Barracuda (1997)
Directed by Philippe Haïm

Film Review

Philippe Haïm had established himself as a much sought-after film score composer before he made this, his first film, in 1997.  Not surprisingly, one of the strengths of Barracuda is its rich and varied music, which is as much a fabric of the film as the moody, claustrophobic cinematography and the intentionally kitsch setting.   What is more surprising is how masterfully Haïm succeeds in creating a fantasy world that is both spookily unreal and chillingly banal.  Starting as a seemingly low-key conventional drama, Barracuda quickly mutates into something must more enticing and unsettling - a stylish psychological thriller laced with more than a hint of black comedy.  With a few homoerotic touches thrown in, it may also be fair to describe the film as a gay psycho-sexual fantasy, although such an epithet doesn't really do justice to the film's truly bizarre format or its palpable human dimension.  It would be equally possible to categorise Barracuda as a love story, albeit not quite the kind most people would expect of French cinema. The nearest thing to it is probably François Ozon's equally bizarre Gouttes d'eau sur pierres brûlantes (2000).

The drama revolves around the interplay of the two central characters, a handsome young artist named Luc and a reclusive sixty-year old man named Clément.  The former is a minnow who is haplessly scooped up by the latter, the predatory 'barracuda' of the film's fishy title.  Luc's desire to escape compels him to understand Clément's psychology.  Clément, meanwhile, wants to transform Luc into the son he never had, contrary to the wishes of his bitchy plastic “wife”.  Unfortunately for Luc, the only relationship the old man has had with a living thing for the past twenty or so years is that which has enjoyed with his pet goldfish.  The scenario may sound ludicrously contrived or, at best, surreal but Haïm's visually alluring realisation of it renders this odd-ball nightmare frighteningly plausible.

Whilst the film is heavy on dialogue it never flags for a moment, and there are plenty of unexpected surprises along the way.  One of the film's unusual devices is to send the narrative down a "blind-alley" as one of the protagonists imagines a possible outcome from his actions.  This contrivance works well, emphasising the desperation of the two characters as they struggle to keep on top of a situation that appears to be rapidly getting out of hand.  In such a set-up, the actual reality and an imagined projected future reality may well become fused together, at least in the minds of its players.  Whilst this idea could have been pursued a little further, particularly in the latter part of the film, Haïm appears reluctant to do so, probably for reasons of narrative coherence.  Overall, the director just about gets the right balance between in-your-face innovation and audience discomfort.

In his first significant film role, Guillaume Canet (the future director of the acclaimed thriller Ne le dis à personne (2006)) does rather a good job in his portrayal of the tormented victim of a decidedly sinister neighbour.  The role demands a great deal, particularly since Luc's suffering is apparently the only real thing in this bizarre psychological fantasy.  He works well along side the film's lead actor, Jean Rochefort, despite the vast difference in age and experience between the two actors.   Canet has since confirmed his talent in various films, both as an actor and a promising director.

In the role of Monsieur Clément, Jean Rochefort gives what must surely rate has his most disturbing and enigmatic screen performance to date.  There is no question that the character played by Rochefort - a solitary old man with an unhealthy fetish for Fred Astaire - is unhinged, devoid of morals and capable of any conceivable perversion.  Nothing he does to his helpless victim would surprise us after he knocks him senseless with the butt of a fire extinguisher (something which gives the film its underbelly of macabre excitement).  What is more unnerving is Clément's apparent gentleness towards his victim - he looks far more sympathetic than we would like him to be.  Clément's perverse actions lack an evil imperative, his enforced solitude seemingly justifying his behaviour and giving the character a tragic dimension.  We end up pitying this sad old man more than the brutalised, shit-scared Luc.   What Rochefort does well, and this film is an excellent example of this, is to bring depth and humanity to his characterisation.  Far from being a shallow villain, Clément is disturbingly real, a hopeless wretch whose desire to be loved has driven him to the absolute edge of sanity.  It's a worrying thought, but he could conceivably be any one of us. Philippe Haïm followed this impressive debut feature with, to coin a phrase, something completely different - Les Dalton (2004), a lame comedy based on the popular Lucky Luke comicbook stories.

Film Synopsis

Luc, a young comic-book artist, is settling into his new apartment with his wife Margot when he meets his neighbour, Monsieur Clément.  Luc casually accepts the latter's invitation to have dinner with him and his wife but he forgets as he is too preoccupied with the fact that his wife is about to give birth.  With his wife away, Luc finally gets round to keeping his dinner date with his friendly neighbour, and is surprised to discover that he is an obsessive fan of the American dancer Fred Astaire.  Even more surprising is Luc's discovery that Monsieur Clément's so-called wife is in fact a full-size plastic doll.  Too late does it dawn on Luc that he is being entertained by a raving lunatic.  Before he knows it, he has been struck and rendered unconscious.  When he comes to he finds that he has been gagged and tied up in his host's bathroom.  Every time Luc tries to escape Monsieur Clément is forced to punish him.  When Margot returns, her neighbour tells her that her husband had to go away.  As the months pass, Luc remains Monsieur Clément's prisoner and plaything...