Bad Blood, which became Carax’s definitive breakthrough, is the seamless sum of its disparate elements. We are, on the one hand, watching a more classic “one last heist” type of crime story, in which a dexterous young man (Denis Lavant), recruited into their team by two gentleman thieves, falls under the spell of Anna (Juliette Binoche), the mistress of an older criminal interpreted by Michel Piccoli, and love turns gruelling in the torture chamber of existence. The nostalgic narrative, reminiscent of Jacques Becker’s 1954 film Don’t Touch the Loot and at times even Pagnolian in style, is accompanied by futuristic grooves and sci-fi features: the Parisians of the future are tormented by a deadly virus transmitted during sex without any deeper feelings, and the planned robbery is also linked to the acquisition of its antidote.
Dystopian visions meet the conventions of the musical, a traditional French quartier tableau encounters modern love complemented by David Bowie tunes, and a timeless crime plot stumbles on the scorching asphalt steps of an existentialist amok run. Carax skilfully combines an ’80s catalogue almost borrowed from the advertising world (the main couple’s shaving foams, a colour palette bordering on Miami Vice) with adrenaline spikes culminating in the leading trio skydiving, making the sky theirs at least for a moment in “Grémillon” terms. Carax’s short story about love is a feast of sublime acting.
Lauri Timonen