The Crime Is Mine

They say that history progresses in cycles, and Europe in the 2020s has much in common, socially and politically, with the 1930s. On the one hand, there have been striking advances in the rights of women and sexual minorities, the arts are thriving and everyone seems dazzled by celebrity culture. On the other, fascist movements are growing in strength and it is widely known that there is a culture of abuse and exploitation in the arts and elsewhere, with efforts to stamp it out making limited progress. Georges Berr and Louis Verneuil’s stage play Mon Crime captured all of this back in 1934. Ninety years later, who better to adapt it for the silver screen than François Ozon, who builds upon the high camp style of his sensational 8 Women to present it as a sugary delight with a delightfully bitter aftertaste.

Nadia Tereszkiewicz is Madeleine, a glamorous young actress who has looks, style and panache but, alas, no money and only a modicum of talent. To make things worse for her, it is made clear that opportunity comes at a price. When a famous producer attempts to rape her and is subsequently found dead, she is accused of murder. But where she sees only the prospect of ruin, her friend Pauline (Rebecca Marder) sees an opportunity. An up-and-coming lawyer, she represents Madeleine in court, turning the trial into a public sensation focused on the awful treatment of vulnerable young women by obnoxious men, and the actress suddenly finds herself achieving a level of fame she could only have dreamed of, placing her in high demand. There’s just one problem: somebody out there knows what really happened to the producer.

Playing out a #MeToo style story as a farce may not go down well with everyone, but as always with Ozon’s work, there is a shrewd intelligence behind it, together with a deep appreciation of women’s ability to survive and triumph in the worst of circumstances. These women may be manipulators, but they are still, for the most part, in the right, and they still have the odds stacked against them. Pauline’s skill lies in her ability to address complex injustices by presenting the public with the simplistic narratives it craves. Fame brings out the worst in Madeleine, but at her least likeable she is often at her most enjoyable. There is a subplot concerning her on-again off-again relationship with a factory owner’s son (Édouard Sulpice), and yet, as fans of the director’s work might have anticipated, the real erotic chemistry is between her and Pauline.

The whole thing is sumptuously dressed, from the gorgeous movie star gowns to the indulgent décor on the stage-like sets, where the actors weave around one another as they did in the dramas of the era, when the spatial possibilities of cinema were yet to be fully explored. Hair is styled and make-up applied with ferocious intent. Emotions may run high, but the dialogue is sharp and one would never want to risk underestimating these women. Even when the story takes a darker turn, the humour remains, and the astute social commentary underlying it never risks making this a dull affair.

Keeping up with The Crime Is Mine requires a certain amount of energy, and some viewers may feel worn out before they reach the end, but it’s worth holding on that little bit longer because the twists keep coming. If you can make it through the first 15 minutes, you’ll be in high spirits by the end.