Schauplatz des Verbrechens

The title might lead viewers to expect an elegant parlor room whodunit, but this elegant French import is something else entirely: part thriller, part domestic melodrama, and in large part a story of the end of innocence for a troubled young boy on the threshold of adulthood, who stumbles on the hideout of an escaped convict. Under threat of death the boy is sworn to silence, but the real trouble begins after his divorced mother learns the secret and becomes fatally attracted to the fugitive. The story unfolds with rare narrative subtlety, expressed in unspoken thoughts and barely repressed emotions. Too bad the plot is then allowed to collapse in the final act, with all the conflicting elements forced together in a rushed climax, followed by a long, inconclusive fade-out meant to appear ambiguous but looking more like the end result of writer's block. The weak resolution partially mars an otherwise attractive and well-acted drama, handsomely photographed in a glorious corner of French countryside at the end of a long, dry summer.

I've only seen three of Andre Techine's films ("Rendez-Vous," "Scene of the Crime," and "Wild Reeds") but after watching "Wild Reeds" I knew I'd have to watch everything else he'd ever made, for now I was a life-long fan.

"Scene of the Crime" has many of the virtues of "Wild Reeds,"--a film that will inhabit you for weeks after you've seen it--chief among them Techine's intelligence and sensitive handling of character and flair for melodrama. If Thomas Hardy were alive today, he'd probably be Techine's script-writer.

The film's two concerns are repression and freedom. Thomas--a sullen angry 13 year old--and Lili--his dreamy, distractedly neurotic mother-- undergo several collisions and unions with a young escaped convict and his friends: they are left to pick up the pieces and reconfigure their lives. Both mother and son are bound by a repressions whose roots are in family, community and religion. And each conflict with others binds them like a rope, so that Thomas futilely lashes out in anger while Lili attempts to lose (and in doing so) find herself with an act of impulsive negation. We could trace much of the repression toward the less likable characters--other criminals or family members--but doing so is futile. Techine understands what Renoir meant when said "everyone has his reasons," and so this film isn't about the difficulty of living with other people, but the difficulty of living in this universe.

Techine has often been called a "novelistic" director; meaning he takes you deep inside his characters' thoughts and motivations. This doesn't involve voiceover, just Techine's direction and the melodramatic plots that force their characters into confrontations ordained by the strength of their passions. Melodrama asks the most of its characters; requires them to feel and undergo all they can. It's numerous coincidences, and run-ins can seem like an amplified version of life's randomness and havoc. Techine's approach involves an analytical acceptance of melodrama's approach to narrative; a willing and measured use of its conventions, resulting in narratives that often seem more vivid than reality and paradoxically more truthful and satisfying. The emotions unearthed are more intense than those brought out by reality, but possess the inner truth of reality.

His technique is not flashy, attention-getting or hyper-formalistic: which means it works discreetly and extremely well. There is an ever-present analytical attention to the natural (and un-) surroundings that surround his characters, along with an intense intimacy toward them. He follows very few rules, and mixes quick cutting with measured long takes and a mobile camera. All this allows us to move back and forth and toward and away from his characters, sympathizing with them in close-up one moment, then judging at a detached angle or pan to another character's reaction. It is a wonderfully effective method, and constantly reminds us of each character's motivations (as do the relentless melodramatics.)

Techine's films aren't formally difficult, but if you lose track at one point it's hard to catch up, because his characters will have accumulated even more motivations and reactions by then. The intense sensitivity of his style allows us to accurately register each character's accumulating layer of emotions, which continually enlarge their motivations. To lose track of that accumulative process is probably what happened to Roger Ebert, who wrote the film should have been a gangster drama made in 1939, so that the melodramatic plot would seem more acceptable and Techine's moments of psychological insights wouldn't seem so "out of place." (The film IS primarily flawed in the sketchiness of the convict's lover and the overly-rushed pace of the climactic sequence.)He doesn't consider that the melodrama of the plot is precisely what allows for those moments of psychological insight. And desire for the film to be an old-fashioned crime noir seems inexplicable, when this is obviously a family drama where crime serves to provoke a shake-up and re-evaluation of family relations and the life-directions the characters have chosen. At the end of "Scene of the Crime" we're not sure whether Thomas and Lili have either recovered or damaged forever. And as Lili hauntingly remarks, after a certain point, losing and finding yourself may be the same process.

