The problem of drug addiction is even worse today than 15 years ago when Lucas Belvaux's film was released, and unfortunately he adds little to nothing here.
An attempt at a different approach fails miserably, as the first half of the 2-hour feature is deadly dull - a combination of police procedural and domestic drama. Gilbert is a corrupt cop and he plays the role blankly: all we know about the poker-faced, handsome guy (should have been cast as a gangster instead) is he babies his teacher wife Dominique Blanc in her addiction to morphine (which he acquires illegally through his job) and he is attracted to her friend Ornella Muti (duh!, who wouldn't be?).
Blanc's underplaying for nearly an hour is wearying, until in the second half the script turns from kitchen sink dreariness to overheated melodramatic outbursts, thoroughly unconvincing. Tying up the case he's working on with his wife's predicament is a ridiculous "neat" script ploy, and Belvaux himself intrudes in the nothing role of the arch villain of the piece, played flatly by him.
What this proves is that even a serious approach by a serious filmmaker can end up as routine and pointless as any exploitation film about oft- exploited subject matter. I much prefer the extremes of the genre, namely "Christiane F." on the docu-style well-meaning end of the spectrum, or a good, old-fashioned sexploitation approach at the other.
An attempt at a different approach fails miserably, as the first half of the 2-hour feature is deadly dull - a combination of police procedural and domestic drama. Gilbert is a corrupt cop and he plays the role blankly: all we know about the poker-faced, handsome guy (should have been cast as a gangster instead) is he babies his teacher wife Dominique Blanc in her addiction to morphine (which he acquires illegally through his job) and he is attracted to her friend Ornella Muti (duh!, who wouldn't be?).
Blanc's underplaying for nearly an hour is wearying, until in the second half the script turns from kitchen sink dreariness to overheated melodramatic outbursts, thoroughly unconvincing. Tying up the case he's working on with his wife's predicament is a ridiculous "neat" script ploy, and Belvaux himself intrudes in the nothing role of the arch villain of the piece, played flatly by him.
What this proves is that even a serious approach by a serious filmmaker can end up as routine and pointless as any exploitation film about oft- exploited subject matter. I much prefer the extremes of the genre, namely "Christiane F." on the docu-style well-meaning end of the spectrum, or a good, old-fashioned sexploitation approach at the other.