L'Ivresse du pouvoir
**/**** Image A- Sound A- Extras A-
starring Isabelle Huppert, François Berléand, Patrick Bruel, Robin Renucci
screenplay by Odile Barski and Claude Chabrol
directed by Claude Chabrol
by Travis Mackenzie Hoover Things were going great. Two Claude Chabrols (The Bridesmaid and Violette Nozière) had made their way into my FFC goodie bag, both of them entirely worthy entries in his oeuvre. Maybe they aren't masterpieces, but they're nonetheless solid pieces of filmmaking that don't disappoint. So when Comedy of Power (L'Ivresse du pouvoir) arrived on my doorstep, I clasped it to my chest just knowing that the third time's a charm. Alas, no. Turns out the movie is the most routine Chabrol I can remember: smug, lacking in ambiguity, and possessed of some of the feeblest writing in the director's career. It's an obvious movie by the master of misdirection, a blunt knee to the groin by someone you can usually count on to go for the throat. Even as satire, it's nothing you couldn't get any day from Jon Stewart (with twice the panache and funny to boot).
Comedy of Power trains its eye on corporate malfeasance. Based loosely on the Elf affair (a massive corruption scheme that siphoned off 350 million euros of state-owned company funds), it centres on Judge Jeanne Charmant-Killman (Isabelle Huppert) and her efforts to clean up a similar scandal. Starting with skin-diseased piker Humeau (François Berléand), she works her way up the ladder spouting witticisms and gunning for well-connected bigwig Sibaud (Patrick Bruel). Taunting her gently the whole way, Sibaud proves quite elusive, but that's the least of her worries, what with brakes getting cut and offices being vandalized. At home, she's saddled with sad-sack husband Philippe (Robin Renucci) and ne'er-do-well nephew Felix (Thomas Chabrol)–and it's strongly hinted that hubby can't take the strain and threat of a loveless marriage and possible attack by thugs, respectively. But who concerns themselves with such trivialities when there's well-moneyed scum to catch?
As it turns out, me. The problem with this movie is that it's absolutely sure of its moral imperatives: though Philippe is given to chiding his wife when it becomes necessary to hire bodyguards, his obvious depression is less reflective on Jeanne than a plot point to be exploited in the final reel. The main order of the day is to point out the not-exactly-bulletin-worthy news that rich sleazebags run corporate France, have friends in high places, and will do skeezy things in order to elude capture. That's it–you learn nothing from Comedy of Power if you possess the most rudimentary knowledge of the Elf case (which a French audience doubtless would) and are offered merely the fun you may have from watching evil suits sweat it out in the hot seat. It's so self-righteous, though, that you never feel that pleasure as the fish in the barrel are riddled with bullets.
The worst thing about the film is that what you see is what you get. Jeanne's family life provides the barest sense that things are not what they seem; I feared it would be used against her as a sign she should've stayed home, but even that would be better than the nothing to which it adds up. Beyond that, she's a take-no-prisoners gal who spouts action-movie one-liners ("Should we sweep this under the rug?" "No. I hate rugs") and is utterly unwavering as a point of identification. Good Chabrol usually revolves around the notion that one could simultaneously empathize with and condemn another person; Comedy of Power has a cartoon hero pursuing cartoon villains where very little is ultimately at stake. Had the director focused on the crime in progress and perhaps implicated us in its inner workings, the movie might've had a reason to exist. Without Chabrol's usual cocktail of mixed emotions and moral complexities, there's nothing to distinguish this misfire from scores of mediocre message movies.
THE DVD
Comedy of Power at least provides something of a reprieve for DVD distributor Koch Lorber after bungling the release of Violette Nozière so spectacularly. Granted, that film's twenty years older, but the 1.86:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer is exceptional besides, with the largely white/grey/beige palette coming on strong and only a slight dimness bringing the image rating down. The Dolby 2.0 stereo sound is also very good, its deep tones and dimensions more than one would expect from a simple left-right configuration. As for extras, a making-of doc (30 mins.) is surprisingly on point: not only do the director and stars speak of matters creative, but the rest of the personnel mention their contributions in a manner that is thorough as well, refusing the gush to which these things normally resort. Still, at one point Chabrol is applauded for making "an anarchist tract" (gimme a break), suggesting that all is not well in la republique. The film's trailer plus trailers for Le Petit lieutenant, Natalie…, Gilles' Wife, Changing Times, La Belle captive, and The Syrian Bride complete the platter.
110 minutes; NR; 1.85:1 (16×9-enhanced); French DD 2.0 (Stereo); English (optional) subtitles; DVD-9; Region One; Koch Lorber
