
CinemaSerf
7
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Aug 09, 2025
That fact that I could listen to the “Ebben? Ne andrò lontana” aria from “La Wally” all day helps gets this off to a cracking start, and then we have a young fan in the form of moped postie “Jules” (Frédéric Andréi) - a lad with a distinctly Jean-Pierre Aumont look to him, who manages to make a sneaky recording. Why sneaky? Well that’s because the singer, “Cynthia Hawkins” (Wilhelmina Fernandez) hates recordings and so has never made a record. The star-struck “Jules” goes backstage after the performance for an autograph, has a quick chat with her before managing to steal her silk gown and heading back to his apartment in a derelict old garage. Here he has some state of the art audio equipment that powerfully reproduces the beauty of her singing. What he doesn’t know, though, is that an altercation we saw earlier on the streets has resulted in a murder and the perpetrators are all part of a white slavery business trading from North Africa. It seems the victim had made a cassette identifying the ring-leader and she plonked this in his mail pouch. Now we have two tales, and that helps sow seeds of confusion as the plot expands and he finds himself in quite a bit of peril. First off, there are these corrupt cops trying to get the confession back. Second off, there are some dodgy Oriental businessmen who want hold of his illicit concert reel so they can make a fortune. When he takes that one to the opera-loving friend of his hooker pal “Alba” (An Luu), he only manages to involve the fastidious “Gorodish” (Richard Bohringer) as we discover whom the true kingpin is and that his henchmen are truly evil. What plays out now is part comedy, part thriller and I thought Andréi held it together really quite well as it entertainingly trod a line between the mischievous, the serious, the musical and the menacing. Bohringer has precious few lines, but his character and his big-eyed Citröen 11 become more and more crucial as our young protagonist tries to stay one step ahead of the “spic” with the pick. We don’t see quite enough of Fernandez, with whom our young pal gradually starts to bond, but she does manage to exude something of the loneliness of her transient, if highly successful, profession and she also provided a glorious soundtrack now and again. I don’t know that I’ve seen an operatic scenario used quite like this for a crime drama before! The last fifteen minutes provide quite a feat of reconciliation amidst the dingy settings and there’s even a tiny bit of affection as the threads come together. Not sure I’d want to share a mattress with a guy in a motorcycle helmet, though!