When an 11-year-old girl is brutally raped and murdered in a quiet French village, a police detective who has forgotten how to feel emotions--because of the death of his own family in some kind of accident--investigates the crime, which turns out to ask more questions than it answers.
Winter, 1915. Confined by her family to an asylum in the South of France - where she will never sculpt again - the chronicle of Camille Claudel's reclusive life, as she waits for a visit from her brother, Paul Claudel.
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In a town near Lille, melancholy police superintendent Pharaon De Winter lives with his mother. An 11-year-old girl has been raped and murdered. Over the next week, De Winter investigates and grieves, his face nearly expressionless. He bikes, he gardens. He accompanies his neighbors, Joseph and Domino, to dinner and to the seaside; he even observes them in vigorous if not rough coitus. For Domino, sex seems her way of connecting. Does she fancy Pharaon? A plowed field, the sea, Pharaon's flowers, the pudenda of Domino and of the ravaged girl - this mix of images of beauty, evil, and possibility assaults Pharaon as he tries to do his job and hold on to his humanity. Written by
I saw this film at the Edinburgh Film Festival, and would not recommend it. It is two and a half hours long, during which nothing much happens at a wading-through-porridge pace.
The main characters are gormless and totally lacking in charisma or personality. No-one smiles at all during the film (neither would I if I had their lives), and although Domino seems to have a healthy sexual appetite she doesn't seem to enjoy sex at all.
The whole experience is depressing and ponderous, the director lingering over each scene in a way that drove me crazy rather than striking me with the beauty of his technique.
Too many questions were left in my mind: why does he sniff the Algerian man's head? Why does he levitate? What is he looking at over the allotment fence? Why does he kiss Joseph? Why did we go and see this rubbish rather than ordering another bottle of wine in Bouzy Rouge?
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