The Crime Is Mine Review: The Divine Miss H Is Back and Better Than Ever

You may not know French filmmaker François Ozon by name, but odds are you’ve smiled at one of his movies. With a flair for stories centered on creative women, Ozon has spent over two decades building a vibrant filmography that skips between genres like a stone across a river. Though he’s dabbled in sinister thrillers like Swimming Pool and melodramas like Under the Sand, Ozon’s sweet spot lies in cheeky comedies. Tuned into pop culture and fashioned with visual panache, ozonesque romps like 8 Women and Potiche serve up sly social commentary with an arched eyebrow.

Ozon’s latest confection, The Crime Is Mine, continues his run of fizzy feminism. Whisking us back to 1935 Paris, the film follows Madeleine (Nadia Tereszkiewicz), an actress down on her luck, and Pauline (Rebecca Marder), her equally struggling roommate. When a lecherous producer turns up dead after an unsavory job offer to Madeleine, she becomes the prime murder suspect. Sensing opportunity for fame and fortune in the sensational case, Madeleine and Pauline hatch a plan: Madeleine will falsely confess to the crime to spark a media frenzy, while rising legal star Pauline defends her innocence.

Set amidst art deco interiors and era-perfect costumes, their scheme kicks off a snappy, stylized romp packed with social scheming and sisterly bonds. Buckle up for screwball antics, splashy trial theatrics, and the divine spectacle of a frizzy-haired Isabelle Huppert devouring the scenery. With Crime, Ozon promises good clean fun even while the makeup hides bruises.

Leading Ladies: Meet the Film’s Vivacious Visionaries

In the world of The Crime Is Mine, the fellas fade into the background while the ladies command the spotlight. Though men make the rules, it’s the women who find ways to rewrite them.

As struggling actress Madeleine, Nadia Tereszkiewicz radiates old school pluck with a modern edge. Getting by on sporadic acting gigs and dodging a slumlord, Madeleine keeps her chin up and dreams big even while barely scraping by. So when sleazy producer Montferrand winds up dead after a sordid proposition, Madeleine spies opportunity amidst the turmoil. Concocting a false confession to grab headlines, she gambles that the ensuing media circus will flip her fortunes even if it means risking prison. Tereszkiewicz makes Madeleine’s ambition feel more charming than chilling.

Madeleine finds her partner in crime in Pauline, played with subtle depth by Rebecca Marder. A gifted but unemployed lawyer, Pauline believes in Madeleine’s innocence even as she enables her risky lies. Cool-headed and whip-smart, Pauline masterminds Madeleine’s defense strategy less for fame than out of loyalty to her dear friend – and perhaps hidden affection. In the courtroom, Pauline emerges as a firebrand feminist, using Madeleine’s case to indict entrenched chauvinism.

Rounding out the trio of leading ladies is screen legend Isabelle Huppert as Odette, a former silent film icon erupting into the plot to upend the women’s scheme. Beneath Odette’s diva dramatics and demanding tirades lies a weariness – she’s a woman discarded by an industry quick to forget. In Huppert’s hands, both Odette’s grandiosity and her grit feel genuine.

While the gents hover on the outskirts, two stand out: André, Madeleine’s affable but aimless beau, who expects his wealth to solve every woe, and Montferrand, the lecherous producer whose death sets the story in motion. Smarmy even in flashback, Montferrand represents the worst of male entitlement.

The Crime Is Mine serves up not one femme fatale but three multifaceted female forces to be reckoned with. Even while using femininity as a weapon or tool, each heroine claims new agency in a fixed game.

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A Visual Valentine to Cinema’s Glory Days

From its opening velvet curtain to the closing newspaper headlines, The Crime Is Mine immerses us in 1930s Paris – and 1930s filmmaking – with nostalgic zeal. Shooting on studio sets with era-perfect design, director François Ozon and cinematographer Jeanne Lapoirie transport us back to the decade when movies learned to talk…and sing…and scheme.

Production designer Jean Rabasse delivers Art Deco eye candy galore, from Madeleine and Pauline’s garret apartment with floral flourishes to the sleek modernist mansion where much of the drama unfolds. And costume designer Pascaline Chavanne dresses the cast in an array of louche lounge suits, slinky satin gowns, and cloche hats. The visuals feel both fanciful and authentic, like premium chocolate with depth beneath the gloss.

When the characters speak of cinema, it’s with passion – Madeleine and Pauline bond over Hollywood hits of the day, while former silent star Odette name-drops pioneers like Alice Guy. Ozon weaves the art form into the storytelling through flashbacks rendering the supposed murder in moody black-and-white. The scenes echo silent melodramas as characters strike poses and mugs of shock. Even the trial ultimately becomes a piece of theater, with Madeleine rehearsing like an anxious ingénue.

Beyond the playful pastiche, composer Philippe Rombi grounds us in the 1930s with his score, by turns brassy, romantic, and loungy. Snappy jazz and big band beats capture the era when art, style, and mobility defined the zeitgeist before economic gloom descended. The whole package feels transportive yet modern, finding parallels between the ambitious women of 1935 and their stepsisters today.

