could have been. Having reached a precipice in their
respects lives, with Manesquier awaiting surgery and Milan preparing for the
robbery, both are looking back and questioning the choices that made them the
people they are. But the film never over plays its hand. Working from an
endearing and pleasingly economical script by Claude Klotz, THE MAN ON THE
TRAIN is a perfectly judged meditation on aging and regret that lingers long in
the memory. Seek it out.
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