Eiskalt wie das Schweigen

Is it me? Am I just overly cynical and jaded? Or is it patently absurd for Peggy to have ever agreed to see Francois again after they first meet, and for him to use the words "I miss you" after he's known her a total of, what, one day, and seen her twice? Moreover, while Francois is obviously written as a boorish oaf, and Alain Delon capably plays him as such, the tack is more obnoxious than it is entertaining, especially as it spills over into the broad tone of the film; I can never tell if this thriller is self-serious, or a parody. As if to emphasize the point, we're treated to a surprising amount of plot in the first quarter of the length, dispensed very casually - a narrative, with scene writing and dialogue, that's so melodramatic as to recall the most blustery B-movies of misunderstood U. S. network Lifetime. I'm not saying 'Les seins de glace' can't still be worthwhile such as it is, but however this looked when it was released in 1974, 49 years later the response it evokes isn't exactly what I think was intended.

Unfortunately, it doesn't get better. In fact, it gets much worse. The movie continues to throw ideas, story beats, and little moments at us that don't make any sense, or that pointedly confuse the tone it's trying to adopt - whatever that amorphous tone might be. I'm not impressed generally with what this pretends is "plot development"; how can I be, when I don't rightly know just from watching this what the plot even is? 'Les seins de glace' is terrible at establishing who characters are, not least those who are killed; the Who, What, Where, Why, and How are undetectable by modern science. I can't say I'm familiar with Richard Matheson's novel that this is supposedly based on, but I assume the notions unconvincingly represented here come from source material that's more solid and sensible. Presumably it's filmmaker Georges Lautner, directing from his own adapted screenplay, who has minced 'Someone is bleeding' into a form that rather comes across as a series of empty images and half-baked thoughts. Or maybe Matheson is responsible after all, and Lautner is surprisingly faithful. Maybe editor Michelle David has chopped up a cohesive, coherent tale into an indiscernible shape. I don't know. All I know is that this picture is astonishingly bad at communicating its narrative, let alone any feelings that a title of this ilk should conventionally impart. It comes close at multiple points to being laughably bad, but the storytelling is too scattered even to have fun at the feature's expense. For all this, furthermore, 105 minutes are agonizingly long, and it's impossible to care about the contributions of anyone else involved, cast or crew.

I sat to watch with no foreknowledge or expectations, as innocent as a newborn kitten. I'm altogether flummoxed by what this is. I recognize fractured pieces of what may have been a complete, compelling thriller, or alternatively, a comedy. As it stands, however, I just don't know what's going on here. I can't help but think of a remark I saw someone make, suggesting that modern audiences are too obsessed with plot and have forgotten how to just let a film be what it is, and have fun with it. Well, that sentiment is fine with action blockbusters, and flicks that are more about general vibes than a concrete plot, but if the heart and core of a film is the tale it's trying to weave, then plot is indeed essential. Suffice to say that no matter how you look at it, as far as I'm concerned 'Les seins de glace' is a hopeless mess. I will allow the possibility that I checked out too early from this hodgepodge and I never gave it a chance to recover, but even then I don't think that speaks well to the end result. I'm glad for those who get more out of this picture; I just don't know how they manage to do it. However you came across this, whatever your impetus for watching, there are countless other things you could and should be watching instead. Don't waste your time here.

It looks like an American film noir from the forties with Mireille Darc instead of Lizabeth Scott or Jane Greer and Claude Brasseur instead of Arthur Kennedy or Dick Powell. It remains French in the making, action, editing, atmosphere but remains effective, and above all dark. Brasseur is rather good in the lead male character. The director George Lautner was a great comedies specialist, but when he tried something different, he succeeded as well: LES SEINS DE GLACE, LE PACHA, LE PROFESSIONEL.... The trademark of a good film maker for me. The biggest surprise here is of course the ending that only a few could predict.

It is to my knowledge the only novel by the great Richard Matheson to have been transferred to the screen by a French director.

Georges Lautner,who made Mireille Darc a star in the sixties was responsible for ponderous comedies.From time to time,he would come up with an intriguing offbeat work.So were the highly superior "le septieme juré", "La route de Salina" (Rita Hayworth's fans should have a look) and "la maison assassinée"."Les seins de glace" (Matheson's "someone is bleeding ") has a good title:it's a wordplay: in French ,"saint" (saint) and seins (breast) are homonyms ."Les saints de glace" is a short period (11th ,12th and 13th of May) when the weather is reportedly cold.And the heroine's breasts are icy cause she cannot stand men anymore.

Unfortunately ,I do not think that this movie is on a par with the three movies I mention above:first of all,Mireille Darc is a limited actress and her acting is not effective in a part which demands intensity,mystery and ambiguousness.Think of Catherine Deneuve in Roman Polanski's "repulsion" and you will know what I mean.But that's not the only flaw.First intriguing and even absorbing in its first half hour ,the movie becomes repetitive and drags on.You will guess the final twist long before the end.

Delon appears only after 20 minutes.He and Darc were in love at the time and that explains why the final scene has a certain strength ,not unlike what the French call "amour fou"

I came on this DVD in the bargain-department of a DVD-shop. For its price of 4 euros, I decided I could not go wrong in purchasing it. The design of its sleeve attracted me, as well as the names of Mireille Darc, Alain Delon and Claude Brasseur. Names that guaranteed a minimum-level of quality in the French cinema during the second half of the last century.

And yes, while watching it turned out that I guessed right. 'Les seins de glace' (= French for 'the breasts of ice') is a very Seventies French thriller. Outdated now, but its charm & tense clearly haven't got lost. And yes again, I also know better thrillers than this one, but that does not qualify 'Les seins de glace' as bad.

Styling and picturing are up to the standards of 1974. The plot of 'Les Seins de Glace' may not be complete but makes sense, and the film is carried on well by Brasseur, Darc and Delon. They make you a pleasant watch.

My copy of this film has the uninspired title, Someone is Bleeding, which didn't seem very appropriate, and then I realised that the French title translates as Breasts of Ice, which just about makes sense. unhappy with either title I discover that the original novel by Richard Matheson was entitled, Someone is Bleeding. This is long out of print and almost impossible to obtain so I am unable to discover whether this is a faithful adaptation but have no reason to doubt it and am left pondering that maybe this was one of the great writers lesser works. Because the thing is, this is one of those films the Italians loved to make around the same time. Someone is going mad or are they and is someone trying to drive them mad or trying to help them? Can be good and with the giallo type film there would always be plenty of action to keep you occupied as you struggle to sort things out. Here the main protagonists are fine and Delon remains sufficiently poker faced throughout to just about keep us guessing but there just isn't enough to prevent this becoming just a little annoying. Well paced, decently shot and good performances all round, just could have done with a little Italian raciness instead of the rather dour French.