Luc Besson’s first feature was the apocalyptic sci-fi The Last Battle (Le Dernier Combat, 1983). Shot in black and white, it had the rags and bric-a-brac look and styling that was enormously popular in the '80s, ultimately to become so prominent in fashion, advertising and pop clips in the ensuring decade. By comparison, Subway, his rather charming second feature, is hard-boiled realism.
Trading in end-of-the-world chic for the mid-80s post-punk style ethic of spiky blond hair, shoulder pads and appalling suits, Subway is really a lot of fun. The style – all boom, ting, cush, synth licks, wide lenses and cartoon characters – is over the top, and so is the plot; this is, no kidding, the story of a thief who hides out in the Paris metro, after a heist goes wrong, falls in love with a beautiful woman who he meets because he robbed her, and eventually forms a band with the denizens, and lowlife’s who call the Paris underground their home!
The romantic teaming of Christopher Lambert as the crook Fred and Isabelle Adjani as Helena, the woman he’s blackmailing, is actually the heart of the film. Apparently Besson grew up on pop and comic books, particularly the work of the Moebius team, whose 'Heavy Metal’ title was an obvious influence in the look and feel of Battle. It’s here in Subway, too, not only the stark, graphic framing but in the narrative, especially in the stop/start episodic nature of the plot and the violent and abrupt shifts in tone from light comedy to earnest melodrama. The Big Blue (1988), his next feature, would be an enormous hit in Europe and help to make Jean Reno – here playing a bit part – a very big star. But the off-hand, ironic sense of humour that makes Subway’s ultimately gloomy romanticism digestible would be missing.
