It is always an amazing experience when you encounter a film that changes the way you look at cinema, especially one that is almost entirely new to you, not being considered one of the seminal cinematic masterpieces of all time. The last time I had this experience was about five years ago, when I watched Peter Bogdanovich’s brilliant Targets for the first time, not having much prior knowledge about the film. Recently, I had a similar experience, finding a film that moved me in ways I have never been moved before, and one that left me speechless, reeling as its unbridled beauty and passionate story that struck a true chord with me. That film is Claude Berri’s The Two of Us (French: Le vieil homme et l’enfant), a realist comedy that looks at life in Nazi-occupied France during the Second World War, focusing on the interactions between two completely different people, showing that the most powerful bond is that of friendship, and that companionship, coupled with optimism, can help anyone survive even the most tragic of circumstances.
In all honesty, I have never found a film that was so unabashedly hilarious and devastatingly heartbreaking as The Two of Us, and I adored absolutely every moment of it. I am extremely reluctant to say this, because it suggests some form of hyperbolic adoration of this film, but I am going to go ahead and proclaim The Two of Us as a perfect film, something akin to another similarly-perfect film, Vittorio de Sica’s Bicycle Thieves, another neo-realist film that left me quaking in complete admiration for what I had just experienced. Needless to say, The Two of Us is a film that goes beyond being astonishing – it is almost indescribably beautiful, and I simply cannot articulate what I thought and felt about this film nearly well enough. Yet, I also cannot allow this astounding film to leave my mind, and it has left perhaps the most indelible impression out of any film I have seen over the past year. Please forgive any excessive praise I give to this film – I truly adored it, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
The Two of Us is set in 1944, in Paris during the occupation of the Nazis. The film is focused on a Jewish family, who has a particularly mischevious son, Claude (Alain Cohen), who has a tendency to get noticed, whether it be through shoplifting or playing out in public, which his parents fear will draw attention to them, and get them captured by the German soldiers who relish in exposing Jews and sending them to the camps. To protect themselves and especially their son, Claude’s parents send him to the French countryside to stay with the Catholic parents of one of their neighbors. Pépé (Michel Simon) is an eccentric, bombastic old man who enjoys the small things in life, and seems to have never properly become an adult, being a playful, defiant man who far exceeds his age in terms of lustful enjoyment of life. Mémé (Luce Fabiole) has to endure Pépé’s constant rebelliousness, and it is only made more difficult for her when her husband and their new visitor strike up a close friendship and are almost inseparable, with Claude admiring the old man, seeing him less as a stranger and more like his grandfather (hence why he is told to call him Pépé, meaning “grandfather”). Over the course of their time together, the duo engages in adorably childish mischief, and undergoing a mutual education of sorts, with Pépé teaching Claude about the world, and the boy helping soften the biased old man and make him realize that it is never too late to change your perspective. However, as the wind of change starts to blow and begins to bring an end to the war, the two start to realize their time together is very limited, and even if the end of the war brings liberation, the result will be that they will be separated, thus they make the best of their time together, engaging in unhinged, reckless fun, showing their mutual joie de vivre and unrivalled playfulness that drew them together right from the beginning.
It seems to be a pattern – whenever I see a film lead by a particularly talented young performer, I often praise them as being one of the greatest child-actor performances I have ever seen. In all honesty, there are some tremendous performances by young actors throughout the years, and The Two of Us is certainly one of them, if not one of the very best. Alain Cohen is astonishing as one half of the titular duo, and he gives a performance far more mature than his years, finding the complexities inherent to this character, making his role as Claude, the Jewish boy who has to hide his ethnicity to survive, an astoundingly good one. Far too many juvenile performances rely on the adorable nature of the actor and use their age to compensate for any accusations of poor acting, citing it as inexperience, and hoping that the inherent cuteness of the performance will distract from shortcomings in the performance. Yet, the same cannot be said for Cohen, who is unquestionably talented, giving a performance far more nuanced than those in many other films. Cohen’s performance is the quintessential epitome of what a terrific juvenile performance is – adorable but emotional, the ability to incite joy and evoke true emotion, and the remarkable expressiveness present in Cohen’s performance is almost unheard of from an actor of his age. To say that I was impressed is a dreadful understatement – I was entirely dumbfounded by the sophistication of this performance, and I would not be afraid to call this one of the most staggeringly brilliant performances ever given by a young actor. Claude Berri, in making The Two of Us, shows his complete disregard for the adage of “never work with children or animals”, with both being pivotal to the film, and responsible for some of its most memorable moments, such as the canine performer who portrayed Kinou, the farmhouse dog, who is just utterly adorable and as charming as any animal performance can possibly be.
