Masques

Masks is a gothic mystery of antique origin, successfully updated for a world a century later. To breathe new life into a well-worn story takes style, inventiveness, and brio - all of which Chabrol, co-writer Odile Barski, and a well-chosen cast bring in spades. The traditional shadows and spandrels of the genre are discarded in favour of a uniquely saccharine creepiness.

Philippe Noiret fits his role as smarmy TV show host Christian Legagneur (literally "the winner") like a glove. His program - in which elderly romantics compete in dancing and singing - feels eerily plausible. We spend most of the film at his country estate, populated with familiars, where he has invited a young biographer to hear his story. This biographer, however, has a secret mission that only reveals itself gradually. The setup sounds implausible, but Legagneur is just egotistical enough to be seduced by the flattery of a biographer's attention, and just manipulative enough to welcome an extra puppet into his theatre, even if he suspects the ruse.

Robin Renucci, as the fake writer Roland Wolf, brings youthful brashness and self-assurance to the role, making him a worthy opponent in this quiet battle of wits. Other notables include Bernadette Lafont, gleefully hamming it up as the voluptuous tarotist-in-residence Patricia, and Anne Brochet as Catherine, Legagneur's ailing god-daughter.

It's tempting to think of Chabrol as a New Wave pioneer who drifted into less promising genre territory. But dig deeper, and you find a filmmaker with a remarkably acute grasp of the upper middle classes - particularly the collusive, self-perpetuating nature of class power. Legagneur is no rogue individualist. He gregariously surrounds himself with like-minded confederates who share in the spoils. To put it more simply: the rich don't rock the boat - they eat veal cutlets on the boat and sip fine wine.

Legagneur laughs easily, with his inner circle and at society. He is a law unto himself, creating a hermetically sealed, ideologically baroque world of his own. This is captured in a memorable image: he sleeps beneath an Arcadian tableau, recessed into ornate panelling - the physical manifestation of his dreams. We glimpse the structure he inhabits whether awake or asleep: a world entirely of his own invention and control. He is a dreamer wide awake. Or, to put it plainly: a powerful fantasist. Years before the world came to understand the true nature of TV host Jimmy Savile, Chabrol had already drawn the silhouette.

The 1980s were a relatively fallow period for Chabrol, but Masks - this opiated flower from an unmapped canyon of dreams - stands out.

This Claude Chabrol film is notable for being the occasion of the film debut of 21 year-old Anne Brochet. She does an absolutely brilliant job, but that was but a prelude to her magnificent performance in the later TOUS LES MATINS DU MONDE (ALL THE MORNINGS OF THE WORLD, 1991), where she was unforgettable as the daughter of Saint-Colombe, the viola da gamba composer. The word brochet means 'pike' in English, so that if she were English or American, she would be Anne Pike. I cannot resist pointing out that my mother's best friend at school was named Annie Pike. A pike is a very large fresh-water fish, for those who are unacquainted with such matters. I wonder how Anne Brochet would get on with the British actress Rosamund Pike. They are opposite types, but equally inspired. It seems to me that in an ideal world, all pikes should swim together as friends, but then a pike can be a ferocious fish which not only eats up all the small fish, but will fight great battles against rival pikes. However, back to the film. This film features a powerful tour de force performance by Philippe Noiret, but I do feel that he went slightly over the top and that Chabrol might have held him back just a bit. Nevertheless, as an egotistical and exhibitionist television game show presenter on French television, the character was meant to be well over the top, so maybe it was OK to emote with such force. The film is about a writer (played excellently by Robin Renucci, who specialises in bemused and quizzical looks) who pretends to write a biography of Noiret, whereas he is really interested in investigating the disappearance of his sister Nathalie, as she had been living in Noiret's large house and then vanished suddenly. The story is very hackneyed in that something like it has been made into a film so many times, especially in Britain, and the basic tale goes back to the Victorian 'Uncle Silas'. Noiret is the guardian of pale, innocent and waiflike Brochet, her parents having died in a car crash when she was 5. (Noiret may even have caused that.) She is very rich, or was, before he systematically began stealing all her money. Soon she will 'come into her majority', i.e. be 21, so things are reaching a climax and he is feeding her poison slowly. She is thus the imprisoned victim who is being killed off by her ruthless guardian. Brochet had been close to Nathalie. Renucci and she become close, and Renucci discovers what the dastardly Noiret is really up to and the struggle is on to save Brochet from being murdered, and Renucci from being killed as well. Will evil win? Trust Claude Chabrol to know.

