A French courtroom tango in “The Crime is Mine”
Filmmakers know that the courtroom is a hell of a place to put on a show — and this year, French movies like “Anatomy of a Fall” and “Saint Omer” have put women on trial to dramatize, not so much their crimes, but the gendered biases that make them look criminal.
“The Crime is Mine,” a snappy showbiz screwball, takes this feminist conceit and adds stardust and firecrackers to the mix. Directed by François Ozon — a French director known for his winking subversions of genre — the film puts a twist on the trope of the spotlight- seeking murderess: the women in the film want us to know they did it.
Freely adapted from a 1934 play by Georges Berr and Louis Verneuil and set in a vintage Paris, the film revolves around roommates Madeleine ( Nadia Terezkiewicz) and Pauline ( Rebecca Marder), two dead- broke ingénues angling for a break.
In the opening scene, Madeleine, a blonde bombshell who dreams of her name in lights, comes home distraught after a slimy theater producer Montferrand (Jean- Christophe Bouvet) attempts to rape her. And Madeleine’s beau, a Buster Keaton look- alike, announces his plans to marry a wealthy heiress and keep Madeleine as his mistress. Hours later, the cops swing by — Montferrand is dead and the revolver on Madeleine’s dresser looks awfully fishy.
The lof ty investigating magistrate ( Fabrice Luchini, marvelously ludicrous) thinks he’s got it figured out: Lowlife bohemian that she is, Madeleine must have killed Montferrand after he rejected her bid for a part. Pauline, a bi- curious attorney, steps in: no, no, it was actually self- defense.
Several versions of what might have happened are shown in grainy black-andwhite, like reels in a silent film.
Ultimately, the truth is what plays best before a crowd. In court, aided by a script written by Pauline, Madeleine performs the part of the feminist hero to roaring applause, front-page glory and job offers for the juiciest parts.
Odette Chaumette ( Isabelle Huppert), a once-famous silent film star with a Norma- Desmond- size chip on her shoulder (and a showy persona to match), appears, demanding a cut of the spoils. The alwaysmagnetic Huppert has played her share of tabloid murderesses, but, here, she trades out her trademark visceral steeliness for a coy and irreverent narcissism. The threat she poses to Madeleine and Pauline’s hard-won fortune carries the film’s even cheekier second act.
“The Crime is Mine” is the epitome of a comfort film, decked out in old-hollywood nostalgia and unfolding at an auctioneer’s clip. Its fun and games are deceptively smart — all the more because the women know their angles so triumphantly well.