Bastards

"NO, David, that's not how you make a thriller." "But the script is based on a bestseller, sir." "Gettin' real tired of your shit, Fincher, now sit your ass down. Right. Uumm... Claire! Would you please come up here and show these nitwits a thing or two?" "Oui, monsieur Franz, if I must." *makes Bastards* "Yes! Yes!! See?! THAT'S HOW IT'S FUCKING DONE! Very good, Claire. Top notch. You may return to your seat."

So Claire Denis makes a thriller? The fragmented narrative is fascinating (and the early repetition is actually quite Ozu-esque!) but I guess what separates this from her best work is that I'm not sure I care about what unfolds. It feels like a technical exercise, she's at the height of her powers sure and this *is* perfect filmmaking, but it seems invested in a quite banal moral code.

Ugh! I was not at all on Denis' wavelength. Neither the fact that it's undeniably stylishly made nor the compentent performance by the actor in the main role can ameliorate that it's a rather messy and really disgusting film.

Anything you can do, Claire Denis can do better.

Part psychological drama, part revenge thriller, Denis' Salauds enters the most perverted, filthy rooms of human soul through a story that is made not of victims, but demons, shot against red and brown walls and somber and blurry locations. Some might complain that the director has been "too narrative" since White Material, but every weird and uncomfortable sensation I had confirms that she also works well when there is a tight plot to develop -- and conflicts to solve.