September | 2024 | First Impressions

Duvivier’s last film, unfavourably reviewed upon release and a rare box-office failure for Delon in this period. Today, it is disadvantageously compared to Julio Medem’s The Red Squirrel, rightly so, but I rather liked it. It’s a psychological thriller with Gothic elements but with Delon as the damsel in distress.

Alain Delon has a terrible accident, loses his memory, but finds himself with a beautiful wife, master of a lovely chateau. But why is there only one servant (Peter Mosbacher, in yellowface)? Why does he have nightmares about the Algerian war when he’s meant to have been carousing in Hong Kong? Why does he keep hearing thoughts of suicide in his sleep? Why do chandeliers keep dropping on his head? Why is his own Doberman hungry for his throat? Why did he almost fall from the attic and into sharp objects? Is someone trying to kill him? Could it be his wife? The kinky Chinese servant? The Doctor/Best Friend? And why?

The plot of the first two thirds of the film bear comparison with a gender-reversed Gaslight with Delon in the Bergman role. The last third is too obvious, pat and unconvincing. It’s a high-budget film (Duvivier, Delon, Henri Decoin as dop) that nonetheless feels under-produced. It’s a four-hander in a huge house, where the frame often feels empty. The whole film could have been more atmospheric; and whilst Delon is terrific, everyone else, particularly Senta Berger as the wife, could have been better, or at least more animated. Still, a terrific premise, entertaining if not quite good.

José Arroyo

In the ‘50s there was a fashion for ageing celebrities such as Dietrich and Noel Coward to go to a clinic in Switzerland – since the basis of the famous La Prairie brand of beauty products — to receive Dr. Niehans cellular treatment, where it was rumoured they got injected with sheep foetuses to reverse ageing. Traitement de choc (Alain Jessua, 1973) takes this a step further and makes the practice a parable for capitalism. In the 1970s France was dependent on migrant workers from Spain and Portugal as cheap labour to fuel their economy. And the film is quite explicit about this, beginning and ending with the arrival of a different set of migrant workers. Here it is not just their labour that is exploited but also their very organs, which are the basis for the rejuvenation serum the rich and powerful rely on. Annie Girardot — then French Cinema’s most popular actress, is a chic career woman who’s made a fortune in prêt-à- porter but is now looking to hold back time. When her gay best friend commits suicide under suspicious circumstances she begins to investigate. Alain Delon, in my favourite phase of his career – still beautiful but visibly ageing; cruel to most women to the point of misogyny but tender and vulnerable to at least one; an archetypally Gothic type of hero but for Delon being too selfish and ruthless to suffer; is the sexy but evil Doctor. Sleeping with all of the female clients seems to be part of the treatment. The film is no great shakes as cinema but is a very efficient thriller, a successful star vehicle for Girardot and Delon – both then at the height of their box-office – with modernist 70’s design and chic early 70s fashions, low-belted dress shirts that hug and show off a figure, light green plastic jackets. It also a quite powerful social critique. Oh, and in keeping with the fashion of the day, both stars appear naked. The film was released in the UK as DOCTORS IN THE NUDE to exploit Delon’s full-frontal nude scenes. There must have been something in the air that year because ASH WEDNESDAY (Larry Peerce, 1973) also draws on the clinic for inspiration, but to different ends. The film has a lovely Brazailian-influenced score by René Koering.