The Young Lieutenant

A young tough guy, eager to be a real cop solving real crime, and to be really cool. A middle-aged woman, alone, with personal problems but well organized and effective. Put these two together in a big city ("the jungle") in some cheesy office rooms, and you may expect to see another cliché cop-movie. But you're wrong.

First of all, this film contains not much action at all. The murder that things evolve around is not the main attraction, it is more of a catalyst for the development of the humans on screen. Furthermore, there is no music to "guide" us emotionally, and no extreme display of emotions (or overacting) as is so common. Instead we follow the characters at distance, but emotions are there, but like in real life, poorly articulated and often ambiguous. And the less glamorous work of attending an autopsy, and reactions to it, is also shown; just the sound is disgusting, and that scene of the film has for me a really artistic feeling to it: it highlights the "fleshy-ness" of the body, that it is not just an abstract piece in life, but something bulky, ugly, imperfect and vulnerable, which is quite a contrast to how the young tough guy probably considers himself.

These aspects together means that the film is more real. That does not have to be an advantage for a film - good film rarely limit itself to a display of reality. But to follow the development of the characters, their life and work, from a distance, sometimes with some police action added, as you do in a very precise way in this film, is very rewarding. This is a good drama with action content.

As in previous Beauvois' movies, this film is about loss. The loss is everywhere in the movie : the loss of the dead child of the main female character, the loss of a normal couple life for the "petit lieutenant" and, finally, his loss. What makes the movie so interesting is the way in which it uses the form of the cope movie (film noir) as a way to reflect the hardships of living with the memory of the dead, to go on while things are forever changed by their disappearance. At the same time, the form of the cope movie is more than a mere pretext: the director is very much at ease with the conventions of the genre and is very skillful at going beyond by adding stunning realistic elements. There is no heroism there, only gloom and despair. No big man hunt, but a very trivial one. A very good movie. A must see for lovers of french film noir.

A young lieutenant, fresh from school, starts in Paris in a homicide squad. He grew up in Le Havre, where his wife still teaches at school. He misses her and tries to get her to move to Paris too. His boss is a very good police inspector, who just returns to the police after having dropped for personal reasons. She had lost her only son and became an alcoholic. Now she is clean and takes over a new group. Soon they have to investigate the murder of a homeless person. The search for the killer brings big dangers for most of the group, but specially for the lieutenant and his boss.

The film shows some everyday routine of police work and how the officers enjoy themselves after their day is done. There are no big things going on, even the murder case is not very special. It is the personal situation of the two main characters that involves the interest of the audience. Well done, though not really great. 7 out of 10.

There's nothing very original about a rookie police officer from the provinces fresh out of police academy on his first assignment in Paris tackling a homicide case, yet director Xavier Beauvois; his star, the experienced Nathale Baye (who got a César for Best Actress for this role); and the other actors, some rookies, others veterans, have made something so fresh, exiting, and touching out of this material you almost feel as if nobody made a flic (cop) flick in France before – though of course such things are a longtime specialty there. Beauvois' Le Petit lieutenant simply shows that the French really know how to make movies. It doesn't matter how familiar the genre is, they can create something with texture and authenticity out of it.

For me the rich feel Beauvois brings to his seemingly conventional material begins with the fact that there's no background music – it gives events on screen an unadorned quality – and with the way Beauvois, who's still in his thirties, puts his own basic experience into the story. Antoine (Jalil Lespert), the "petit lieutenant," the rookie, grew up in Normandy dreaming of being a cop in Paris where the great crimes are solved, he says – inspired by watching movies too. Beauvois grew up in Normandy himself, dreaming the same kind of dreams, watching movies, only the dreams were dreams of going to Paris where the great movies are made. Make the simple equation: Crimes+movies=crime movies and you've got a director who's making a parable about his own life.

Caroline Vaudieu (Baye), the Inspector who chooses Antoine for her crime unit, is returning to work on the street again from a long period of the alcoholism that blighted both Beauvois' father's and his own life. Twelve-step recovery and addiction are felt and understood in the film. The AA meetings Caroline attends are in real AA meeting rooms with real alcoholics on screen. Caroline and Antoine are linked in ways that are felt, not contrived. She lost her son to meningitis nine years ago and Antoine's the age her son would be if he'd lived. Antoine's elementary school teacher wife has stayed in Normandy and now he has a room in Paris. He and Caroline share lonely lives; both are making a new start. And the casting is close to home in multiple ways: Beauvois, who also acts in the film as one of the crime team, Morbé, has cast Jalil's actor father Jean and brother Yaniss as his father and brother and his actress wife Bérangère Allaux as his wife.

