Who Killed Marilyn?

This has to be one of the sexiest films made and only the French could do it so it is credible. Poor Hollywood! When it comes to sex scenes they fall flat every time. I wonder why that is? Anyhow, this film has lots of nudity - male and female - frontal and rear - but it is done in such a nonchalant way and even innocently that you are never offended but utterly intrigued. The story is quite original I think, at least, I have never come across a script quite like this one. It takes real life events and parallels them into a current story so that as you go through the story more and more connections with the real story and the fictional story add up to a very enticing affair altogether. The cast is absolutely gorgeous, especially the female lead and the male second lead who I actually got the film to see since I had seen him in another great French film where he goes to prison and becomes some brute's boy toy!!! Ah, heaven! How far away is it?

This crime writer arrives in winter and the first thing he sees is a dead woman being taken care of. That interests him and he starts to explore her life. It has voluntarily and involuntarily been a copy of the Marilyn Monroe story. Complete with "DiMaggio", "Arthur Miller" and so on.

It all turns into a crime story of the type he writes himself. But is it interesting? Absolutely too much of the traditional American thrillers here, but with people who don't belong there.

You can't even feel enough sympathy for the dead tragic woman to keep your interest up. It would have been better with more talk and less action.

Nobody Else but You (2011)

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Part sexual fantasy, part hardboiled detective story, part Twin Peaks surrealism, part Norwegian humor, and part sweet hometown romance.

No way? Yes way. Here's roughly how the director and writer Gerald Hustache-Mathieu pulled it off. First is the seemingly main story: a scruffy detective writer of few words is in this snowy village on the Swiss border called Mouth (it really exists) to collect his part of an inheritance, which turns out to be a stuffed dog. You think you're in for a bizarre and dry comedy. But he learns as he leaves town that the young female star of the village was found dead in the fields, officially a suicide. He sticks around to learn more, doubts grow, and he begins to play real world detective.

However, the opening scene before even this is a bright, dreamy sequence of a sexualized blonde woman talking to us in voice-over. We have no idea what's going on yet, but the sensual aspects clash with the reality of the rest. Yet the two worlds are the same, of course--the woman is the dead woman, and we see what is going on through her eyes, both as a corpse and in flashbacks. The flashbacks themselves are triggered by entries in a series of diaries left behind. And the story sweeps in a whole assortment of the local townspeople, many of them quirky types themselves (this is the David Lynchian part).

Then on top of this is a gradual realization that not only did the woman look like Marilyn Monroe (at least when she goes bright blonde) but she has many parallels to the icon's actual life. The detective begins to think this is more than coincidence, and while falling in love with the memory of this woman he never met, he uncovers more and more of the startling story of her sad life.

So, besides the director we have to completely admire the performances of the two leads--the detective played by Jean-Paul Rouve and the young woman played by Sophie Quinton. They are opposites in many ways, but both are a little bit famous and a little bit outcast, too. In the flashbacks and in the current story the two meet the same range of people, so we come to see the context with full complexity. And for those familiar with Monroe's life and lovers (purported and otherwise) the parallels only grow in fascination.

It's filmed with terrific energy, from fluid gorgeous camera-work to hand-held kinetic stuff with fast edits, including perky cuts to show faces and highly magnified closeups. (The most memorable of these is the view of the red shiny lips of Quinton as she sings "Poupoupidou" which is the original French title to the movie.) This is all lovely and hilarious and oddly sad, too. An inventive, terrific movie that manages to speed through a few weak points and make little of a contrivance or two, piling on a wonderful soundtrack, and keeping you on your toes from start to finish.

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I think the title of this review sums up the content of the movie! I thoroughly enjoyed this movie, particularly because I had no expectations. I loved the atmosphere and I think the director and crew where very attentive in giving it that 'thriller in the cold' feeling.

If you add the great soundtrack, the murder mystery and the actors, you have a very good ensemble. Sure, there were some imperfections in the plot (like who exactly is trying to kill the writer?) or loose ends (hotel girl crush on the writer) but I was so much into the atmosphere that it didn't really matter (for me) and it certainly didn't spoil my viewing experience.

I have to say though that I love thrillers with this kind of winter atmosphere like Insomnia, Les Rivières Pourpres, Whiteout or Millennium (the Swedish ones since I haven't seen the Hollywood style version yet).

Often a film critic references another film/actor/director in a review to give the reader some sense of the style of film one might expect. (ie: "Hitchcock-ian," "Spielberg-ian," "Uwe Boll-of-Crap," etc.) I'm guilty of this myself. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it hurts. The comparison often leads an audience to go into a film with certain expectations that are often unfulfilled.

Such is how it has been with "Nobody Else but You," a French film now in general release. The material I received when previewing this film compares it to a couple of films/TV shows and I think that, in this case, it does a disservice to the film. I found "Nobody Else but You" to be a winningly original, highly entertaining film and an absolute rarity – a mystery that doesn't telegraph its ending and manages to keep its reveal to the very (satisfying) end.

Set in small town France in the dead of winter - isn't winter the best season for mysteries? - Jean-Paul Rouve plays a mystery writer (with writer's block, of course) who arrives in town for the reading of a will. After disposing of his inheritance, he hits the road and comes upon a very unusual scene – a crime scene - the apparent suicide of the celebrity "spokesmodel" for the local dairy (Sophie Quinton.) What's a mystery writer to do? Investigate!

And so it begins. Yes, I know what you're thinking. None of this seems very original, but it's not the stock components (suicide/murder/writer's block/narration from beyond the grave, etc.) that make this film. It's what director Gerald Hustache-Mathieu does with them. He takes these hackneyed elements and constructs something new and refreshing around them – and he does it by taking all these mystery fundamentals and inserting them (in a very original way) into what we know about some very famous people.

I mean, when's the last time you saw a really good film that combined all those elements with the world's endearing obsession with Marilyn Monroe, her gay iconic status, her relationship with the Kennedys, the mystery surrounding her death and modern French politics - all set to the beat of a kick-ass soundtrack?

You haven't. Till now.

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