The Crime Is Mine doesn’t just tell a story set in cinema’s golden age – it celebrates film itself as a dream-making machine reflecting and shaping society. Tune in and you may feel like a starry-eyed spectator time traveling through the screen.

Laughing Through the Tears: Finding Empowerment in Absurdity

“Doing justice,” muses a character late in the film, “has nothing to do with what’s just.” By upending expectations of morality tales, The Crime Is Mine makes a serious statement in a playful tone: that sometimes refusing to play by crooked rules is the only path to power.

Tonally, the film lives up to its title – it’s a crime how funny this movie is considering the gravity. Peppered with screwball antics, slick dialogue, and physical hijinks, Ozon creates a breezy escapist confection swirling around somber themes of gender violence, unlawful systems, and discarded women. The tension between weighty issues and whimsical treatment gives the comedy bite without draining its fizz.

Bubbling beneath the surface froth simmers biting commentary on sexism and sensationalism. Madeleine endures sexual coercion from predatory Montferrand. Visionary filmmaker Odette sees her talents erased by a celebrity-obsessed culture. Pauline highlights society’s mixed messages, noting how women face scorn for both purity and promiscuity. Ozon slyly indicts the media frenzy around accused female killers which Madeleine exploits for success – if the world treats women as monsters, why not lean into it?

Yet for all their socially proscribed flaws, Ozon adores his ambitious heroines. Unlike cutthroat starlets, Madeleine and Pauline’s dreams feel worthy even when their methods invite raised eyebrows. Their self-preserving partnership amidst injustice makes survival feel like sweet success. Huppert plays Odette’s narcissism for laughs but gives glimmers of her crushed spirit – a caution against forgetting our icons.

While the fellas bluster and flounder, the ladies quietly claim power using femininity to their advantage. Through the media melee and legal antics, Ozon’s leading ladies expose and cheerfully conquer the system seeking to condemn them. In The Crime is Mine, the punishment may not fit the crime, but the women are determined to make it fit like a glove.

Flipping the Script: Interrogating Truth in Troubled Times

The Crime Is Mine propels its plot through a familiar device – the false confession. Rather than a barrier to justice, Madeleine’s admitted lies become the key unlocking her success. Ozon embraces the trickery while prompting us to ponder knotty questions.

In an unjust world, do the ends justify fibbing means? As Pauline ascends the legal ranks thanks to defending Madeleine’s innocence-by-deception, does her laudable feminist advocacy outweigh her ethical compromises? Ozon avoids easy answers, preferring to embrace messy contradictions. Madeleine’s ambition could seem chilling, yet sympathy remains with the enterprising women outfoxing endemically corrupt men via theatrics.

Just as Madeleine performs femininity as a cunning legal strategy, Ozon uses cinema itself as part of his social commentary. The trial becomes a literal stage with Madeleine the reluctant star, her trauma a dramaturgical device. Ozon intentionally conjures Hollywood tropes – the intrepid female lawyer, the fallen silent star – before deepening their humanity. But in depicting celebrity culture via genre pastiche, Ozon prompts questions about real women brought to tragic ends by media distortion. Much like his tricky heroines, Ozon manipulates stereotypes to reveal greater truths.

Ultimately, The Crime Is Mine resides in provocative gray areas where innocence and villainy blur. The film’s breezy tone belies the thorny moral quandaries within. By the close, our anti-heroes evade consequences, rewarding narrative satisfaction over legal justice. Perhaps by upending expectations, Ozon asks viewers not to take tidy truths for granted when reality offers only haze. In troubled times, sometimes complex questions outshine simple answers.

Closing Credits: A Fitting Finale to An Frothy Farce

As the lights come up in the theater, The Crime Is Mine culminates as a resounding return to form for director François Ozon. Though the script creaks occasionally under the weight of its decade-spanning DNA, Ozon injects new life into the 1934 stage play source material. Whipping up a soufflé of sinister schemes, social spectacle, and screwball antics, Ozon makes a fine case for breathing fresh air into forgotten works.

What works best is the film’s bouncy pace, popping visuals, and charming cast. Ozon keeps the mood effervescent across over two hours of legal limbo, leaning into the theatricality with iris shots, spinning headlines, and a rousing jazz score. Production designer Jean Rabasse delivers dazzling Deco backdrops bolstered by Pascaline Chavanne’s era-perfect costumes, from silk robes to strand of pearls. And anchoring the ride is a trio of terrific actresses, with Nadia Tereszkiewicz and Rebecca Marder vibrating at Golden Age starlet frequency alongside screen legend Isabelle Huppert vamping it up to the rafters.

Yet for all its infectious energy, certain supporting players fall flat, struggling to give one-note parts further dimension. And the risk-free ending denies the audience – and characters – the just desserts that should accompany deception. Ozon only lightly grazes his heroines’ ethical transgressions, opting to reward ambition at any cost.

But perhaps in 2023, embracing law-flouting ladies who outsmart the boy’s club to thrive makes for a fitting final message. Ozon sends us off with smiles by granting his quick-witted leading women well-earned victory on their own defiant terms. In an era still rife with gender oppression, watching The Crime Is Mine’s unconventional protagonists succeeding by their sharp wits proves a sweet triumph worth toasting. The bubbly goes down smooth with just enough bite to linger.

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