Elle – first look review | Little White Lies

Festivals

Elle – first look review

21 May 2016

Black cat and woman looking thoughtfully into each other's eyes in dim lighting.
Black cat and woman looking thoughtfully into each other's eyes in dim lighting.
Isabelle Hup­pert deliv­ers a stun­ning, unflinch­ing per­for­mance in this black­ly com­ic rape-revenge thriller.

Paul Ver­ho­even exam­ines con­tro­ver­sial sub­ject mat­ter with this juicy and com­plex char­ac­ter study of a smart busi­ness­woman who is sex­u­al­ly assault­ed in her home. The direc­tor takes his time in build­ing mys­tery and intrigue sur­round­ing Michèle’s (Isabelle Hup­pert) trag­ic, vio­lent past and approach­es her ques­tion­able actions with a glee­ful­ly per­verse sense of humour.

The film opens on com­plete black­ness. We hear only crash­ing sounds and Michèle’s screams as she is raped by a masked intrud­er. On his depar­ture, Michèle bins her dress, takes a long hot bath, orders sushi and awaits the arrival of her grown-up and mild­ly incom­pe­tent son, Vin­cent (Jonas Blo­quet). She lies about her assault and car­ries on regardless.

Ver­ho­even returns to this bru­tal event sev­er­al times through­out the film and as we enter fur­ther into Michèle’s mind the pic­ture becomes clear­er. But we also wit­ness her fan­ta­sy of tak­ing revenge on her assailant. These ini­tial scenes are shock­ing and infused with a chill­ing grim­ness. The humour only seeps in when Michèle is in charge. She refus­es to become a vic­tim or report the crime, part­ly owing to her dis­en­fran­chise­ment with the police. Instead she takes mat­ters into her own hands with a can of pep­per spray and a minia­ture axe.

At the cen­tre of this sala­cious thriller, which is loose­ly based on the nov­el by French writer Philippe Dijan, is the indomitable Isabelle Hup­pert, who deliv­ers glo­ri­ous glances of utter con­tempt in a bold and unflinch­ing per­for­mance. She runs a com­put­er game com­pa­ny with her best friend, Anna (Anne Con­signy), whose hus­band she is hav­ing an affair with. Her strange behav­iour doesn’t end there.

She flirts with her Catholic next door neigh­bour, Patrick (Lau­rent Lafitte), and con­tin­ues to keep ex-hus­band Richard (Charles Berling) close despite the fact that he hit her. She also has a dif­fi­cult pro­fes­sion­al rela­tion­ship with tal­ent­ed games pro­gram­mer Kurt (Lucas Pris­or), whose arro­gant atti­tude in the work place she con­fronts. As we are intro­duced to the men in Michèle’s life the sus­pects are lined up for the view­er to judge.

Ver­ho­even homes in on the tense inter­ac­tions between Michèle and her fam­i­ly and friends. She’s cru­el to her moth­er, whom she holds account­able for her father’s abhor­rent deeds. Her deter­mi­na­tion to hold the pow­er in all sit­u­a­tions bleeds in to her con­fronta­tion­al reac­tion to her assault. At one point she breaks the upset­ting news to her friends over a posh din­ner, absolute­ly res­olute in the fact that she should not be ashamed of her hor­ri­ble encounter.

Michèle does not adhere to polite social eti­quette, instead brazen­ly and some­times cheek­i­ly chal­leng­ing it. Set in the run up to Christ­mas, DP Stéphane Fontaine (Jacques Audiard’s long-time col­lab­o­ra­tor) expert­ly utilis­es the twin­kle of fairy lights and the glow of nativ­i­ty scenes to con­ceal a nasty under­bel­ly of activ­i­ty. It’s all utter­ly absorb­ing to behold.

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