The Butcher

Way back in the mid '80's we took a family holiday in the Dordogne where we devoted one day to a rather special pilgrimage. With the aid of a map the village of Tremolat was not difficult to find. Tremolat - the name evokes that most magical of village locations for probably our favourite and certainly most oft watched French film. On arrival what surprised us was an absence of tourists and coaches. Surely this would be like Oxford as it is now with its "Morse" tours; but with people discovering the location of the butcher's shop, the school with Madamoiselle Helene's little flat above, the church, the cemetery, the caves. But fifteen years after Chabrol made his most unforgettable film there, no one had got round to organising a "Boucher" tour. It was a case of making one ourselves. We were excited and in no way disappointed. Everything was there and we were even able to retrace the exact walk that Popaul and Helene had taken in that memorable tracking shot from the wedding party to the school in the village square. The location of the butcher's shop, although a domestic dwelling was clearly identifiable as was the school which was in fact the Mairie. As the latter was a public building we were able to enter and even mount those very same stairs only stopping when we reached the door. Beyond, an office perhaps, so we didn't break the spell by trying to enter.

Claude Chabrol died last year so this reminiscence is by way of being a belated tribute to the French director who, with the possible exception of Francois Truffaut, has given me the most pleasure over the years. I have caught up with much of his late oeuvre only in the past few months and have to confess to being often disappointed. He made far too many so there are quite a few potboilers. But way back in the crossover period between the late'60's and early '70's he made those three extraordinary psychological thrillers that are among the glories of French cinema - "La Femme Infidele", "Que La Bete Meure" and finest of all "Le Boucher". The sound of Popaul's soft cries of "Madamoiselle Helene" coming out of the darkness and the image of Helene standing alone by the river and silently staring ahead are unforgettable moments among so many. Thank you, Claude Chabrol, for the lasting pleasure of your three greatest films and for "Le Boucher" in particular.