wire154 Reviews

Le soleil au-dessus des nuages (2001)

a delightful, spiritual road trip

[8/10 · 23 April 2024]

Jean Michaux (Daniel Prévost) is the perfect example of a hateful man. As scornful with his workmates than with his neighbour, he has no family, no friends and his love life is like a desert. One day, he's fired and he has to assess the disaster of his existence with nowhere to go. He makes the acquaintance of a sweet, dreamy young man called Antoine (Serge Hazanavicius) who is his polar opposite. Though they seem to have nothing in common, Jean offers him to go with him to la Baule where he has to pay a visit to his uncle.

You probably guessed what will Jean's behaviour become after having read the last lines of the above summary and you will be mostly right. Beside Antoine and not without some clashes, Jean rediscovers the values of life and friendship but what makes le Soleil Au-Dessus des Nuages so endearing is the delicate tenderness, the filmmaker Eric Le Roch wraps around his characters. Straddling two genres: road movie and initiatory tale, the director eschews many narrative pitfalls or more than predictable developments his subject was prone to in the evolution of his protagonists. Jean isn't always wicked and even after so many years spent in the wilderness, he can show love and tenderness albeit with reserve around him, especially when his former love Virginie (Hélène Vincent) magically reappears. Furthermore, Eric Le Roch had the cleverness not to treat in its entirety their burgeoning love affair. As for Antoine, though he shelters his own vulnerability and several weaknesses, one can only admire his strength to support Jean's odious attitude and his patience will bear its fruits for one can be touched by Jean's metamorphosis.

I have underscored the sensibility with whick the director loves his characters and this fineness of style coupled with a discreet humor serves as the main motor of the movie. In the end, it's impossible to resist its underlying message: no matter what your age is, it's never too late to start your life again and eventually to see the sun above the clouds. Add an exotic feel good vibe provided by the various scenery and you get a subtle piece of work from a director who, for his first feature film was in full possession of his means. Shame, his cinematographic career was short-lived.

And at last, Lucid Beausonge's magnificent song during the end credits reinforces the positive, though wistful aura the movie conveys.

Cop Au Vin (1985)

cop incorporated

[8/10 · 26 March 2024]

Claude Chabrol ranks among the French directors who left behind them an impressive crop of movies and his filmography remains wildly uneven. The flicks he directed before Poulet au Vinaigre (1985) and after reflect this irregularity. Le Cheval d'Orgueil (1980) didn't do Pierre Jakez Helias' book justice. Les Fantômes du Chapelier (1982), on the other hand were a solid adaptation of George Simenon's book. But le Sang des Autres (1984) was another failure.

Poulet au Vinaigre is like a return to the director's basics and a strong one to boot. First, the film was shot in a few weeks in the small town of Forges Les Eaux in Normandy at the fall 1984. Secondly, it was shot on a shoestring buget even if it's hardly perceptible on the screen and for the filmmaker it heralded a fruitful partnership with producer Marin Karmitz. Then, Chabrol obviously wished to go back to his favorite theme: to denounce the flaws of the bourgeois world and here, he spectacularly renewed his vision through an innovative narrative process.

Indeed, Poulet au Vinaigre is a small milestone in Chabrol's world in the way it introduces an eccentric character: inspector Lavardin. Although he doesn't appear before the first 45 minutes of the film, his presence is ground-breaking. Using irony as if it flew naturally, he acts as a catalyst in the revelation of corruption that thrives in the middle town. Besides when the prostitute Anna Foscarie (Caroline Cellier) says to the young postman, Louis Cuno (Lucas Delvaux): "get me out of here", it says everything. Besides, Lavardin isn't afraid to use peculiar methods to arrive to his ends and particularly to shatter what lies beneath the hypocrisy of the upper class. The scene, when he beats up the notary Hubert Lavoisier (Michel Bouquet) worths its weight in gold. On the other hand, he even epitomizes a sort of father figure for Louis albeit with once again controversial methods and it's significant that he's the only one to come into Louis' house. At last he has a flair for making some secondary characters much more ambiguous and not so friendly as they seem at first glance like the postwoman Henriette or the bartender Dédé. As Lavardin says to the latter: "one can do everything dude when one is in the police!" Indeed, with him sordid facts are transmuted with a big whiff of weird humor and the whole film looks like a delighting massacre game with a geniune morale.

