L'humanité (1999)

In a small and mostly desolate, laid back French town, where seemingly nothing ever happens, an 11-year old girl is found brutally raped and murdered. The crime is unimaginably ghastly, the kind you would look away from. French filmmaker Bruno Dumont shows us the terrifying image of the brutalized body in considerable detail and for good reason too.

"L'humanité" (1999) is not about the mystery of the crime. It is in fact, about the psychological impact of witnessing something so inhuman, examined from one man's perspective, an awkward and socially inept police superintendent, Pharaon DeWinter (Emmanuel Schotté, in a hypnotic, tour de force act). A brilliant character study, the film explores the way this tragic event is received by Pharaon, a man visibly haunted by the gruesomeness of the crime, and its effect on his relationship with others around him, especially his next door neighbor Domino (Séverine Caneele).

Despite being a part of the investigating team, it is apparent from Pharaon's visage and body language that he possesses neither the attitude nor the energy that is essential to crack a case as dangerous as this. He is a very slow, soft, and mild-mannered fellow, a man-child, a weak nincompoop, with possibly some mental issues, and is clearly not fit for his position. The investigation doesn't seem to be moving as it should either. The attitude of the cops is as lackadaisical as the town they reside in. There are no leads. Help eventually has to be brought in from bigger cities.

While he is not on his rather unproductive pursuit of the killer, all that remains for Pharaon is to idle away, and tag along as a third wheel, with Domino and her vulgar boyfriend Joseph (Philippe Tullier) on their excursions around town. When alone, the brooding, contemplative Pharaon seems to be immersed in some sort of deep personal connect with his surroundings, soaking in nature, meditating, or just reflecting with a palpable sadness. There is certainly much more to Pharaon's personality than what meets the eye; perhaps something beyond human understanding. And yet, Pharaon seems to be the only one with any shred of humanity that stands in sharp contrast against the abundant moral corruption around him.

Dumont's languid style with its moody atmosphere and long silences, allows the viewer to comfortably settle in and fixate his/her gaze on Pharaon as the screenplay follows his every move. The camera captures the vast, bleak emptiness of the sleepy town in all its glory. Every frame, no matter how banal, seems to hint at something that Pharaon reflects upon.

Dumont commands our attention and implores us to empathize with Pharaon, as he goes on with his strange activities, some bordering on the downright weird. For instance, Dumont begs the question: why is Pharaon so intently staring at his Superior's chubby pink neck with all its sweat? Is he likening it to something else? Maybe the pig that he so lovingly caresses?

It is interesting how frequently we see a frame that seems to resemble a vaginal slit, an image from the crime that has certainly scarred Pharaon's mind. He cycles, looks back at a long slender road, flanked by bushes and trees on both sides. He looks down a building and in top view, sees two men fighting in a narrow way between two similar constructions. He rejects Domino's sexual advances. He refuses to smell her panties that her ill-humoured boyfriend Joseph passes to him. Could Pharaon be a closeted homosexual or has the image of a brutalized vagina put a dent on his ability to look straight at a woman? Could it have corrupted his vision to an extent that the sight of a woman's genitals seems ugly and sickens him?

There is a gay kiss that comes out of nowhere. If one is to think that Pharaon was in fact taking pleasure in watching Joseph and not Domino, as they make love in an earlier scene, then it would connect. That would also explain Pharaon's approval of Joseph's churlish behavior in public. As it would the twist ending, hinting at an exchange deal of sorts or as a mark of some kind of a sick triumph. But then again, perhaps it is not that easy an answer as a corruption of sexuality.

At one point of time, amid some flower plantations in a garden, Pharaon appears to levitate. Perhaps the levitation is not literal and it is just a trickery device employed by Dumont to visually manifest Pharaon's ethereal feelings of being swept away in nature's bounty.

