Lacombe Lucien (1974, Louis Malle) (Patreon)

43/100

Second viewing, last seen 1997. I recall hating it then, whereas now I just find its singleminded awfulness pointlessly unpleasant—Lucien's presented as a joyless sadist literally from the opening scene, in which he kills a sparrow with his slingshot just for "fun," and Malle subsequently reveals that aberrant personality to be the sort who'd join the French Gestapo and opportunistically terrorize any Jewish families he might encounter, which doesn't exactly qualify as insightful or illuminating. (If anything, it falsely suggests that only budding sociopaths turned collaborator.) Contemporaneous reviews indicate that reminding French audiences of the Carlingue's existence was a provocation in itself; as an American with no vested interest in keeping shameful aspects of a foreign occupation under the rug where they'd been swept, however, I'm not inclined to applaud the movie simply for being painfully truthful. In theory, Lucien's attraction to France offers some much-needed psychological complexity; in practice, you will note that I am now obliged to tell confused readers who've never seen this film that France is the symbolically freighted name of a Jewish tailor's daughter. Didn't love that self-consciously grandiose nationalistic-embodiment conceit when Bruno Dumont recently made it the bedrock of an entire movie, and this historical context renders it kinda gross...especially when France, toward the end, starts to look as if she may genuinely return Lucien's feelings (to whatever limited extent he actually experiences tender emotion), as opposed to taking advantage of him by feigning reciprocation. I'll grant that Malle's aiming at something with the bizarre, superficially incoherent succession of scenes that make up the last few minutes—first she's playful, then she's on the verge of bashing his head in with a rock, then she's desperately looking for him, then they're staring each other down while she bathes in a stream, then we get text telling us that Lucien was later captured and executed—but I'm damned if I have the foggiest idea what that something might be. Bottom line: I just don’t find Lucien Lacombe at all interesting in his casual callousness, and resent having to spend more than two hours in his loathsome company. And I "like" (scare quotes very necessary) Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer. 

ANAL-RETENTIVE TITLE CORNER: I'd had this logged as Lacombe, Lucien since 1997, perhaps based on the program notes at whichever NYC rep house screened it. There's no comma onscreen, however, and since both names are on the same horizontal plane, I can't even argue for an implied comma. It just looks better to me that way, because Americans always use a comma when going surname first. (Also, we hear Lucien introduce himself as "Lacombe Lucien" more than once, so that's evidently common in French; Americans almost always start with the given name, and when we don't, we repeat the surname at the end, "Bond. James Bond" style. I would never say, in response to "What's your name?", "D'Angelo Mike," but I might say "D'Angelo. Mike D'Angelo.") Anyway, there's no comma between Lacombe and Lucien, so I've deleted it.