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Poulet au Vinaigre
RRP: £14.37
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A fine, murderous black comedy by Claude Chabrol
Review date: 2007-08-10 Rating: 8 out of 10
This is an elegant, satisfying and murderous black comedy by Claude Chabrol, who some call the French Hitchcock. This does a disservice to both men. Chabrol in my view can be far more disturbing than Hitchcock (see La Ceremonie) and is more varied in the type of films he makes. Hitchcock's duds are seldom just dull, however, but sometimes Chabrol's, in my opinion, are. Both are excellent in their own styles and techniques.
Poulet au Vinaigre (Chicken in Vinegar) tells us about a mother, Madame Cuno (Stephane Audran), confined to a wheelchair in a large, aging house, and her son, Louis (Lucas Belvaux), who delivers mail in the town and is under his mother's thumb. It's also the story of the attempt to take the house and its property for a land speculation deal by three citizens of the town. There is the lecherous, slithering lawyer with a beautiful mistress, the unscrupulous doctor with a rich wife and a fondness for plaster reproductions of life-size sculptures and the brutal, loud-mouth butcher who makes threats as easily as he cuts chops. Madame Cuno, whose husband disappeared 12 years previously with a younger woman and who was crippled in a fall down the stairs just before he left, absolutely will not hear of selling. Her son takes the mail these three men receive and, with his mother, steams the letters open to find out their secrets. Madame Cuno dominates her son, fearful he'll leave her. He acquiesces but may have intentions of his own. Certainly the luscious post teller he works with has intentions toward him. Then people start to die. First to go is the butcher in a car crash. Sugar was found in the gas tank. Then the doctor's wife is not to be seen. He tells everyone she is in Switzerland. Before long the lawyer's mistress, who was a friend to the doctor's wife, has gone missing, leaving only a short, type-written note.
Into this malicious and puzzling mix appears Inspector Jean Lavardin (Jean Poiret). Lavardin looks at life through the eyes of a skeptic. He can be pleasant enough when it serves him, but he doesn't mind using a punch in the stomach, a dousing in a wash basin filled with water or a break-in to an apartment. "I'm paid -- not very much -- to nose around, spy, pester people," he says. "You understand?" He's not squeamish. He can try to slip a ring on the gruesomely burned hand of a two-day-old corpse. And he has his pleasures. Each morning since he was eight he has had the same breakfast, two fried eggs, yolks runny and sprinkled with paprika. He only eats the yolks, dunking his bread in them with enthusiasm.
Chabrol takes us through this story with assurance and amused observation. Just how much of a mental case is Madame Cuno and what might she be capable of...or has been capable of? When she suspects her son has a girlfriend, at dinner she silently and obsessively cuts up and eats her baked tomato, then explodes. "No dessert for you," she cries to him. "You hate your father! You're a deserter!" Is her son really the the dutiful young man? He's certainly capable of malicious mischief. What will be the affect on him if that beautiful bit of fluff he works with succeeds in winning him away from his mother for a lunch hour at her apartment? And, of course, there is the matter of the bodies. Just where are they and who is who?
Jean Poiret does a masterful job as the cynical Inspector Lavardin. The inspector is not intimidated by anyone, especially the puffed-up bourgeoisie of this French town. He's no one's fool. You'd be making a mistake if you fall for his friendliness. Poiret captures this mixture of cynical amusement and readiness to use force.
Chabrol, in my view, accomplished two things with great skill. He disguised what the murders might be about until half way through, during which time he caught me up in who these characters were and how they related to each other...then he threw up a smokescreen that could be logical and might have led in another direction. I found myself smiling at the way he fooled me. And he played fair with the clues and implied motives.
But why did the U.S. distributors stick Cop au Vin on as a title? I suppose because it's a bad pun on Coq au Vin, chicken stewed with wine, as something more easily understood than the original title, Poulet au Vinaigre (chicken stewed with vinegar). I think they missed the point. Inspector Lavardin brings a healthy dose of vinegar, not wine, to this French dish. The DVD transfer looks just fine and the subtitles are easy to read. There are a couple of small extras but nothing of any special interest.
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Product Details/Specifications
Actor(s):
Jean Poiret
Jean Topart
Stéphane Audran
Lucas Belvaux
Michel Bouquet
Creators:
Jean Poiret (Primary Contributor)
Stéphane Audran (Primary Contributor)
Jean Rabier (Cinematographer)
Claude Chabrol (Writer)
Monique Fardoulis (Editor)
Marin Karmitz (Producer)
Dominique Roulet (Writer)
Director(s):
Recording label: Warner
Manufacturer: Warner
EAN: 3700224300555
Binding: DVD
Format: Anamorphic, Full Screen, PAL,
Release date: 2002-10-16
Aspect ratio: 1.66:1
Audience rating: Suitable for 15 years and over
Region code: 2
Running time: 110 minutes
Theatrical release date: 1985-04-10
Language: English (Subtitled)
Language: French (Original Language)