Inspector Bellamy (2009)

For better or worse, Inspector Bellamy is more of a character study than a murder mystery. Early on a gentleman actually confesses to the crime, so the procedural part of the film really takes a back seat - to the point where you really don't care who done it or why. Gerard Depardieu plays the main character and does an adequate job - similar to David Suchet playing Poirot - full of little mannerisms and a certain gleam in his eye as he pieces together the, frankly, not very interesting case. What is certainly more interesting is Bellamy's relationship with his wife and younger brother, though even there the film teeters on the brink of melodrama, especially concerning the brother. I dunno, maybe because I was reading subtitles, but the film never grabbed me. There were some nice moments between Bellamy and his wife, played out with a slowness and grace born of life experience - but then the script throws in some goofy histrionics that make you shake your head and wonder WTF? Case in point is a scene where Inspector and wife are walking along an avenue discussing not much of anything, when the Inspector stops to make some point or other, and then almost walks into an open manhole, only to be saved at the last minute by wifey. He then shakely tells her that he has always been the lucky one, and that he was lucky to have landed her.... Ok, but throughout the film she keeps reminding him that she wants to go on a cruise - and he keeps refusing her. If he is indeed so lucky to have her, then granting her wish would be a surefire show of his love. But Noooooooo. I suppose that's the point of it all - showing a couple who are as comfortable with each other as an old pair of shoes, and indeed there is a bit of overall subletly in the message, which for me collides with the type of clumsly set up mentioned above. The obvious sybolism here is that, except for the Inspector getting lucky and finding a woman who not only loves him, but understands him, he might have indeed fallen down that manhole and into the same sewer of life that his brother wallows in. Again, I compare to Poirot on Masterpiece Mystery - not the greatest stuff in the world, but a guilty pleasure - I wish I could say the same here as it was the last work of legendary writer/director Claude Charbrol. He makes ze leetle film, but really, there's no point or revelation in what he is "saying" in the film, in spite of the earnest filming.