Le Cri du hibou

Patricia Highsmith created one fascinating character in her novel: Nickie, the ex-wife of Robert Forester, here called Veronique. Virginie Thevenet plays her and she is terrific. Seductive, lying, violent and completely fascinating, she is the one thing in the movie that really works. Malavoy acts like a Boy Scout troop leader, May is dull and lifeless and Kalfon is hard to believe as a detective. Only Penot as the beefy handsome coward Soulages manages to rise to Thevenet's level. Chabrol was known for his cold, passionless thrillers; you went to them out of a sense of duty. Wasn't he after all one of the founding members of the New Wave? See it if it turns up on late night TV, and there's nothing else to watch.

After divorcing his easy wife Véronique (Virginie Thévenet), the designer Robert (Christophe Malavoy) moves from Paris to Vichy. Depressed, he walks for three months to the lawn of the gorgeous Juliette Voland (Mathilda May) during the night to see her cooking. One night, her fiancé Patrick Soulage (Jacques Penot) has traveled, and Juliette meets Robert at the lawn and invites him to drink a coffee with her in her house. Robert visits her again and Juliette has a crush on him. She confides him that she is afraid of death since her brother died when he was eight years old. She dumps Patrick and stalks Robert, and Patrick believes they have a love affair. One night, Patrick forces Robert to stop the car on the road and they fight. Robert leaves the beaten Patrick near the river margin. On the next morning, Patrick disappears, and Robert goes with Juliette to the police to report what happened. But soon Veronique decides to play tricks and gives false information to the incompetent chief of police of Vichy. Soon the personal and professional life of Robert is affected by the accusations of murder, affecting also the life of Juliette that questions whether Robert is guilty.

"Le cri du hibou", a.k.a. "The Cry of the Owl" (1987), is a movie by Claude Chabrol with strange characters in an absurd story. Robert is a shy and weirdo, who meets the gorgeous Juliette without any interest in sex. His attitudes are strange, and he looks like a suspect without any guilt. Juliette is naive and stalks him even when the man says that is not interested on her. Patrick is a sick man, and what he does to Robert is inadmissible. The police of Vichy and the chief of police are incompetent. Véronique is a bit*ch, and in the conclusion, she loses the wealthy Marcello, who is a coward, and has the end she deserves. Suzie is another disgusting character. The usual open end this time does not work. My vote is six.

Title (Brazil): "O Grito da Coruja" ("The Cry of the Owl")

Patricia Highsmith's "cry of the owl" was not her best or even among her best;we are far from triumphs such as "the talented Mister Ripley" "Ripley's game " or "strangers on a train".But it was an interesting psychological study,focusing on a man who thought that, whatever he might do ,he was bound to fall and he would even bring bad luck to his human pals.Like a lot of HIghsmith 's characters ,he was a neurotic,who could not fit in the "normal world" ,with a heavy guilt feeling and a touch of masochism.Chabrol's screenplay is very faithful to the novel,keeping even the last line,but it's a good example of how accuracy leads to failure.

The choice of Christophe Malavoy was excellent because the actor is subtle enough to convey such a despair .But Chabrol put him against a gallery of weirdos who would drive any man insane:a brunette whose behavior is completely implausible,played an unconvincing actress,Mathilda May;a vulgar unattractive wife -Ah Stephane Audran where are you ?- ;a brute of a fiancé who seems even more irrational than the hero,it's the last straw!On the paper the hero's thoughts and frames of mind made up for the implausibilities of the plot and built an atmosphere of ambiguity ,an ambiguity which is almost totally absent in the film,in spite of Malavoy's commendable efforts.To top it all,there's an irritating part of a cop (Kalfon) ,a la Colombo,gobbling up madeleines ,and hinting at Marcel Proust as he tries to remind his unusual suspect of what he may have done.

Because,like in a lot of Chabrol movies,people eat in in "le cri du hibou".The hero and his lady friend treat themselves to some delicious crêpes suzette (flambées) and cassolettes of langoustines:the neurotic is also a gourmet !And he does love the girl's home-made cookies!

Doing two movies a year,Chabrol makes frequently spotty works:such was the case of "le cri du hibou" , deservedly forgotten work,whereas the contemporary "masques " -released at the beginning of the same year- was a brilliant film noir turned almost farce.

M. Chabrol has done a strong, creditable job of transferring the powerfully discomforting world of Patricia Highsmith to the screen. Highsmith's characters become moral monsters through a condition of absolute confidence in their own warped psyches. These characters never learn, or understand themselves. Their lies to each other are absolute because they lie to themselves absolutely. No cliché goes unpunished. Characters become moral monsters without losing their sense of rightness. They seem powerless not to act in self-destructive ways.

The film is not equal to "Strangers on a Train" or "Purple Noon," other adaptations of Highsmith's work. But it is faithful in spirit to a novel which is itself not equal to the literary sources of these films. See it with an open mind and revel in the creepiness. Chabrol is a sufficiently great artist to allow another great artist her night cry.

A film described as being "in the Hitchcock tradition" usually means "a cheap imitation", and this French import is no exception. Director Claude Chabrol tries hard to invoke the spirit of the Master by adapting his screenplay from a story by Patricia Highsmith (author of 'Strangers on a Train') about a divorced artist with a fixation about birds (sound familiar?), whose voyeuristic attraction to the unhappily marries Mathilda May leads to a perfectly innocent, platonic friendship between two manic-depressive people. The plot kicks into gear after May's jealous husband disappears; birdman Christophe Malavoy is then accused of foul play, and the film goes to pieces in a hurry, collapsing into a random sampling of routine plot twists before ending in an unfair, inconclusive freeze-frame. It might have been an entertaining whodunit, but unlike his mentor Chabrol takes his scenario far too seriously: you only have to imagine the actors speaking their dialogue in English straight from the subtitles to realize how silly it really is. The film was made in 1987 but until 1991 was never released on this side of the Atlantic, and for good reason.