And then again, there is a possibility that Pharaon indeed did levitate, in which case one can't help but read Dumont's material on a more metaphysical level. Pharaon is some angelic being above humanity, a kind soul, out to correct the balance between good and evil. Pharaon is probably a godsend, a Christ-like entity, albeit not strictly adhering to the popular notion of Christ. He is one who exists as the epitome of kindness; one who will even take the fall for sin of others in the interest of humanity, a supreme sacrifice.

If one were to indeed adhere to the theory that Pharaon is not normal and far beyond ordinary, beyond humanity, then it could explain his touchy-feely ways with suspects brought in for questioning too. Just what exactly does he do with all that too-close-for-comfort sniffing and touching of the suspects' faces? Startling is also the fact that they don't seem to question it or express shock in return. Could Pharaon have the supernatural ability to recognize if a person is guilty by touching and smelling them? Is that how he is, at one point of time, convinced of a certain suspect's guilt? There is nothing explicit to corroborate this, but a mild suggestion is certainly there. But then again, perhaps it means nothing, and they are just some eccentric mannerisms of a mentally unstable cop.

And that is the essence of Dumont's cinematic craft. His magic lies in suspending the truth in this manner so as to not give easy answers. The restraint exercised is remarkable and it is no mean feat that he manages to open up a number of gates for possible interpretations to this enigmatic film in just the last ten minutes of the film! Everything is handled in a very delicate, calculated fashion; be it the sprinkling of humour in the right doses throughout the somber, melancholic atmosphere or maintaining an air of mystery throughout, ensuring that this film experience remains an intoxicating one, long after the credits roll by.

Score: 9/10

L'Enfer (1994)

"I am so glad you are jealous! It proves you care for me..", sighs a lovelorn Nelly (the vivacious and seductive Emanuelle Beart) to her husband Paul (François Cluzet) in Claude Chabrol's "L'Enfer" (1994). Little does she know at this point that she would soon have to eat her words!

Chabrol's intense psychological drama adapted from Henri-Georges Clouzot's script of his unfinished film, explores with a finesse that is rare, the unwelcome transformation of a loving husband into an insanely possessive monster, with overwhelming jealousy completely consuming his psyche and clouding his ability to reason.

The film begins with a love affair that follows into a healthy marriage rather quickly in a very buoyant manner. Paul seems to be a nice, fun-loving guy, happy with his lake side holiday resort business with a good staff and good friends around to keep the place running and lively. Nelly only adds to the liveliness with her spunky charm and smouldering hot looks, replete with that sensuous cherry-red lip-gloss pout!

Business seems to be as usual, until one of Nelly's harmless visits to the beach with some friends plants a poisonous seed in Paul's mind about her amorous involvement with Martineau (Marc Lavoine), a friend and garage owner. Paul soon begins to fill unwarranted blanks about information innocuously withheld from him, and before we know it, the ball of an unhealthy transformation has been set a-rolling. It is not too long before Paul begins to play detective and follows his wife around, thinking ugly thoughts of his wife's liaisons with not only Martineau, but practically every man around his resort; all based on surmise, of course, and no concrete evidence, gradually letting himself slip into a seemingly irreparable psychosis.

Chabrol finds there is absolutely no time to waste, and very quickly gets the happier days of the couple's lives out of the way. The first seed is sown early enough, and the taut screenplay almost instantly picks up its momentum. With each of Paul's doubts, the viewer begins to question Nelly's movements, especially since we only get glimpses of her initially. There are places she goes, and Paul is blissfully unaware, only learning about her whereabouts from someone else. Could Nelly be lying to him or withholding information from him? Chabrol keeps the ambiguity afloat and never makes it clear as to whether it is a deliberate act or just Nelly's harmless gesture of sparing her husband the tiny details.

