Tell No One (2006, French)

I’m a sucker for French thrillers, and Tell No One may be the best I’ve seen since the excellent string of films from around 2000 - Read My Lips, With a Friend Like Harry, Merci pour le chocolat being some that spring immediately to mind (I’m not counting Michael Haneke’s French films, because they’re pretty much in a category of their own). On holiday in the country, Alex’s (Francois Cluzet, looking like a handsomer and more Gallic Dustin Hoffman) wife Margot disappears. Eight years later, Alex starts getting mysterious emails inferring that his wife might be alive after all. From there, it’s about two straight hours of intrigue, as Alex’s search for the truth digs deep into his and Margot’s past. It’s pretty propulsive filmmaking, though it does drag a bit near the grand finale.

No One may be an extremely Hollywoodized French film, but that’s not really a detriment – there’s still an emphasis on character over extraneous plot points or setpieces, and the twists aren’t dumbed down for the audience, though some are rather obvious once you’re paying attention. But one of the things that caught my eye was a real departure from many of No One’s compatriots – this isn’t an entirely anglo French world, and I was interested to see how the material balances the solidly white, heterosexual middle class with some of the other inhabitants of Paris. It’s like the flipside to Hanake’s Cache, and though most of the non-white characters are still portrayed as thugs, at least here one of them is a more complex character. One of these days, perhaps there will be a mainstream French film like No One that doesn't use race in stereotypical ways, but at least this film can have a dialogue about it, instead of shutting out the issue entirely.