As one says, you don't change a winning team. So, Chabrol's will to return to what he knows best also expressed through his choice of actors, many of them old hand ones. Stéphane Audran, once Mrs Chabrol works wonders as a possessive, half-mad mother. Caroline Cellier, Jean Poiret's wife brings a touch of lightness in this sultry world whereas Michel Bouquet with his hoarse voice embodies with perfection his role of a corrupt notary. At last, the movie enabled Lucas Belvaux to start a prolific career in French cinema, both as an actor and as a director.

When the film was released, Chabrol was confident in the success the film would garner thanks to Jean Poiret: "when Jean arrived, it was obvious the film was going to perform well". He was intuitive and in the end, the chef Chabrol concocted a delicious cinematographic dish with highly personal ingredients that mesh so well that the result is a gustative pleasure. And if you wish some more, I can easily recommand the sequel Inspecteur Lavardin (1986) as well as the tv mini series, les Dossiers de l'Inspecteur Lavardin broadcast at the tail end of the eighties. At last, congratulations to the English distrbutors who found an equivalent for the translation of the film because "Cop au Vin" is a play on word with a French recipe entiled Coq au Vin.

NB: I live not very far from Forges Les Eaux and I was amused at discovering locations that were used as the back drop of the film like doctor Morasseau's big house and garden that are on the edge of town or the town square.

Inspector Lavardin (1986)

God's Cop

[8/10 · 22 March 2024]

In 1985, Poulet au Vinaigre revived Claude Chabrol's career, introducing a maverick character who became a landmark in the director's copious filmography: inspector Jean Lavardin. Even if he wasn't really at the fore front of the plot (he appeared after about 45 minutes), his unconventional methods and his pure portrayal of a nonconformist cop were more than enough to ensure the critical and commercial success of the film. Thus, a sequel simply entitled Inspector Lavardin (1986) was released a year later and it brought back the same ingredients for another winning formula.

Moving to Dinan in Brittany after his stay in Forges-Les-Eaux in Normandy because of a blunder towards a notary which put a break to his career, Jean Lavardin arrives and stays in the bourgeois house belonging to his first love, Hélène (Bernadette Lafont) because her husband, Raoul Mons, a Christian writer was found dead on the beach. Who's the culprit? Where will Lavardin's investigation lead him?

In this sequel to Poulet au Vinaigre, Lavardin is the prime protagonist and for Chabrol, he's a delicious pretext to poke his noise in a vipers' nest and so to shatter what lies beneath the respectability of provincial upper middle class. These goals were always at the core of Chabrol's work and here they're supported by one of human's senses: eyesight in a funny though quietly disquieting note. For example, on the first evening when Lavardin has diner with the family, the seat of Raoul Mons is located at the back of the long, still shot, at the end of the table, meaning that he may be dead but his spirit can be felt in a way. On the other hand, Claude Alvarez (Jean Claude Brialy) makes and collects eyes which makes Lavardin say: "they're impressive, I feel like I'm being watched". That said, in one sequence, Lavardin watches through his binoculars, Véronique on the beach at night, joining a man who could very well be the key of the enigma. This sense of surveillance was already present in Poulet au Vinaigre when Lavardin acted, in a similar, peculiar way as a father figure for Louis. Ditto here for Veronique after the scene on the beach. And last but not least, see the two journalists who keep on harassing Lavardin.

Compared to Poulet au Vinaigre, Inspector Lavardin is much more concise, even straight-forward in his development even if Chabrol films his work with an unhurried pace. And not only has he fun by playing with the codes of the whodunit (Lavardin frequently nicknames his assistant, "Watson"!) but also with exposing the lies the characters go through. He is helped by a bevy of memorable secondary roles who are highly convincing in the part of ambiguity.

Furthermore, Lavardin acts like an ironic Candid and given he evolves in a sultry atmosphere throughout the revelation of quirky clues and dark secrets, his light presence peppered with witty cues has a refreshing aura which wraps the whole movie, greatly helped by Jean Poiret's unique acting.

At last Chabrol may have been a Parisian in his heart, he was always strong at recreating the atmosphere of provincial France and in Inspector Lavardin, Brittany is so well rendered that you can almost feel you're physically present in the small town of Dinan.

I'll rapidly skip over the obvious qualities of this flick such as tasty dialogs or revelatory camera angles to write this: it's fashionable to laud the films Chabrol made at the end of the sixties and the debut of the seventies like la Femme Infidèle (1969) or le Boucher (1970). It's true they were the filmmaker's heyday but I can easily recommend other movies Chabrol made afterwards and the two volumes of Lavardin's adventures would be easily included in my suggestions. And if they're an acquired taste for you, the mini-series les Dossiers de l'Inspecteur Lavardin shot for television at the end of the eighties are waiting to be discovered. They're all the more entertaining as they hinge on the elements that secured Lavardin's success: humor, spirituality and efficiency.

