Some of the most scathing cinematic critiques of the bourgeoisie and the social order it dominated were created in the years after the student uprisings of 1968. They did not always take the form of explicitly political films, and one good example is Claude Chabrol‘s 1970 film ‘La rupture‘ (‘The Breach‘ in the English distribution). On the surface, we are dealing with a plot almost like some of the films made by Hitchcock two or three decades earlier about an apparently normative family and a woman who faces alone the hostility of the environment around her. However, underneath this story (inspired by an English novel) there is a much stronger psychological tension and a drama that at times borders on tragedy. What begins as an homage to Hitchcock ends up being a further reverence for another of Chabrol‘s cinematic masters – Fritz Lang. All sprinkled with quotes from the films of the two (a cameo appearance by the director or a balloon seller with a symbolic role). If we were to look for an alternative name for this film, it could be ‘The Indiscreet Wickedness of the Bourgeoisie’.
‘La rupture‘ begins with a shocking scene of domestic violence. Hélène and Charles’ marriage is no longer working. Perhaps it was not destined to work from the beginning. He comes from a very wealthy family, has aspirations to be a writer but does not seem to have published anything yet. In addition, he takes drugs and is violent. The one who suffers is their little boy who ends up in the hospital after his father has a fit of rage. Charles’ parents and especially his father – a manipulative businessman – never agreed to the marriage and are now taking advantage of the marital crisis to force a divorce in which Hélène will be found guilty. To do this, they hire the services of a rather dubious guy, ready to do anything for money, with the mission of compromising the woman. It is not easy, because Hélène, despite her modest and somewhat disadvantageous social origin (she is a former nude dancer) is a woman of impeccable morality, ready to make any sacrifice for her child and who even retains affection for her violent husband. The conspirators will devise a plan ‘like in the movies’ to achieve their goals.
Chabrol‘s filming style in ‘La rupture‘ is ‘slow-burner’. The story develops slowly, the situations and characters are carefully constructed. However, these are not ordinary situations, many of the characters are colorful and eccentric, and when we are dealing with an apparently banal character (for example, a hospital physician who seems to fall in love with Hélène) we can suspect that the intention is parody. Stéphane Audran (Chabrol‘s wife at the time) creates one of her best roles here. Jean-Pierre Cassel gives life to the evil schemer who tries to compromise the heroine and proves that he had at least as much talent and charisma as his famous and contemporary to us son. Michel Bouquet perfectly plays the kind of role that made him famous – an evil big bourgeois. Around them and especially in the guest house across from the hospital where the injured child is hospitalized, where much of the story takes place, a gallery of picturesque characters revolves, including three old women who play tarot cards about whom I would write that they are stolen from the Coen brothers’ films, if I didn’t know that the brothers would only debut in about 14 years. I also liked Pierre Jansen‘s music that accompanies the visual part with dramatic and expressive counterpoint. The ending slips into oneirism and I won’t say more so as not to spoil the pleasure of a viewing or re-viewing that I recommend.