But there is also the fact, well presented, that perhaps Paul's busy and demanding life makes him see less of her. As a result they possibly miss out on the smaller communication, a habit that perhaps persists and grows. A healthy communication is the cornerstone of mutual trust in a relationship. In an early scene, Chabrol gives a subtle hint of how this vital aspect could be lacking in case of this couple, thereby making their bond rather fragile. Paul's son takes his baby steps and he calls out to Nelly and announces joyfully that their son has learned to walk. Nelly walks in casually, smiles and replies, "I already know he is walking"! Likewise, Paul misses out on several other details, stuff that is perhaps inadvertently kept from Paul, leading to the misunderstanding.

One thing leads to another, of course and mountains are made out of mole hills. A friendly meet between Nelly and Martineau manifests as a sexual encounter in Paul's head. Could it really have happened? Or is he only letting his imagination run wild? In one particularly powerful scene of a group viewing of a home movie, this aspect is made clear. But that doesn't exonerate all those other times. Chabrol doesn't give us anything to prove that Nelly is not cheating on her husband, but we are never given evidence of the opposite either. The air of doubt is elegantly balanced, in a film that may otherwise have been a very one-dimensional story of an over-jealous, obsessive husband, although the narrative may make it seem that way.

Where Chabrol succeeds is in not making Nelly an epitome of innocence, thereby making sympathies sway either side, even during those extreme outbursts of melancholy. That lip gloss never fades, neither does that fashionably sexy dressing sense. Those mildly flirtatious and playful mannerisms never die, although the latter part is only a facet of her personality. In a twisty manner, it even becomes ambiguous as to whether Nelly is telling the truth or merely telling Paul things that he wants to hear, only to spare herself the avalanche of cross-questioning. At one point she does mention that she married him for the money. But was that statement just a product of a fatigued, exasperated mind that has had enough?

"L'Enfer" is unlike most modern Chabrol thrillers, and it is easy to see why, given its source material. And yet, Chabrol manages to deliver the goods like the pro he is. The thin line between fantasy and reality is mostly kept invisible except in some areas where it is made explicit. The obvious sequences of hallucination are expertly filmed, particularly one giving off an aura of some trippy dream of seduction with the temptress Nelly at its center and all the other men around her going all touchy-feely.

As Paul gradually loses his grip on sanity, the atmosphere of the film sees a transformation as well, as it gets much darker from its initial tone. One can see some Kubrickian symmetry and Hitchcockian claustrophobia applied rather deftly in the scenes in the resort especially during those power cuts when Paul's suspicions about Nelly go out the roof. It all comes off convincingly enough right through to its very fitting ending, thanks to the strong performances of the lead pair, although, Cluzet does tend to go over the top in places. 

Henri-Georges Clouzot had first set out to make "L'Enfer" with the bewitching Romy Schneider. That was back in 1964, but the project never took off, due to various reasons. Years after his death, his widow sold the script to Chabrol, who reworked it and filmed his own version. Whether Chabrol did justice to the original script, filmed a version better or lesser, we will never know, for we have only one finished film to judge. Suffice to say, though, that he has crafted a compelling psycho-drama indeed, and added yet another great film to his oeuvre for us cineastes to savour.

Score: 9/10

Milou En Mai (May Fools) (1990)

The opening frame of a swarm of buzzing bees is almost a prophetic image of how old Milou's (Michel Piccoli) plush, countryside family home would look soon after. His much older mother dies suddenly, leaving him alone with a faithful old maid Adele. A funeral is planned within the next two days. The closest family members turn up one by one, each bringing with them their own sets of surprises or extended family members.

Set during the month of a massive civil unrest in France, May 1968, Louis Malle's "May Fools" (1990) is a brazenly funny, satirical drama revolving around a dysfunctional family brought together after a long time, for a solemn occasion. Only the sanctity of the funeral is soon diluted, as the reunion turns into a daytime picnic followed by a nighttime misadventure, with clashing egos exposing their underlying pretensions, damaged relationships, and growing insecurities.

