
Five French Noirs From Me to U (no gift receipt)
La machine a decoudre (Jean-Pierre Mocky 1986) Inevitable future Vinegar Syndrome release (derogatory). Mocky stars as a demented eye surgeon who trawls around executing people who refuse to donate to his charity hospital. I’m guessing the serie noire this is based on is somewhat less ridiculous than this adaptation, if only because it would have to be. Of special note is how Mocky repeatedly grinds the action to a halt so he can enact some kind of humiliation fetish against Patricia Barzyk (the first half of the movie is functionally pornography). I wouldn’t go as far as to say I’m offended because I recognize that the vulgarity here is the point and clutching pearls is to some degree giving the film more credit than it’s due, but I also don’t think a film as tasteless as this merits any deeper discussion… though surely this must be the most inexplicable Godard recommendation of all time!
Le cave se rebiffe (Gilles Grangier 1961) Jean Gabin at his portliest is a retired counterfeiter who is roped into a new scheme to make fake Dutch notes in this overlit and under realized borefest. All the dumb plot machinations never really answer the question of why Gabin gets half the take when literally the only thing he brings to the table is knowing a fence to funnel the fake bills. Awful, artless, embarrassing. This is based on a novel by the same author as Grisbi, but you’d never know it.
Le Mome (Alain Corneau 1986) Typical hotheaded 80s cop decides he must liberate a prostitute from her pimps, with or without her consent. This is an odd film, scored solely by a handful of endlessly repeating Otis Redding songs and ending with an impressive extended car chase capped by the liberal use of a rocket launcher (!). But surely the oddest part of the film is that the dramatic script was written by comic actor Christian Clavier (who nevertheless does not star in it). I could not help but wonder if this project started as a comedy, as the idea of constantly trying to free a prostitute who doesn’t want to be freed and just keeps running back to her macs could be the base of a great bawdy satire on the masculine instinct to “save” women. As a drama, it’s a bit overwrought, though, and I don’t care for how much slaver Corneau devotes to leering nude shots of his starlet, of which there are many, many, many. But the strangeness of this one kinda won me over by the end. Corneau continues to be an intriguing director worth more study…
Le Mome vert-de-gris (Bernard Borderie 1953) Eddie Constantine stars as Lemmy Caution, an undercover FBI man who loves nothing more than repeating back the dialog just spoken to him. Beyond that skill, I guess he solves crimes or whatever, I don’t know, who cares. This is all exceedingly boring and yet still spawned a whole lot of follow-ups (some mercifully better than this), including the one most of us have already seen
Les yeux cernes (Robert Hossein 1964) Michele Morgan investigates who murdered her estranged industrialist husband in an Austrian logging community. As per my earlier thesis that most Hossein films only contain the aesthetic of the director he’s imitating, here it’s (rather unbelievably, given the plot) Antonioni and as such it all looks great. But the only reason to watch this is Marie-France Pisier’s wonderfully bratty perf as the bored coquette stuck waitressing at the inn. She brings a great energy to all the otherwise languid goings on. As for the mystery, well, you’ll probably figure out whodunnit as early as I did, but the plot hardly matters here. [P]