The opening scenes of Antoine's graduation from police academy and being embraced and congratulated by his family, and the elaborate procedure by which the assignments are handed out to the new graduates, are moments that in other hands might seem routine, but here they fairly bristle with authenticity. Such realism takes time to achieve. Eventually Le Petit lieutenant is going to become exciting, even hair-raising, but it doesn't have the BANG! BANG! opening sequences dear to US directors, nor are those openings about Antoine simply routine: they're the beginning of an extended portrait of Antoine and his new life in Paris. This movie is fundamentally humanistic and it doesn't hurry because we need to get to know Antoine and the team he works with, feel the boredom and routine that are big parts of any cop's life, acquaint ourselves with the details of their personalities.

Somehow I don't think a rookie in an American cop movie would tell his dad that the extraction of a brain in his first witnessed autopsy made him think of Mozart and say "It's strange, I thought: 'Mozart was made of this too.'" There's no "need" for that moment; but it makes all the difference. It's of such moments that good movies are made.

Antoine's on night duty at first and when his team goes out he's made to stay behind to man phones. He gets drunk to celebrate his initiation, which is good for camaraderie (and for the rounding out of Antoine's character) but hard for Inspector Vaudrieu, who must stand by drinking nothing but soda water. As the film, knowing about alcoholism, makes us aware, the alcoholic is only one drink away from relapse, and such times are hard for Caroline. She has to leave the bar and go home early. Later naively the rookie admits to her he used to smoke the occasional joint and surprisingly, she shares one with him. There are inevitable hints from the outside that they might have an affair, but given the feelings, that would be incest. What's clear is that though not much time has passed, they've become close.

The first homicide is a homeless person in the Seine – petty stuff. But there are connections with another crime and the investigation turns serious. Eventually a failure of responsibility of one of the men leads to dire consequences. When the action really heats up, it's a shock that hits you in the stomach. The "dull, routine" establishing sequences have lulled you and made you forget that violence might be coming. They've also made you understand and care about the characters in an authentic-feeling way so that when somebody is at risk, you take it quite personally and the whole final section of the movie as its focus shifts more and more to Inspector Vaudrieu is tinged with overwhelming sadness.

Nothing that happens in Le Petit lieutenant is out of the ordinary. What's exceptional is the way the screenplay is written to make you care. There's excitement, tension, violence. But it's brilliantly yet understatedly contextualized. The awareness communicated is that cops' frequently numbing work can also be thrilling, important – and heartbreaking. Hollywood sends that message out too, but too often in tired language. Because Beauvois' team clearly cared about their work they've been able to show us cops that do so too.

(NYC March 2006.)

Le Petit Lieutenant makes Eastern Promises look like the mediocre knock off it is. "Eastern..." has nothing substantial to offer beyond a couple of signature scenes and is ultimately forgettable after the echo of its posturing and violence subside (can't really understand why the critics adore Cronenberg so much), and it is no more evident than when I compare his film to another that works so much better, like Le Petit Lieutenant (an 8 1/2 out of 10)

Both are dramas that operate fully within the "crime genre," but whereas there is very little that is original or compelling beyond the dramatic pretense of Eastern Promises, the French film is rich with characterizations and direction that lend depth to its realistic story. Whereas "Eastern..." creates slick, hip Hollywood scenes that tease and gratify our primal senses without really engaging any of its real dilemmas, "Petit..." draws us in (via a casual documentary like style) to the life of a young detective just out of cadet school who is becoming familiar with his co-workers and line of work on the streets of Paris. It is through him and his interactions with everything around him that we begin to experience something more dramatic, almost without realizing it, until the tragedy of common (rather than postured) occurrence invades our psyche, and plays out amidst a suspense created by the tension of anxiety, anguish, and inner strength of his chief inspector (a woman), portrayed with great humanity by Nathalie Baye.

Like all Hollywood movies, Eastern Promises offers the semblance of real drama at the beginning, only to abandon its stories and characters as it lapses into the improbability and titillation we have all grown accustomed to at the cinema. The french film, on the other hand, demonstrates its concern for the people it has given life to by engaging our own humanity rather than our anticipation of the next thrill that lies around the corner....

your cinewest correspondent