La Rupture (1970)
Directed by Claude Chabrol

Film Review

Judging by the end result, hallucinogenic drugs probably had a part to play with the conception and realisation of La Rupture, one of Claude Chabrol's weirder films.  It is one of those oddities which fall somewhere in the uncharted territory between psychological thriller and "theatre of the absurd" black comedy, and consequently has you wetting yourself for two entirely different reasons.  Not only is this one of Chabrol's most chilling and experimental films, it is also one of his most compelling, and the main reason for this are the spellbinding performances from its leads, Stéphane Audran and Jean-Pierre Cassel.

La Rupture belongs to a cycle of dramatic thrillers which Claude Chabrol made in the late 1960's, early '70s (regarded by many as his finest period) which explore such themes as marital infidelity, deception, revenge and manipulation, all with a distinctively acerbic tone and a certain amount of dark humour.   Other films in this cycle include the masterful triad of Le Boucher (1969), La Femme infidèle (1969) and Que la bête meure (1969).  What these films have in common is a wryly cynical view of human nature and the portrayal of the bourgeoisie as a corrupting influence on society.  La Rupture shows this most clearly, since the story is essentially a morality play about the unwarranted power that those who have money end up having over those who do not.  The ownership and abuse of power are central to much of Chabrol's oeuvre and we can see an obvious connection between the malign manoeuvrings of the well-heeled middle classes and the machinations of the evil genius Dr Mabuse in the Fritz Lang films.   The principal villain in La Rupture (the wicked step-father played by Michel Bouquet) is Mabuse in all but name, a man who believes he is God simply because he has money. 

As well as the Mabuse reference, La Rupture also involves three characters who recur in many of Claude Chabrol's early films - the impassive, mysterious Hélène and a mutually destructive duo compromising the controlling Paul and the pathetic victim Charles.   Of these, Hélène is the most interesting character - partly because her motivations are often shrouded in ambiguity, and partly because she appears to be the fixed point about which the drama revolves, strangely disconnected from what happens around her.  In La Rupture, Hélène is the personification of the ideal woman (no wonder then that Chabrol cast his wife Stéphane Audran in the part), someone who is incapable of being corrupted and manipulated and who is entirely untainted by malice.  Or is she?  How quickly we forget that scene when we first see her, when she is manically smashing her husband's head in with a frying pan...

The film's title is not without interest.  The epithet La Rupture is one that could be applied to the French New Wave, which saw the emergence of many new filmmakers in French cinema in the late 1950s, early 1960s, each having a radically different vision of the Seventh Art from his predecessors.  Claude Chabrol was one of this herd of firebrands, although his auteur wings were clipped at an early stage (through lack of funds) and his work soon tended to be far more conventional than most of his contemporaries.

In the context of this film, La Rupture initially appears to refer to the dramatic breakdown in the relationship between Hélène and Charles.  In fact, it has more to do with the attempt by Charles's indignant father to create a permanent breach between his family, which represents order, culture and moral perfection, and Hélène, whom he regards as gutter trash simply because she doesn't have a Diners' Club card.  Hélène's resolve to sever her ties with the bourgeois world she has grown to despise represents another kind of rupture, one that gives her moral superiority and a measure of invulnerability.  If that sounds familiar, try substituting the name Hélène for Diana, to get another well-known tale of marital rift with a tragic outcome...

For Chabrol himself, another "rupture" (i.e. break from what went before) is the film's excessive visual stylisation (which borders on expressionism) and playful theatricality.  These excesses are a little off-putting at first but turn out to be appropriate for a film whose central theme is mind control, since they provide a visual metaphor for what is happening to the victims in the drama, and also their subjective viewpoint.  And what is a filmmaker but a kind of arch-manipulator?   He is after all someone who sets out to shape our view of the world through the images he shows us...

Film Synopsis

Hélène Régnier walks out on her drug-addicted husband Charles after he brutally attacks their infant son.   She stays in a run-down hotel whilst her son convalesces in hospital and she files for divorce.  Charles's wealthy bourgeois father is adamant that Hélène will lose custody of her child and, to that end, he engages a former business associate of Charles, Paul Thomas, to discredit her.  When Paul fails to uncover any incriminating evidence against Hélène he concocts a scheme that will destroy her reputation.  Things do not go quite as planned...