With a Benoît Magimel in a state of grace, the new film of the Catalan director is a magnificent paranoid thriller against a background of politics fiction.
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A hard -skinned snapshot would like cinema only to tell stories. It may also be that he is there so as not to tell them, but to turn around and leave the spectator to smell that something ladle is going to the screen. It is in this vague area between fiction and its reverse that the last and extraordinary feature film of Catalan dandy Albert Serra (the death of Louis XIV, Liberté), this high path, class and impudent, promoted, promoted, For the first time in competition. It must be said that the film, ample from its hundred and sixty-three minutes, has something to create the Berlue by its alloy of unexpected ingredients: the star Benoît Magimel, dive in the middle of the Pacific, in French Polynesia, in an obscure soup of “Political thriller” which could well have only the name.
In Tahiti, a man named rollerblading (Magimel in a state of grace) walks in cream costume, colorful shirts and Curaça blue smoked glasses, tightening the pognes, collecting the grievances, working on the right, on the left his quiet interpersonal skills. He could be a mafia chief or a nightclub pattern, but the function he occupies is no longer official: that of the High Commissioner of the Republic, representing the French State in the community. Here and there, between private establishments and public fairs, he acts of presence, feels the pulse and plays, as he can, the reassuring mediators.