Hysteria: The Def Leppard Story (2001 TV Movie)

a modest but worthwhile biopic

[7/10 · 21 March 2024]

Def Leppard is a household name all over the world in rock n'roll and there are so many bands in this musical domain that it may seem strange, at first glance to devote a tv movie about their career, considering the big proportion of more famous groups whose career could be related in a fiction. But when you're familiar with their atypical story, it makes sense that they're the subject of this tv movie. Furthermore, given the number of biopics that thrived in the following years, Hysteria: the Def Leppard Story (2001) is kind of a cinematographic example before time.

Def Leppard's rise towards fame and glory was cluttered with mishaps: original guitarist Pete Willis was fired during the recording of Pyromania (1983) as he drank too much, drummer Rick Allen lost an arm in a car crash on New Years' Eve in 1985 (this drama serves as the opening sequence of the film) but he showed his resilience as being able to play the drums on a special, electronic kit, the creation of their masterpiece Hysteria (1987) took three years to write and record, guitarist Steve Clark struggled very hard with alcohol. But even so, they managed to pull through and the triumph over these hardships command admiration and respect about this noteworthy hard rock band. Hysteria: the Def Leppard Story has the look of an economical tv movie and if it can't reach artistic excellence, it shelters enough qualities to spend a rewarding moment. The heading at the very beginning warns us about the fictional liberties taken by the authors but many key episodes that marked out the band's career were truly kept here. See for instance, one of the first scenes when Joe Elliott draws posters and pictures for his band before it exists or the friendly, supportive relationship between producer Robert John"Mutt" Lange and the group. These internal events efficiently mix with more conventional anonymous steps such as rehearsals, recordings and tours. On a more personal note, I would have liked to see sequences showing the beginning of recording Hysteria with the initial producer Jim Steinman, Meat Loaf's right-hand man. Indeed when you know that things didn't work well with him, it would have given the return of "Mutt" Lange to the fold more weight.

And of course, in spite of the heading, you can't avoid some mistakes. As a reviewer wrote, Pour Some Sugar on Me was written and recorded at the tail end of the Hysteria sessions and not in the middle. But they're minor quibbles and the finished product is also well served thanks to its cast. The actors play their parts with so much conviction that you almost believe internal relationships within Def Leppard really happened this way. I'll give a special mention to Orlando Seale who effortlessly conveys ambition and enthusiasm from Joe Elliott and to Karl Geary. His rendition of Steve Clark and more particularly the ambivalence between his remarkable guitar playing and his addiction to alcohol is impressive.

A few years ago, real singer Joe Elliott dismissed this tv movie, claiming that it was "a pile of big mistakes" to put it mildly. He's certainly one of the best placed people to judge about the quality of this tv movie as he was more than here to tell about the story but throughout this fictional tale, the essential remains: powerful music, palatable narrative, thrifty making. In conclusion, Hysteria does the job it was made for and I would add that the authors were right to focus solely on the band's career in the eighties for not only were Def Ledppard one of the bands who managed to seize the zeitgeist of their era but also because the rest of their journey presents much less interest.

Les dossiers secrets de l'inspecteur Lavardin: Le château du pendu (1989) Season 1, Episode 4

haunted castle...

[8/10 · 14 April 2020]

The beginning of the last chapter in the adventures of Jean Lavardin shows the latter in a situation close to holidays: fishing. Alas for him, a young woman Bernadette asks him to find her sister Christine who mysteriously disappeared in an imposing castle located in Portugal. Whether he likes or not, Lavardin agrees and settles in the edifice where he notices that the inhabitants display a strange behavious to say the least.

After Claude Chabrol, Christian de Chalonge took the reins to put into pictures this ultimate investigation from one of the most originally recognizable cops in French cinema culture and like le Diable en Ville, the result has nothing to envy the two other episodes shot by the author of la Femme Infidèle (1969). Let's be frank even sacrilegious. The two installments made by De Chalonge turn out to be highly superior to l'Escargot Noir and Maux Croisés. Very often with made-for-tv movies, the lack of time and money often prevent directors to fully develop their subjects (Chabrol sometimes complained about this handicap in his career) but here, De Chalonge presents a complete, neat work.

