El carnicero

Delicate-precise portrait of a small community, admirable force of silence, an imposible love story and the tension as fine embroidery. A great film for the art of exploration of nuances of Claude Chabrol. , for the great performance of Stephane Audran and, off course, for the special Popaul by Jean Yanne .

Chabrol's triumph and also Stephane Audran's finest performance;only "le festin de Babette" will give her a part as strong as this one.She plays a luminous radiant beaming schoolteacher ,teaching her pupils spelling with a little help from Honore de Balzac and dance with "le menuet du Bourgeois Gentilhomme",a Molière-Lully collaboration.She epitomizes honesty,loyalty,innocence and devotion to her work.In direct contrast to her,we have Popaul,the butcher,masterfully played by Jean Yanne (He's never been as good as with Chabrol:please,please,do see "que la bête meure" (The beast must die)):He's obviously in love with Hélène /Audran but he realizes the gap between them.He's a crude uneducated brute,but his clumsiness is so touching you side with him.But we know from the start that won't be a happy story:the first scene,dealing with Cro-Magnon in dark caves heralds a story of blood and bestiality.Popaul is Cro-Magnon ,but he's also a victim of the war they waged with his blood.Chabrol 's camera insists on the war memorial,this inhuman piece of stone surrounded by four shells.LOOKS are more important than words between Popaul and Hélène,and as she begins to comprehend the horror of the situation,we know ,that in spite of what Popaul has done,she feels for him.Chabrol excels in depicting a small village ,French critics often compare him to an entomologist."Le boucher" remains his finest work to date.

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.

From the opening title sequences we are drawn into a world torn between the veneer of civilization and the desperate struggle of the caves. Two very different and yet lonely souls meet and fall in love. Cliched, yes, but it is not the concier of love that drives this film, it is the inevitable conflict, the inevitable discovery that all is not as it seems. there is something dreadful haunting the serenity of the Dordogne valley and chabrol is going to give it every twist and turn it deserves.

Stephane Audran and Jean Yanne are not the most likely lovers, yet once they meet their attraction works we believe in them. We hope with Helene for the best and we fear with Popaul for the worst in humanity.

Ultimately the truth must come forth and when it does we believe in the truth of the moment. The characterizations are flawless. This is perhaps Chabrols best work dark moody and so tightly constructed that one must remember to breathe. (Though I must confess that I loved The Story of Women- and Madame Bovary as well)

metro_alma@earthlink.net

In my ongoing program of finally seeing films I should have seen years ago, tonight I watched "Le Boucher" on VHS. After two minutes of it, I wasn't sure I could bear to watch any more. And there was no overt cause for my uneasiness! All that was being shown was a simple country wedding banquet--yet there was such a palpable sense of unrest and evil that I felt like crawling down into the sofa to escape from it. And this relentlessly oppressive atmosphere persisted through the entire film.

How Claude Chabrol managed this seeming magic is beyond my comprehension. He instantly draws the viewer into a world very similar to Hitchcock's, but without the comic relief that Hitchcock unfailingly put into his films. Without the relief of tension that comedy affords, the experience of the film becomes almost unbearable--but I managed to sit through this entire short masterpiece, marveling at how a skilled director can create so much nerve-wracking suspense with so few means.

I was especially impressed by the film's totally unpretentious nature. The lighting is downright amateurish (on purpose, I'm quite certain), there are no special effects whatever, the dialogue is simple and straightforward: and in a theatrical setting, I think I would have been about scared out of my pants.

I can see why Chabrol has been called "the French Hitchcock." The honor is well and truly deserved.