The Two of Us is captivating right from the very first moment, when the film begins with the words “this is a true story, but filtered through the eyes of a child who was acutely sensitive to the tragic events around him in German-occupied France”, and from the outset, it is clear what the intention of this film was to be. Once again, I have sensed another pattern with many of my reviews – I am naturally drawn to stories about young protagonists trying to exist in hostile or difficult times, coming of age when it is sometimes not particularly easy to do so. There is something about these films which take the form of a bildungsroman that interests me, and the idea of showing a child’s metaphysical journey from innocence to experience has always been a subject I am extremely fascinated by. The Two of Us is one of the most essential coming-of-age films because it shows a young man and his experiences during a tumultuous time, and as the opening words mentioned above note, this film is truthful but does take some liberties in showing the period through the eyes of a child. There is something about looking at these kinds of situations from the innocent, unprejudiced perspective of children that evokes so much more emotional resonance that from the sometimes cynical and bleak standpoints of older characters. Allegedly, this film is based on the experiences of the director, and if so, Berri is able to convey the innocence of his own youthfulness and avoids a more hardened, hopeless stance. Many stories written by those that experienced life in a difficult era are either going to be sorrowful or uplifting, and Berri admirably takes the latter route, presenting his experiences with delicate melancholy and sweet nostalgia, but never drifting away from the subject at the core. The Two of Us is a deeply personal work, and I found it almost unrequitedly moving and unbelievably touching, being one of the most brutally honest and unexpectedly profound films about growing up in a harsh environment I have ever seen, and a different perspective on an era that cinema has been intent on representing throughout the years.
Here is another grand, sweeping statement: The Two of Us contains one the finest performances I have ever seen from an actor, one that captivated me right from the very beginning, and stayed with me long afterward. That performance comes on behalf of Michel Simon, one of the great actors who endured from the silent era right until the French New Wave and the Golden Age of Hollywood. To call Simon anything less than extraordinary in this film would be an understatement – Simon grabs the audience with gentle intensity and never relents, giving an astonishing performance, the likes of which I have yet to see. Playing a character who is physically old but emotionally childish (in the best possible way), he brings a certain energy to this film that completely changes it tonally, being responsible for some of the most hilarious moments in the film. There is an unquestionable naturality to his performance, and there was not a single moment that seemed to be inauthentic or disposable – every movement, subtle expression, charming chuckle and sentence uttered was meaningful when it came from Simon, who played on his natural eccentricities and idiosyncratic nature in playing this character, dedicating himself entirely to characterizing the character. This was an absolutely breathtaking performance from one of cinema’s great character actors, a veteran of the screen who brings so much of his own personal experiences to this role. This is one of the most natural and endearing performances I have ever seen, the dedication Simon has to this role is singularly unparalleled. I adored everything about this performance, and of all the aspects of this film that I found wonderful, it is Simon’s performance that has been most unforgettable.
Moreover, there was a certain sensitivity in the approach to this role, and Berri and Simon created a character that is not without flaws – he is a fierce nationalist, and vehemently anti-Semitic. Yet, his character is not built around this, but rather it serves to be a trait of his that may not be particularly endearing, but it is not cause for him to be considered vile or despicable. Throughout the film, the character of Pépé is shown to be just an ignorant and foolish old man, whose political and social views are in stark contrast to his endearing, childlike nature, which is shown in his frequent playful interactions with other characters, who simply grow to see Pépé as a product of his time, someone who is so fiercely patriotic, he remains loyal to everything his society believes. Pépé may have troublesome views, but that does not by any means make him a bad person, and he is shown to have a genuine heart of gold, and he is open-minded enough to slowly start to realize that what he has been spouting as apparently being facts, like the ability to spot a Jewish person, is actually just urban mythology. Much like how The Two of Us looks at Claude becoming “educated” to the world around him in a way, this film also contains the education of Pépé, who becomes more progressive, slowly starting to overcome his own biases. Understandably, this film doesn’t explicitly show the complete change of heart that one would expect to see from Pépé, but there is a certain fondness for this character, which brings up an interesting concept: can a character who has troubling views actually be likable and endearing? As this film shows throughout, that is entirely possible, and it can be accredited to Berri’s affection for the character, and Simon’s astonishing portrayal of this strange but lovable old man.
Something else that struck me as particularly profound in regards to The Two of Us is the fact that despite being set in one of the most tragic periods in recent history and focusing on a character who has to escape the violence and danger, the film is remarkably upbeat and warmhearted. The Two of Us is a consistently playful film, and an endearing, idiosyncratic comedy about the power of friendship and how it can help individuals get through difficulties and hardships. Films set during war are not normally particularly delightful, but Berri managed to take his own experiences during the war and make a film that is not supposed to be a bleak and hopeless portrayal of the period, but rather a joyful celebration of life, and an example of how even in the face of adversity and life-threatening social situations, there is still a glimmer of hope that can be found. It is an interesting approach to take in choosing to make a film like this, that finds happiness in an inherently sorrowful, hopeless situation, but Berri clearly was not attempting to make something conventional, but rather unique and beautiful in its own way. The Two of Us is a film about friendship, and there are moments within this film of towering beauty, specifically in the interactions between the two leads, and while the war serves as the background to this story, friendship is most important and is the main force behind this film, and the foregrounding of the relationship between Claude and Pépé is wonderful, and one of the most realistic representations of playful companionship ever conveyed. So many moments of unrestrained joy pulsate throughout this film, and the beauty of this friendship is unabashedly gorgeous, and rather than trivialize the tragedy that occurred during the Second World War.