Nevertheless and without a doubt, le Château du Pendu is the wildest episode in the miniseries. The madness and incongruity that wrapped the previous chapters is in full swing here. Under the cover charge of a traditional detective story, Lavardin confronts himself to a gallery of demented weirdoes, haunting an awesome castle filled with stuffed animals and disturbing sounds. Among the maladjusted suspects: a disfigured baroness who keeps on playing the same music air, a former doctor who became a watchmaker, an apparently drugged young man who remains confined in bed, a couple of servants who act as if nothing happened. Precisely, what the hell is happening? How are these protagonists linked to Christine's abduction and the history of this castle?

De Chalonge brings back the ingredients that gave the miniseries its original credibility with gusto once again. Jean Poiret's funnily witty lines and inappropriate behaviour always walk hand in hand. The rest of the cast play the game without taking their roles too seriously. And above all, the scenery have never been so well exploited which enable the camera to anchor them in a surrealistic atmosphere. The tv movie was judiciously shot at the Pena castle in Portugal and its somewhat isolated situation on top of a mountain adds to the quirky feel of the whole. At a pinch the detective intrigue takes a back seat for the benefit of this extremely offbeat ambiance. If it was the filmmaker's intention, it was a shrewd one for it helped le Château du Pendu to forge its own imagery narrative. In fact, the episodes of the miniseries were treated in such a peculiar manner that each of them came out with its own identity .

Who knows where this miniseries might have led Inspector Lavardin. Indeed, a fifth episode was in the pipeline but it never saw the light of day. Let's leave the last words to Chabrol: "we had an excellent scenario but Jean (Poiret) died in March 1992 and it was of course, out of the question to direct it without him".

Les dossiers secrets de l'inspecteur Lavardin: Le diable en ville (1989) Season 1, Episode 2

darkness on the centre of town

[8/10 · 13 April 2020]

In Arcachon, a small town in southern west of France, Jérôme Pessac, an unionist is killed in the factory run by Jacques Pincemaille. Did his death have a link with the strike he planned ? Or is it linked with the manager's complex private life? Only one man can solve this mystery: funnily efficient inspector Jean Lavardin.

Among the four tv movies starring the incorruptible cop, le Diable en Ville is one of the two shot by Christian de Challonge, the two other ones were directed by Claude Chabrol. If the former filmmaker isn't on a par with the director of le Boucher (1970) in the history of French cinema, it would be a mistake to ignore this episode for De Challonge made full use of the strong material he had at his disposal and his work is trimmed at all levels. One of the highlights in this miniseries was the worthy use of scenery and here, the contract is so well fullfilled that you doubly almost feel the autumnal weather and the vibe of Arcachon as if you were in town. And the tv movie marks another point by turning many common places almost into unusual ones.

Equally convincing is the story for it remains firmly anchored in the topical perimeter designed by the series. Through the codes of whodunit, a narrative progression and various twists end to a rigorous result until the very last images of the film. But its solid linearity has also room to break into pieces, provincial bourgeois respectability and to expose in the light of day, shameful facts. Le Diable en Ville isn't an exception to the rule for it unites both social satire and detective entertainment. Only Jean Lavardin could make this marriage irresistible through his unpolitically correct manners and formidable cues. My favorite sequences would be the following ones: he brings Pincemaille's car back in the manager's house and he even interferes for the latter's dinner! While his hosts eat a duck with peaches, he relishes himself with his favorite dish: eggs with paprika and he even gives advice to the maid on how to cook them. Be that as it may, his devastating humor and his search for truth make his actions legitimate.

Of all the four episodes, le Diable en Ville has the most brillant cast. Of course, it's always a pleasure to watch Jean Poiret but because the other names embellish their characters with a specific personality, they aren't easily forgotten. Bruno Cremer epitomizes a fragile force to his tormented role as an ambiguous manager. Bulle Ogier as a jaded wife was a judicious choice. Nathalie Nell distills a poisonous charm and Maria de Medeiros may have been rightly spotted by Tarantino when he made his cast for Pulp Fiction (1994).

In the end, this quality made-for-tv film is so well treated that it could probably apply for the finest episode of the series.

Les dossiers secrets de l'inspecteur Lavardin: Maux croisés (1989) Season 1, Episode 3

Killing words...

[8/10 · 12 April 2020]

After a short stay in Chinon, Jean Lavardin goes to Montecatini, a spa town in Italy that hosts a TV quizz called Hieroglyphes but holidays aren't for him once again. As he tells to an old acquaintance, the waiter Dédé whom he met in another life (see the movie Poulet au Vinaigre, 1985), Interpol sent him there to put an end to an arm trafficking run by a millionnaire called Ruggero Anello. In another hand and probably to escape from a sultry couple atmosphere, his wife, a lady writer came to have a rest in the same thermal station as Lavardin. Sadly, she is murdered and the politically incorrect sleuth finds himself with two cases to solve. In these kinds of affair, he deals with odd characters who know everything and have something to hide....

