Deux jours à tuer (2008)
Directed by Jean Becker

Film Review

On the face of it, Deux jours à tuer would appear to be a strange digression for director Jean Becker into much darker territory than he is known for.  Those whose experience of Becker is limited to his whimsical rural comedies Les Enfants du marais (1999) and Dialogue avec mon jardinier (2007) will be surprised by the viciously misanthropic and melancholic tone of this latest film.  Those with a wider appreciation of his work will be somewhat less shocked.  After all, this is the same Jean Becker who brought us the decidedly visceral thriller L'Été meurtrier (1983) and the ever-so slightly sick black comedy Un crime au paradis (2001).  Jean Becker is a far more versatile filmmaker than most people give him credit for.

Deux jours à tuer had a lukewarm reception when it was first released, partly because it had been heavily promoted as a mystery drama.  From the outset, the film looks like the usual mid-life crisis binge and initially appears to be an obvious rip-off of Jan Kounen's 99 francs (2007).  When his ideas for marketing a cure-all dairy product are dismissed by his client, a middle-aged advertising executive goes off the rails and starts behaving like a teeange delinquent with attitude.  Having quit his job, insulted his friends and given his kid's artwork the full Brian Sewell treatment (cruel, so cruel), he walks out on his wife and buggers off to Ireland to visit his dad.  The film attempts to make all this look like a murder mystery, but you have to be pretty thick and unimaginative not to have sussed the explanation as to why Mr Grumpy behaves as he does within twenty minutes or so.  When the solution to the soi-disant mystery is finally unveiled the element of surprise is conspicuous by its absence.  It is a bit like watching an Agatha Christie story in which Hercule Poirot accidentally lets slip the identity of the murderer before the crime has been committed.

Deux jours à tuer fails as a mystery and it also comes pretty close to failing as a piece of drama.  Auteur gimmicks like camerashake and some botched attempts at comedy provide needless distractions from the film's emotional core and rob it of the authenticity which the story merits.  The only scenes that ring true are those near the end of the film where Antoine makes his peace with his estranged father, two handed sequences involving male characters being something that Becker does particularly well - evidenced by Dialogue avec mon jardinier.  That the film works as well as it does is almost entirely down to Becker's inspired choice of lead actor.  Albert Dupontel is ideally suited for the ambiguous tragicomic part that he plays in this film.  Even when he is catapulted unceremoniously by his director into a sea of stale old clichés (Becker's portrayal of the Irish is particularly cringeworthy), Dupontel never fails to deliver the goods.  Here, his acting skills are tested to breaking point but he still manages to turn in a performance that is harrowingly convincing, one that is characterised by its brooding intensity and a sense of slowly mounting despair.

Albert Dupontel's star presence is just about the only thing going for this film.  Thanks to Becker's heavy-handed direction and a generally lacklustre screenplay (a pretty guileless adaptation of a novel by François d'Épenoux), the film's attempts to play the mystery card soon become wearisome.  A mediocre script seldom inspires better than mediocre performances so it is hardly surprising that the contributions from Dupontel's co-stars (with the obvious exception of Pierre Vaneck) are nothing to write home about.  Out of the entire ensemble of cast and crew, only Dupontel seems motivated to give the film his best shot and it's a pity that, given he is an accomplished filmmaker himelf, he was not in a position to direct it himself.  Killing time is just about all this film is good for.

Film Synopsis

Forty-something Antoine Méliot has everything a man could possibly want to be happy - a well-paid job, a beautiful wife, two adorable children, a nice house, and friends he can always rely on.  But then one day, on the spur of the moment, he makes the decision to throw it all away.  His job, his marriage, his friendships... Within one weekend, he sets out to destroy everything that was once dear to him.  What could have driven him to behave in such a bizarre manner...?