Maigret

Depardieu plays in this movie a french detective, but he doesn't play Maigret. Slow and boring movie, good actors, but Depardieu seems had never read a book of George Simenon. Maybe his intention was not to copy Jean Gabin or Gino Cervi, but if I go the movie to see Superman, my expectation is to see him flying. In this movie I haven't seen Maigret. For example, an Epicurean lover of food and good drinking is here on a diet, he does not smoke a pipe. Depardieu is too fat and immobile to try to transfigure the famous policeman. Depardieu here seems too sad and unhappy, but, I repeat, he's not Maigret.

The story is good enough to be invested in the movie, actors are great too but I don't know why there are so many shots with weird little zoom and shaky cam. It doesn't seem to evoke anything, just a terrible way to shoot and direct..

Methodical, old-fashioned whodunit, with perhaps the no 1 icon of French cinema for the past 4 or so decades finally playing perhaps the most iconic French detective in film history. And he is perfect as an old, down but not out Maigret; capturing his weariness from the passage of time, but also his determination to see justice done one more time. The mystery is short on suspects, but I liked the script's step-by-step structuring, with each small clue leading Maigret to the next one. Leconte does a fine, atmospheric job; with him at the helm, Depardieu in the main role and a more complicated script, the next Maigret movie (assuming it gets made) should have real potential. *** out of 4.

Slow pacing, gloomy atmosphere, linear plot, nothing original in a crime story.

Yet, it's a beautiful movie, perfectly executed.

Depardieu has a presence, seemingly effortless. Patrice Leconte has an entire career to show for.

All in all, a good movie.

From the director of the excellent Monsieur Hire - still one of the best Simenon adaptations - you certainly expect more than this tired, geriatric and rather pedestrian treatment. It's all very dark bluish, with unsteady camera, listless performances and general air of fatigue (it opens with Maigret's visit to the doctor).

It's a pity Lecont and Depardieu couldn't make Maigret sooner, in their better years (the novel was filmed before - much more lively if not particularly excitingly - with Jean Richard in 1973).