The script written by Malle and the great Jean-Claude Carrière is razor sharp, with its biting humour, intelligent, well-timed dialog, and an eclectic bunch of interesting characters to boot. It is fascinating how likeable all of these characters are, despite the blatantly presented fact that they are in no way perfect, and in fact, downright eccentric to the extent of being revolting. All of these characters have diverse traits, all off-the-wall in their own way, but intriguing, nevertheless.

A family that appears close-knit on the surface begins to expose cracks within, that widen over the period of these three days. External forces, not limited to the socio-political turmoil, of course, aggravate matters, as the funeral parlour workers go on strike. The stay of the family members is extended, leaving them more time to spend with each other, much to their reluctance.

Notable is how, the historic event serves entirely as a backdrop while the family gathering and the drama that ensues becomes the focal point. Events are sometimes shocking in how bold they are, even the verbal exchange between characters. It is all, however, delivered with a buoyant, comic tone, thereby alleviating the shock value. And therefore, it's not all that eyebrow raising, when the most loyal torchbearer of the family, Milou, the only one who doesn't want to sell the property of the forefathers, exhibits his wildly flirtatious ways, with not only the domestic help (in the presence of his mother's dead body, no less!) but also the wife of his journalist brother. Not explicit, but certainly hinted at, is also his unusual way of looking at his growing granddaughter Françoise, as he gazes at her bare legs, perhaps in a salacious manner or simply in admiration of how fast and big she has grown.

The brother (Michel Duchaussoy) is another looney, who is more interested in the radio announcement of the current affairs than in his dead mother, so much so that he first listens to the radio upon arrival and later sees his dead mother! He is so much in love with the radio, that he is hardly bothered about his brother's open flirting with his wife. Milou's daughter Camille (Miou-Miou) and the niece Claire (Dominique Blanc), are all the more extreme points on the curve; one, a family woman with three children, and a typically neglectful husband, and the other, a lesbian who brings in a much younger lover, only to lose her to one of her cousins.

The cousin appears to be a pseudo-rebel who joins in with the students merely for the thrill, not for the cause. The bourgeois hypocrisies are exposed in the most savage of ways; Camille bawls out loud about how people use her, and Claire first seduces the truck-driver in a fit of jealousy and later rebukes him by reminding him of his socioeconomic stratum!

The rather morbid comedy stems from how these characters gleefully neglect and disrespect the dead body of their mother, even singing and dancing around it in a stone-drunk frenzy! The priest who comes in to administer some last rites just nonchalantly starts talking about the unrest whilst conducting the ritual. The family engages in revelries, and (thankfully interrupted) sexual games, in what looks like a celebration rather than a mourning. Actions and words highly inappropriate for the occasion are openly exchanged, while in a hilarious repeated gag, Françoise asks her grandpa the meaning of the choicest of words that she isn't even supposed to hear.

In the midst of all this, the insensitive progeny squabble about who will take the silver and the furniture, rather than maintain some peace around the house in the final hours leading to the funeral. Their shameful behavior and the pitiable scheme of things is acknowledged in silence by the dead mother who literally shows up by her gravedigger, with a remorseful expression on her face!

A cultural and inherent class divide is showcased with an important twist regarding the maid Adele in how it ruffles a few feathers, and also with the entry of a rather blunt and foul-mouthed truck-driver who is an uninvited, but helpful guest, driving the old lady's grandson safely to the house in the turbulent atmosphere. The truck-driver's rather brash ways are received with a surprising indifference, despite his openly lustful confessions about the women in the house. It's a brilliant juxtaposition of mirroring events on the outside in the city, which is bustling with protests attacking capitalism and the consumerist culture. The workers take down the bourgeoisie with their strikes, while this funeral event serves as a microcosm for the conflict outside with its own share of a class friction.

And it is a mighty entertaining microcosm at that; for at the end of this scathing dramedy, despite all the deplorable behavior that Malle makes us witness, we come out feeling happy and satisfied in the end.


Score: 9/10