Worth: $14.00
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Cast:
Gerard Depardieu, Melanie Bernier, Jade Labeste, Andre Wilms, Aurore Clement, Herve Pierre
Intro:
...static, slow and unengaging...
Maigret is one of those fabled detectives who, like Holmes and Poirot, has leapt off the literary page to become a sort of metonym for dogged intelligence and the power of deductive reasoning. The character was the creation of Belgian writer Georges Simenon who lived to a ripe old age and produced dozens of novels. Given the long history, it is not surprising that there have been many adaptations for both the small and big screen.
Now comes another version, this time by seasoned and wily French director Patrice Leconte (Ridicule, Monsieur Hire). Leconte should be the perfect man for the job as he has a great sense of period, loves intricate plots and in-depth studies of human psychology. The casting of one of France’s living legends, Gerard Depardieu as the eponymous sleuth should seal the deal. Sad to report then, the film doesn’t quite live up to its promise.
There is no faulting the sense of period (cars, interiors, costumes) and the artful way in which it is shot (by Yves Angelo), but somehow it never takes flight. There are themes here – the pain of losing a daughter, the sense that peoples’ lives are vulnerable even though they do not know it – but the film remains static, slow and unengaging.
The plot starts as all good detective stories should, with a crime scene and a body. We are also in familiar territory when we realise that the victim is an attractive young woman who may or may not have been mistaken for a lady of the night. Into this mystery lumbers the giant form of Maigret.
In the original books, the detective is described as powerfully built and there is nothing wrong with being imposing. In fact, Depardieu in his lugubrious way fits the bill. However, it is hard not to notice just how big he has become in a way that is almost distracting. He constantly wears a huge raincoat, and you find yourself idly thinking of those circus gags where three small people get inside one coat. You keep waiting for the coat to open and a head to appear waist-height.
As noted, Leconte is a director of great skill and subtlety. Depardieu can be powerful and charismatic when he tries. Some may argue that his performance is interior and designed to show the detective’s inner sorrow (the crimes have resonances with his own personal family tragedy), but in another way it looks as if he is not quite with us.
