Chabrol's land of honey and social hypocrisy. (2/3)

« La fleur du mal » is a wonderfully entertaining viewer’s guide to « us et coutumes » -way of life- of French bourgeoisie in the Bordeaux region : strongly suggested screening material for any potential visitor to Gironde.

Film is detail perfect, from Tante Line’s gardening straw hat to her battered, decades old « 2-CV », from the beautiful ivy -or is it vine ?- covered family mansion, its gravel path and flower beds, the Pilat -home, for trivia amateurs, to France highest sand dune- beach house down to the ugliness and cheapness of the new chemist’s store and pathology laboratory, the bareness of Anne’s campaign headquarters...

This is a film of rituals, many of them related to food, all the more evocative for reminding French viewers of similar occasions in their own life : the coming home lunch, Sundays formal dress and traditional « gigot » -leg of lamb-, the casual dinner of oysters and sole at a friendly Pilat inn, morning coffee and croissants in the veranda overlooking the sandy beach, Tante Line rushing to make the dishes as soon as she arrives at the beach house.

Chabrol’s characters show a sensual appreciation of all the earthly pleasures to which their material well-being entitles them : for one hundred minutes, the Charpin-Vasseur invite us to share a « bourgeois art de vivre » honed for generations, which they practise without a hint of self-consciousness, like they would carry a second skin.

Despite the dirty family laundry exposed in the heinous -and no doubt libellous- tract, they seem so nice and unaffected, particularly Tante Line and the young ones, that we cannot resent their privileged position and gladly accept both that they deserve it and their invitation.

To add to our viewing pleasure, this idyllic background is matched by a constant streak of irony, if not cynicism. Ann‘s and her campaign organiser’s visit to a social housing unit is an anthology piece : as Matthieu Lartigue wryly comments, « to be late for the visit of a low rent estate is the mortal sin of political campaigning » ; Chabrol portrays his working class characters with the same sharpness and accuracy as his « bourgeois », without a trace of caricature or patronising.

Each scene in the film elicits the same small smile usually displayed by Chabrol in life and Bernard Le Coq on screen : a womaniser -another ritual, perhaps less harmless-, Gérard is above all a master of « social hypocrisy », who welcomes Lartigue with open arms seconds after saying how much he loathes him.

In that instance, the director surely approves of his character : Chabrol is a confessed admirer of all the petty lies that make social -and family- life endurable and daily keep us from going at each other’s throats.

He may feel differently about what lurks far below the lying smiles, the beautiful house, the elegance and perfect taste of its inhabitants, among the deeply buried family secrets and taboos : true evil, waiting patiently to bloom again...

« La fleur du mal » is not a masterpiece, or of the intimate kind, like a small Dutch canvas painting the interior of a bourgeois home : deceptively low key and flawless. Chabrol’s film achieves all that it sets out to do and even exceeds its promises. Amazing by contemporary cinema standards, it is Chabrol’s fiftieth film.

After fifty films, Chabrol is a master craftsman : self confident enough to underplay his hand. His is bourgeois filmmaking of the highest order : understated, like his characters ; nothing obvious or showy, a constant light touch.

Fully committed to his story, he nevertheless takes a step backward so that his sharp eye and critical mind can observe it and his characters at a slight distance and leaves enough space in the frame to allow -and suggest- us to act likewise.

A great director is also a great coach ; in fifty films, Chabrol has learnt to surround himself with a devoted and talented team. « La fleur du mal » moves forward with quiet fluidity : director, crew, actors share a common vision.

The picture is wonderfully cast : no character or actor stands out ; as its poster suggests, it is a film of equals. Same is true among technical departments : cinematography, sound, sets, music... All the facets of filmmaking are harmoniously balanced.

Chabrol is a fair master, but this is a family film, on and off screen. His two sons deserve special mention. Matthieu Chabrol’s musical score is as insinuating as his father’s camera work ; never redundant, it evokes Bernard Herrmann’s compositions for Hitchcock films. As to Thomas Chabrol’s Lartigue, he is close to cynical perfection.

After fifty movies, Chabrol’s lust for filmmaking is impressive : « La fleur du mal » is anything but a run-of-the-mill work.

It is also lust, displayed by tipsy Gérard for his stepdaughter Michèle, which causes history to stutter and « La fleur du mal » to bloom again.

For one moment, it looks like the film may end with an unbecoming bang but, when drama strikes, Chabrol keeps his cool self : rather than stirring up a fire, he smothers the flames with Tante Line’s expert support and soothing voice.

The film ends less than it fades away into unresolved ambiguity : the Charpin-Vasseurs have just entered a new cycle in their troubled history.

In a surrealist and mute closing sequence, social hypocrisy and pure evil converge to celebrate a murder.

This is also an opening which brings the viewers face to face with the film black holes. As the end credits roll, questions rise to mind...