*½/****
screenplay by Caroline Eliacheff and Louise L. Lambrichs, adaptation by Claude Chabrol
directed by Claude Chabrol
by Walter Chaw Claude Chabrol, the master of the French thriller, is perhaps better described as the master of the French femme-fear film, making an art of women empowering themselves through the destruction of class and gender distinction. With The Flower of Evil (La Fleur du Mal) (no relation to the Baudelaire), Chabrol continues his slide into quaint, comfortable insignificance with his umpteenth treatment of a theme; he's become sort of a French Ozu, if you will, but with murder. This time around, the aging spinster with a secret sociopathology is Tante Line (Suzanne Flon), a toothless Raymond Chandler hothouse fatale wilting in a Parisian home with political aspirant Anne (Nathalie Baye), womanizing sleazebag Gérard (the aptly named Bernard Lecoq), and Anne's daughter Michéle (Mélanie Doutey). A moment where Chabrol frames Michéle and Line through an empty birdcage screams "Hitchcock" in a way as jarring and unbecoming as the sudden bursts of Matthieu Chabrol's drop-needle score, recalling the Nouvelle Vague pioneer's trademark detachment and irony (and fascination with Hitchcock: he co-authored an exhaustive examination of Hitchcock's work with Eric Rohmer in 1957), but also pointing to an undeniable fatigue with working over the same ground he's been ploughing for over four decades now. Still, there's no arguing Chabrol's amazing command of the medium–his edits and choices are rapturous. Just too bad that Chabrol favourite Isabelle Huppert isn't around to lend the piece a little fascination to go along with its expertise.