The previous user, Guy Bellinger, a famous French critic complained that this Chabrol TV movie wasn't up to scratch with the filmmaker's greatest achievements such as la Femme Infidèle (1969) or le Boucher (1970). You've got to bear in mind that this kind of film requires less time and money to be produced and shot. It probably explains the supposed shortcomings on the screen. But in truth, they're hardly perceptible because even if it doesn't match his magnum opuses, this Chabrol's work shelters enough various qualities to spend a rewarding moment.

First, the cast. Of course, Jean Poiret shines as usual in a tailor-made role that he knows by heart and if his bad manners may offend the viewer, he always acts in the name of justice. And he is seconded by a bevy of actors who play the game in agreement with the rules of the detective genre. In spite of her apparently angelic face, Amy Werba distills an ambiguous charm which both gives her a femme fatale side and a lightly mocking feel to all the protagonists who deal with her. Then, Riccardo Cucciolla is equally convincing as the quietly disquieting TV candidate, Orczyk and let's not forget Albert Dray whom as I wrote previously, makes his return in Lavardin's world by helding a quite similar role to the one he had in Poulet au Vinaigre. Even Thomas Chabrol, the filmmaker's son makes his part count in his small role as the TV quizzmaster.

As for the story, you don't change a winning formula. Like l'Escargot Noir whose forte was partly rich dialogs, the authors peppered the story with many witty cues to the title itself, a well-chosen pun. Maux Croisés in French means both to find crosswords and ills that cross themselves! Furthermore, the Chabrol touch hasn't been forgotten. He'll adopt a mocker tone towards Dédé who nearly embodies Lavardin's scapegoat and also towards the tv program, Hieroglyphs, a delighting satire of TV quizzes. They're minor details but in this context, you can't help but smile when Thomas Chabrol skins Orczyk's name or Caroline Beaune appears with a flirtatious smile on her face. Without forgetting the winning prize: a highly luxury cruise. In another hand, Chabrol often wraps his works with a touch of madness or incongruity like the pinballs or children toys in Anello's mansion.

All in all, this exotic investigation remains faithfull to the spirit of the series and provides its fair share of surprises and twists to remain throughly estimable and fun.

Les dossiers secrets de l'inspecteur Lavardin: L'escargot noir (1988) Season 1, Episode 1

here comes Lavardin again

[7/10 · 11 April 2020]

In the eighties, Claude Chabrol's career oscillated between fiascoes including "le Cheval d'Orgueil" (1980), "le Cri du Hibou (1987) and successes that encompassed "Masques" (1987) and the duo of investigations led by Inspector Lavardin with Poulet au Vinaigre (1985) and the eponymous title (1986). The popularity garnered by the two films prompted Chabrol to launch a TV series devoted to this singular character. Thus, l'Escargot Noir was the first of four installments released on French TV in September 1988.

In the small, lovely town of Chinon, women are murdered with black snails on their skins and Lavardin has to find the culprit, flanked by his assistant Mario. Although it's a modest TV movie, Chabrol remains faithfull to the thematic features he developped throughout his copious filmography (Mario even nods to a Chabrol movie: the Unfaithful Wife,1969), beginning with the backdrop. Chinon is a beautiful, provincial town so it's a falsely reasurring scenery for the filmmaker to achieve two goals: to tell a classy serial killer tale and for many concerned characters to reveal dark secrets. Through the look of a whodunit with its clues and logical progression, Chabrol has evident delight in lambasting weird, even neurotic bourgeois characters either it's the chemist or the restaurant owner. Besides, concerning the second one a Chabrol flick wouldn't be complete without the traditional culinary sequence which includes a funny, grim detail: Lavardin and Mario eat .......snails!

At last, once again, Jean Poiret works wonders in his well-known role of a deadpan cop, leading his investigations and resolving them through unconventional manners. The cast also includes secondary familiar faces coming from both Chabrol's world and French cinema: Mario David, ex Mrs Chabrol, Stephane Audran, Roger Carel. In the end, a virtually cinematographic pleasure emanates from a simple TV movie which is no small feat considering the shoestring budget Chabrol had at his disposal and it beats hands down several of his half-baked flicks.

Chinon is a beautiful, small town I visited many times. So, it was touching to see familiar places in a story straddling several sub-genres in the detective movie. And Chabrol didn't lie to his reputation by spending some time with Jean Poiret in the restaurants of the town.