It is generally considered that Catherine Deneuve 'came of age' as an actress in 'Le Dernier Métro' for Francois Truffaut. Their relationship had been far more than purely professional and his death four years later prompted her to take a much-needed break from filming. When she returned to the fray she made this film for André Téchiné with whom she had already established a strong professional rapport in 'Hotel des Amériques'.

Téchiné was renowned for his skill with actors and his style of direction suited her perfectly, so much so that four more collaborations were to come, notably 'Ma Saison Préférée'.

Although very much a vehicle for his leading actress, every character is well drawn in this portrait of fractured relationships and family disintegration. Téchiné excelled in depicting what one critic has termed 'outward conformity and inner confusion' and this film is certainly no exception.

Téchiné has elicited a marvellous performance from Nicolas Giraudi as her troubled teenage son whilst Victor Lanoux is pitch-perfect as her ex-husband. Claire Nebout makes a striking debut whilst the charismatic Wadeck Stanczac appears in his second film for this director. The grandmother who vainly tries to keep up appearances and preserve the family unit is played by Danielle Darrieux, a doyenne of French cinema and one of its true 'greats'.

The somewhat melodramatic material has been tempered by the literate script and by Téchiné's sensitive, elegant direction. The natural setting is beautifully captured by Pascal Marti whilst Philippe Sarde's score is effective but never intrusive.

Mlle Deneuve fondly remembered her participation in this as giving her a pleasure similar to that she had experienced when making 'Le Dernier Métro' and Téchiné freely admitted that their collaboration was the only area where his work showed continuity. Every director needs a Muse and some are lucky enough to find one.

As in most of André Téchiné's films, Le lieu du crime is a slow-burning psychological thriller revolving around repressed emotions, fractured families, and the search for love. From the opening scene in a remote cemetery-a clear homage to the opening of Great Expectations-to the closing shot of Lili being driven into exile in a police van, this is a story of characters clinging to freedom in any form they can grasp.

Let me make my bias clear: I am an Alfonso Cuarón fan, and his adaptation of Great Expectations remains my favorite. Still, even the subtle nod to Dickens in Téchiné's work had me wishing, "If only Téchiné would direct a Charles Dickens adaptation!"

With assistance from co-writers Pascal Bonitzer and Olivier Assayas (both of whom have since become directors themselves), Téchiné weaves narrative twists that obscure some of the plot's illogical turns, keeping the audience constantly guessing.

Pascal Marti's signature unsettling camera movements and deceptively simple editing style evoke the tension and immediacy of rapid sketches. From the first frame to the last, nearly every scene is imbued with a sense of anticipation and menace. This is a post-New Wave work where human and psychological motivations take precedence over formal innovation, yet it carries the unmistakable traces of New Wave cinema-elements we sorely miss in contemporary French filmmaking.

The casting is praiseworthy, particularly Catherine Deneuve, who delivers a subtle and commanding performance, and Nicolas Giraudi, whose portrayal of a lost child searching for a father figure is equally compelling.

"Scene Of The Crime" (1986) is a "calm" thriller very much in the Claude Chabrol tradition: the crime(s) is used as a catalyst for human drama, in this case mostly about a dysfunctional family. Pretty rural scenery and another strong Catherine Deneuve performance (here middle-aged, but ageless) are the film's main assets: in some of the best scenes, she shares the screen with another French cinema legend, Danielle Darrieux. On a small note, this is probably the first film I have seen that - logically - suggests that characters who have spent a lot of time in prison should be ghostly pale! **1/2 out of 4.