The Bridesmaid
July 11th 2008 04:01
This adaptation of a Ruth Rendell novel by French cinema's Grandmaster of psychological crime, Claude Chabrol, is yet another solid addition to his spectacular body of work which stretches back decades now and continues with a new film nearly every year despite the fact that he’s nearly 80 years old!
Benoit Magimel is a young businessman, Philippe Tardieu, who is trying to juggle the demands of his new job, the upcoming wedding of his sister, and the rising fears about the waywardness of his youngest sister’s behaviour. His lonely mother, Christine (Aurora Clement), who raised the three children alone, has given away a beloved stone bust named "Flora" to her latest boyfriend, a gesture which disturbs Philippe.
It becomes ever more troublesome to him after he finds himself immediately attracted to the enigmatic Senta (Laura Smet) at his sister’s wedding, who bears more than a passing resemblance in his mind to “Flora”. Before the rainy wedding night is through, Philippe will have given himself over completely to the sexually aggressive Senta who it’s quite clear is stark raving mad, declaring that the two were destined to be together.
They begin a passionate union, although there is a slight hiccup after Senta declares the requisite demands for her perfect lovers pact – writing a poem, planting a tree, sex with a member of the same sex and murdering someone! It doesn’t matter who, because it’s the gesture that counts, which would place them above ordinary people.
It seems like a Strangers on a Train-type bargaining agreement is being sought by the demented Senta, who rarely smiles, lives in the basement of a musty old building and claims to be an actress and to have traveled the world.
There are a few interesting twists from here as Philippe’s obsession begins to rapidly mirror that of his subtle stalker, but in typical Chabrol fashion, there is no overplaying of the psychological trauma that follows – everything is believably handled in a low-key manner, with the finale playing out to a slightly ambiguous fadeaway.
It’s hard to know who to feel sorriest for – the pathological Senta or the poor victim snared in her black widow’s web, clinging to his bust (which he steals back from the garden of his mother’s once suitor), kissing it and sleeping with it in his arms when the corporeal version of his attraction isn't around.
Both lead actors are superb, though Smet, who is a relative newcomer (but with a first-class pedigree, being the daughter of the wonderful Nathalie Baye) could be accused of being slightly one dimensional as befitting her disturbed character. Though she doesn’t resort to bunny boiling or violent tantrums, there aren’t a lot of grey areas for her character to explore.
I look forward to reading Rendell’s novel in the future to see how it compares, but for now, Chabrol’s skillfully crafted film, released in 2004, is worth savouring on its own terms. It’s compelling in a stealthy way, in that it gets under your guard and the time passes very quickly. It’s another noteworthy achievement in the career of a legend of French cinema.
Benoit Magimel is a young businessman, Philippe Tardieu, who is trying to juggle the demands of his new job, the upcoming wedding of his sister, and the rising fears about the waywardness of his youngest sister’s behaviour. His lonely mother, Christine (Aurora Clement), who raised the three children alone, has given away a beloved stone bust named "Flora" to her latest boyfriend, a gesture which disturbs Philippe.
It becomes ever more troublesome to him after he finds himself immediately attracted to the enigmatic Senta (Laura Smet) at his sister’s wedding, who bears more than a passing resemblance in his mind to “Flora”. Before the rainy wedding night is through, Philippe will have given himself over completely to the sexually aggressive Senta who it’s quite clear is stark raving mad, declaring that the two were destined to be together.
They begin a passionate union, although there is a slight hiccup after Senta declares the requisite demands for her perfect lovers pact – writing a poem, planting a tree, sex with a member of the same sex and murdering someone! It doesn’t matter who, because it’s the gesture that counts, which would place them above ordinary people.
It seems like a Strangers on a Train-type bargaining agreement is being sought by the demented Senta, who rarely smiles, lives in the basement of a musty old building and claims to be an actress and to have traveled the world.
There are a few interesting twists from here as Philippe’s obsession begins to rapidly mirror that of his subtle stalker, but in typical Chabrol fashion, there is no overplaying of the psychological trauma that follows – everything is believably handled in a low-key manner, with the finale playing out to a slightly ambiguous fadeaway.
It’s hard to know who to feel sorriest for – the pathological Senta or the poor victim snared in her black widow’s web, clinging to his bust (which he steals back from the garden of his mother’s once suitor), kissing it and sleeping with it in his arms when the corporeal version of his attraction isn't around.
Both lead actors are superb, though Smet, who is a relative newcomer (but with a first-class pedigree, being the daughter of the wonderful Nathalie Baye) could be accused of being slightly one dimensional as befitting her disturbed character. Though she doesn’t resort to bunny boiling or violent tantrums, there aren’t a lot of grey areas for her character to explore.
I look forward to reading Rendell’s novel in the future to see how it compares, but for now, Chabrol’s skillfully crafted film, released in 2004, is worth savouring on its own terms. It’s compelling in a stealthy way, in that it gets under your guard and the time passes very quickly. It’s another noteworthy achievement in the career of a legend of French cinema.
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