Left Field Cinema

Mesrine charts the tumultuous beginnings of the eponymous career gangster from his youth with the French in Algiers, to his then legendary criminal escapades across continents and decades. Basing the piece solely on Mesrine's own autobiography, Richet attempts to draw the man quintessentially, to summarise him completely across his two parts, an aim unequivocally voiced in the films 'disclaimer' style opening. Firmly in the footsteps of Soderberg’s Che, and infinitely indebted to the Americanised gangster tradition (this truly is "the French Scarface", something I'll come to later), Richet merges genre convention with the idiosyncrasy of his subject to create a character who, probably most of all in real life, drives the narrative of all that occurs around him.

It is difficult to know where to start. In positive terms, Cassel and the majority of his supporting class are excellent. Resting somewhere between caricature and meditation, Cassel portrays Mesrine as the man he surely believed he was. Blunt in his hedonism yet shrewd in his brutality, Cassel performs well in the limited space that Richet allows him, the supporting cast at its strongest in De France as Mesrine's romantic/criminal accomplice. Richet's direction is unobtrusive but adeptly so, preferring to communicate to his audience through a richly archetypal mise en scene of poker, sports cars and San Tropez. The notable exception is the remarkably brutal portrayal of Mesrine's incarceration at the then-notorious S.C.U, a harrowing sequence that in its rejection of the melodrama that penetrates the rest of the film, is undoubtedly the highlight of the piece.

The majority of Mesrine is strangely difficult. The film is episodic to say the least; in simple jump cuts sex turns into marriage and motherhood, simple workmates are suddenly the most loyal of accomplices. The overall effect of this is ultimately frustrating; little is set for long enough for the audience to integrate at all with the characters, and the wild temporal shifts result in some cringe-worthily pointless expository scenes. We jump from set piece to set piece with little care for circumstance, and whilst this cinematic hedonism is initially refreshing, it begins to wane quickly. Without the gravity of Cassel's screen presence there would be very little here to excite, and in many ways, he rescues the film. Richet's episodic approach is presumably the result of his dedication to the megalomania of his source text, but this is hardly justification for a narrative that bumbles along like a two hour trailer.

So it's strange that i enjoyed Mesrine. It's incredibly similar to Michael Mann's recent offering Public Enemies (Mark Kermode notes this, but I can't imagine anyone seeing both not making the link). Remarkably superficial, but adept enough to retain interest, both films are notable pieces within the space of the year. They're both fun, and between cliche and gunshots the leads draw the audience into films that don't deserve the level of interest they invoke. The main problem with Mesrine is the 'French Scarface' comment repeated above. The French already have all the bravado and nonsense of Scarface. It's subtitled. They might appreciate an in depth character examination of their most infamous criminal, and they'd probably love it with Cassel on the posters. In Mesrine, they certainly haven't got that. Bring on part two. But a little more patience this time please.

Ben Conway