The Two of Us is an exceptional film due to its simplicity. There are very few films that evoke such beautiful emotional resonance through the most humble, unassuming execution imaginable. Berri never resorts to common emotional manipulation through trite and cliched cinematic conventions, and rather allows the simplicity of representing reality convey the story for him. The delicate, elementary filmmaking is not a shortcoming of this film and rather allows for modest, unostentatious storytelling, where the basic roots of human relationships can be examined. The film conjures genuine, lifelike situations that always appear to be authentic and deeply personal, and like any semi-autobiographical work, the approach results in something very special. Berri imbues this film with so much heart and soul, and there is a genuine affection felt towards this story, yet it never appears that the director is looking at his story through a rose-tinted lens – the film has emotional heft, and it does not avoid commenting on the gravity of the situation these characters are in – but rather than focus on the more well-known aspects of the war, which can be found elsewhere, Berri opts to tell a unique story, his own, and it creates a moving portrait of a young man coming to terms with the world around him, as well as the loving but troublesome old man who may have literally saved his life, being blissfully unaware that this boy that he feels genuinely fond of is actually a member of the race of people he flippantly dismisses through his outdated biases. The Two of Us is a very special film, and it is only made more moving by the fact that it is based on a true story, which gives it credibility and makes it even more of an emotional resonance.
The Two of Us is nothing short of a cinematic treasure. It is a touching and eloquent portrait of life during wartime, and following the misadventures of two polar opposites – a young and curious Jewish boy, and an old but eccentric man, the film explores the beautiful relationships that can be formed even in the most trying of times. The main theme of this film is friendship, and Claude Berri makes sure to keep this film sweet and endearing but does not ever avoid representing the political, social and economic climate. I found The Two of Us to be one of the most lovable films I have ever seen, having genuine heart and unabashed soul, showing life as it is and celebrating the seemingly-inconsequential minutiae that constitute our existence. The Two of Us is a film that made me laugh, as well as cry. I have rarely had such a visceral, strong reaction to a film, and I stand by the notion that this is an absolutely perfect film. I cannot find a single fault within this film, and everything comes together extremely well. It is an astonishing film, a masterpiece of social realism as well as a definitive representation of the uncertainties of youth, as well as a reminder that one is never too old to learn. It is a delightful film, and one of the most magnificent cinematic achievements I have yet encountered. The fact that this film remains so underseen and unheralded seems nothing short of criminal, and if there is any justice, this film will be introduced to a wider audience, as not only is The Two of Us an extraordinary film: it is an essential one.

Holocaust films play a powerful role in the history of cinema. Filmmakers, many but not all Jewish, seek to tell stories, witness accounts of the mid 21st century genocide. Claude Berri tells his personal experience in the 1967 film, Le vieil homme et l’enfant, or The Old Man and the Child.
Berri sets himself a hard goal. The truth of his parents hiding him in plain sight in rural France is secondary to the troubling task Berri establishes here. The director wants us to understand how the general populace of France would acknowledge, accept and even share a loathing that led to the murder of so many millions.
Pépé is an aging anti-Semite who welcomes, at his adult daughter’s urging, an unknown nine year old boy into his country home to protect him from the bombings in the more populous urban area. Claude is played by Alain Cohen. Berri chose Cohen for his knowledge of the Holocaust. His mother survived hiding in the countryside while her parents, Alain’s grandparents, died in a concentration camp. Though this occurred before he was born, Cohen’s mother carefully informed her son of the tragedy. Cohen internalized this legacy, and it serves the actor in creating a lingering sadness behind the silliness that Claude and Pépé enjoy.
The more sobering moment is late in the film when Pépé prompts Claude to send a classmate a love note. The girl’s irate father and the child’s teacher pin Claude and shave his head as punishment. Without commentary, the camera provides a long close up of the weeping child. We don’t need to be told how close Claude is to looking like this behind a barbed wire fence at a concentration camp.
Swiss actor Michel Simon won the Silver Bear in Berlin for this performance. The actor is playful and endearing while uttering vile remarks that reflect the character’s ignorance. It is a fine line that Simon balances. He does it well.
Claude Berri has enjoyed a long career with many celebrated films. However under his given name Claude Langmann, he filmed hundreds of hours of first hand accounts of Holocaust survivors that were edited into the highly revered 1985 eleven hour documentary Shoah. Clearly the director fulfilled his obligation to insure we never forget.