Directed By: Guillaume Canet
Written By: Guillaume Canet and Philippe Lefebvre
Starring: François Cluzet as Alexandre Beck, Marie-Josée Croze as Margot Beck, Gilles Lellouche as Bruno
Let me just say that I’m definitely not a big fan of thriller movies. I mean, it’s not like I’m one of those people who only watch slow-moving philosophical films and constantly deride the rest for their vapid superficiality; it’s just that too many (inept) filmmakers tend to think that thriller films get to be unoriginal and formulaic simply because they are by nature, mainstream films. If they aren’t spectacularly clumsy (Taylor Lautner’s abominable Abduction), then they are spectacularly absurd (Ballistic: Ecks VS Sever) or spectacularly predictable (Aronofsky’s Black Swan). Of course, every genre attracts their own fair share of morons: arthouse films are often bogged down by incoherent pretensions and comedy films often descend into brainless, aimless camp. But at least you don’t have to sit through painfully long sequences of gratuitous suspense and arbitrary explosions. Noise, in the right hands, is a powerful instrument that can effectively build and release emotional tensions (David Lynch’s Eraserhead and Lost Highway are excellent showcases, even if they aren’t actually very good films). In most thriller films, however, noise is a ploy to distract the audience from the sheer stupidity of the uninspired plot. Thriller films also seem to attract tons of horrible screenwriters (The fantastically awful Resident Evil film series), which inevitably translates to flat, inhuman characters and lackluster (if any) comic relief. Of course, there are occasional thrillers with an abundance of suspense, inventiveness, (Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho is magnificent) humanity and wit (Joss Whedon’s Serenity adroitly alternates between fall-down funny dialogue and tear-jerking sincerity), but few manage to sustain an atmosphere heavy with suspense and longing as well as Tell No One, one of the most well-made films — and certainly the best thriller film — I have ever seen.
For starters, the acting is absolutely brilliant. Bruno is played with unpretentious, thuggish machismo, but Lellouche never allows his portrayal to descend into a flat, unintentional parody. When he brings his weak son to the hospital, he is necessarily flustered and aggressive, but when his son is taken from him into the emergency room, he momentarily does away with his tough-guy image and subtly reveals himself to be an ordinary, helpless, vulnerable father. When he then suddenly reverts back into his gangster persona, what easily might’ve become an inappropriate attempt at comic relief is instead imbued with fear, tension and poignancy. When Bruno swiftly guns down Beck’s female captor, he doesn’t take any shots more than necessary, and is visibly shaken afterwards, because he is a person who knows what must be done although he has too much heart to not feel bad about it. It’s a very delicate balance for an actor who is not given very little screentime to explore his character’s depth, and Lellouche definitely deserves some major props for bringing so much humanity to a role that would’ve been otherwise dismissed as an expedient plot device. François Cluzet, the film’s scared, unwitting hero, deserves an Oscar nod (at least) for his no-bullshit performance as a heartbroken doctor whose love for his wife is so strong it manages to ground an entire film. For all his bravery and perseverance, he never once projects superhero-esque fearlessness, because Cluzet is too smart to think that the film is about Alexandre Beck. This is not a film that seeks to celebrate the stuntwork of its protagonist — that would be absurd; this is a film that celebrates the love between two people, and that incidentally, inadvertently provides a thrilling, suspenseful ride. Even when Cluzet does some genuinely crazy shit on a highway with a fuckton of speeding vehicles, he is tentative but insistently goal-oriented, scared but seemingly ignorant of his own fears. And when he reads his wife’s email in an Internet café, his eyes sparkle with a pure, delicate joy that is very rarely captured on film (Charlie Chaplin’s iconic smile at the end of City Lights comes to mind). That said, everyone in the supporting cast too pretty much gives uniformly excellent performances — especially Alex’s sister and her wife.
The cinematography in this film is quite wonderful. I especially liked its frequent use of single-camera tracking shots. Thrillers tend to overuse static multi-camera shots, because it is apparently the general consensus among half-wits that continuous, rapid changes in camera angles result in the effective buildup of tension and suspense. What’s also very appealing is how Canet effortlessly churns out a fuckton of throwaway visual symbols, which is something more often seen in arthouse films than in any other genre. For example, when Alexandre and Monica drive into a road tunnel, for example, the camera follows them and slowly blacks out, preparing us for a new act, and for the beginning of Alexandre’s real journey to discovering what happened to his wife. It’s a very simple thing to do, but it’s just very uncommon for thrillers (in particular) to display the same visual smarts as Tell No One does. The use of lighting here reminds me very much of another french film Irreversiblê, which too alternates between gentle, golden lighting and harsh, neon and fluorescent glares. But what’s so fantastic about Offenstein’s visual style is not just that he appropriates what Canet loves about the indie arthouse scene and seamlessly incorporates it into a fast-paced mainstream thriller, but that he uses a wide variety of different shots and effects, and opts for maximum visual impact over stylistic consistency. It makes the film less visually recognizable, but it also focuses one’s attention on the plot and characters (which are abundantly substantial), and helps us keep up with the film’s rapid pace.
Sometimes, Tell No One is admittedly almost a difficult watch in its speed, especially because there are many characters that we are expected to care and know about, and few of them have much screen time. But then again, it’s also really nice that we finally have a thriller that challenges the audience to be fast enough to catch on, and that has a pace that reflects the emotional discordancy of its protagonist. After the first 10 minutes or so, almost every piece of dialogue is important; if not to expose inner emotional tensions, then for future plot purposes. It’s a little insane, I know, but it keeps you perpetually on your feet – which is exactly what a thriller should be. There’s a lot of suspense, and there’s a constant need for emotional catharsis, but the payoffs are never as radically dramatic as lesser directors would have. Instead, Canet almost forgets about the audience (that’s a good thing here) make his world believable. For all its rapidity, the film’s speed never eclipses its important, humane moments. Canet is a director who understands the need for space, and deals with his characters’ emotions with grace, delicacy and finesse. When the film opens, he dedicates a substantial amount of time to small talk, because he doesn’t really think that heart-stopping action can be the main point of any film. He gives Alexandre as much time as possible to reflect on his life and his love for his wife. He gives Margot ample time to wordlessly reciprocate that. He gives Monica and her wife ample time to carve out individual identities. He never rushes them at all, because he knows that this will only be a special film if it is visibly driven by character and not by plot — and it is a very, very special one indeed.
Criticisms would probably be directed to many of the films unanswered questions: Will they ever explain Laurentin’s death to his wife? Does she already know his plans? Will blame Margot for his death? How will Margot live with that? But to get caught up in questions would severely diminish the point of the film. Canet opts to dispense with the questions, because he doesn’t want to make a film about moral ambiguity; he wants to make a film that celebrates love. It’s a very romantic gesture, and some would find it overly sentimental, but I’m a sucker for sweet things.
Ultimately, Tell No One isn’t a particularly deep film, and it is firmly grounded by the love between two people – something that has been worn of its novelty since the dawn of literature. But it does have an engaging premise, powerful performances, a mindblowingly complex plot, a brilliant director and a great crew to boot. I haven’t watched Canet’s Little White Lies yet, so I don’t know how bad his ‘bad’ gets (the film was something of a critical bomb) but I mean, even if Tell No One were to remain his only good film, Canet would still have a place among the new generation of film greats.
KevinScale Rating: 5/5
therein, Therin. 