At a time when skeletons were being found in the cupboards of a number of well-known celebrities in France, Chabrol created this film which asks the simple question: what lies beneath the mask of an apparently pleasant and sugar-sweet public figure? Can such a person be utterly wicked, capable of fraud, deceit - even murder - and get away with all that unnoticed? How far can the public image and the private reality differ?

For the subject of his analysis, Chabrol could hardly have chosen a better actor than Philippe Noiret. In his role, Noiret is so successful that it is virtually impossible to believe that his character could harm a fly - until the truly disturbing scene when his daughter shows him a bird in a cage, triggering a phobic reaction that causes the mask to slip - albeit for just a moment. After that, the mask stays firmly in place, until the last possible moment. But when the mask does fall, as it has to, and Legagneur turns on his television viewers, we see the truth in an instant and ask ourselves: how could we have been so blind? More disturbingly, we begin to question - as Chabrol intended we should - whether any real-life TV presenters have similar dark secrets.

Whilst not quite in the league of some of Chabrol's other thrillers (most notably the superb La Cérémonie), Masques is a film which does have some gripping moments and some sparkling dialogue. The ending is as funny as it is tragic, and, as a thought-provoker, it achieves its objective a little too successfully. I for one will never be able to watch a silver-tongued TV presenter again without thinking: what lies behind this mask?

precise option for cast. not original policier. but the unique art of characters definition. and a nice story. the vulnerability of Anne Brochet, new version of Audrey Hepburn, the charm of Philippe Niret, the flavor of mysteries old tales are pieces of a very interesting mechanism. nothing surprising, nothing complicated, only visual crime novel created in the limits of classic rules. image of each character - little jewel in Chabrol style, delicate intrigue and the precious details are elements of fine clock. and inspired ingredient for atmosphere. an old fashion movie and little more. maybe, a delight or just provocation for public.that is all.

The eighties were not that much a great time for Claude Chabrol.Most of the works of this era ,either have not worn very well (les fantômes du chapelier,poulet au vinaigre) or were not themes for him anyway (le cheval d'orgueil,Patricia Highsmith's "le cri du hibou")

"Masques " is probably his best since "Violette Nozières" (1978) and nearly matches the brilliance of the late sixties/early seventies heyday.

Completely unpretentious,it's full of humor,suspense and of course gastronomy (is there a Chabrol movie where they do not eat?).A marvelous spoof on these numerous TV shows which take dumbness to new limits, a detective story,this movie is much fun to watch.

Philippe Noiret,overplaying as hell -and he's thoroughly enjoyable-,plays the emcee of a broadcast for old people who sing songs of long ago,("les roses blanches" ,the most maudlin song of the whole French repertoire,crooned by an old man, can be heard on the cast and credits).By no means a caricature, because, we've seen worse on French TV.

And to crown it all,the host uses "HItchcock presents " music to enhance his horrible show.And that's not all!Philippe Noiret's character is Mister LEGAGNEUR (GO-GETTER)

The emcee is so full of himself he asks a young novelist (Renucci) to write his biography.They are to work in the country in Legagneur's desirable property,complete with court and chef .A delightful gallery of weirdoes hangs around:A couple,Roger Dumas ,a wine connaisseur, and Bernadette Laffont,who enjoys reading someone's cards and less commendable things -to think that Laffont was featured in Chabrol's very first ,"le beau Serge" ,in 1958!-;a deaf and dumb chauffeur;two strange servants, one of them relishes with Charlotte Armstrong's detective stories-like Chabrol ,who adapted this writer twice :"la rupture" (1970)and "merci pour le chocolat" (2000)-;and,last but not least,a strange girl (Brochet), Legagneur's goddaughter(sic).She seems very sick,or maybe someone helps her to be sick?

Actually nothing is what it seems .Everybody hides himself behind his mask,including the director ,who puts on his Chabrol mask this time.