Monsieur Hire is the sort of film that makes you feel grubby just by watching it. Patrice Leconte takes what could have been a straightforward thriller and turns it into something sadder, stranger, and more uncomfortable: a story about loneliness, desire, and the way other people can decide who you are long before the facts turn up. It’s coolly made, but never cold.
Michel Blanc is superb. He gives Hire a watchful, brittle sadness that keeps shifting under your feet. You don’t exactly warm to him, but you understand him just enough for the film to get under your skin. Sandrine Bonnaire is equally good, turning what could have been a simple object of obsession into something far more elusive and dangerous.
What lingers is the cruelty of it all. Not just the plot mechanics, but the sheer nastiness of suspicion, gossip, and projection. A lean, nasty little heartbreaker of a film
I rented this film because it gets RAVE reviews. It is probably the stupidest and most ridiculous film i have seen in a decade. A bit of Rear Window and Atlantic City voyeurism mixed with Polanski weirdness, eg the Tenant: based on a Simenon novel, an author who uses psychological disintegration as the narrative force because he hasnt got the imagination to do anything else. Even the twist, in what is a horrible mixture of thriller and romance, is obvious from half way through. It could only be made in France and should have remained there.
This melancholy neo-noir is adapted from a story by Georges Simenon already made as Panique by Julien Duvivier in 1946. This time the scope of the murder investigation is considerably reduced to concentrate on the unconventional love triangle which was difficult to explore back then because of censorship; even in France.
The title character is a prime role for a male actor of a certain age who isn't blessed with film star looks. Michel Blanc plays the brainy, irascible voyeur who spies on his beautiful neighbour (Sandrine Bonnaire) and so is aware that her lover (Luc Thuillier) is the murderer of a young woman; a crime for which Hire himself is suspected.
Plus he's a weird outsider who is persecuted by his community. For Duvivier this was an opportunity to reflect on wartime collaboration and antisemitism. But Patrice Leconte almost entirely excises the social context other than a few hints the neighbours may have legitimate concerns. This is about the psycho-sexual mind games.
There are deep, subtle performances from Blanc and Bonnaire as the lonely souls engaged in contrasting manoeuvres for control of the other. Probably the new ending betrays Simenon's intentions, and it's slow, even if short. But this is the sort of mature, moody, intelligent arthouse that Brits usually go to French cinema to experience.