Claude Chabrol (1930-2010) was one of those filmmakers who seemed to regard cinema less as a profession than as a permanent state of curiosity.
The French director made films for more than half a century, moving with surprising ease between murder stories, comedies, literary adaptations and psychological dramas, but beneath the variety there was a remarkably consistent preoccupation: what happens when the polished surface of respectable life begins to crack.
Born in Paris in 1930, Chabrol grew up in a bourgeois family and spent part of the Second World War in the small village of Sardent in central France. Cinema became an early obsession. He organised screenings and immersed himself in films with the enthusiasm of someone discovering an alternative education. After the war he returned to Paris, where he studied literature and law but was increasingly drawn towards the city’s film culture. The Cinémathèque Française was his real university.
There he became part of the remarkable circle of young cinephiles who would soon transform French cinema. François Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, Éric Rohmer and Jacques Rivette were among his contemporaries, and the journal Cahiers du cinéma became their battleground. Chabrol joined the magazine in the early 1950s, writing about the American directors whom established French critics often dismissed as commercial entertainers. Alfred Hitchcock was particularly important to him. Chabrol recognised that suspense could be much more than a mechanism for frightening an audience: it could expose character, morality, sexual jealousy and social hypocrisy.
A close friendship with Éric Rohmer led to their influential study of Hitchcock, published in 1957. But Chabrol was not content to remain a critic. His circumstances gave him an opportunity that many of his colleagues lacked. An inheritance from his first wife’s family provided money with which he could make films, and Chabrol used some of it to help finance work by other young filmmakers. He was therefore not simply one of the New Wave directors; he was among the people who helped create the conditions in which the movement could happen.
His own first feature, Le Beau Serge (1958), was made on a modest budget in Sardent. It was an audacious beginning: rather than constructing an elaborate cinematic world, Chabrol went back to a place he knew and turned its landscape and inhabitants into the setting for a story about friendship, disappointment and moral failure. The film immediately demonstrated an instinct that would remain central to his work—the ability to find menace in ordinary surroundings.
Les Cousins followed in 1959 and won the Golden Bear in Berlin. If Le Beau Serge had looked towards provincial France, Les Cousins shifted its attention to Paris and the seductive, competitive world of bourgeois youth. Chabrol’s cinema was already different from the more romantic image of the New Wave. His characters could be attractive, witty and modern, but he had little faith in the idea that modernity automatically made people freer or better.
During the early 1960s his career became less predictable. Chabrol made films that were not always successful and experimented with commercial genres, including thrillers and spy films. This period is sometimes treated as a detour, but it was actually important to his development. He learned how to work within the machinery of commercial filmmaking without abandoning his own interests. Unlike some of his fellow New Wave directors, he was never particularly interested in making difficulty or experimentation an end in itself. He liked audiences, genres and stories. By the end of the decade, he had found his territory.

Les Biches (1968), La Femme infidèle above (1969), Que la bête meure (1969) and Le Boucher (1970) (main pic) established the Chabrol style in its mature form. The settings became increasingly bourgeois: comfortable houses, country properties, restaurants, schools and immaculate dinner tables. Yet these reassuring environments were rarely reassuring for long. Chabrol understood that wealth and good manners could provide excellent camouflage for obsession, cruelty and violence.
Stéphane Audran became the great female presence of this period. Elegant without being conventionally glamorous, intelligent and capable of suggesting enormous emotional depths without displaying them, she was perfectly suited to Chabrol’s cinema. Their professional partnership produced some of his finest work, including La Femme infidèle and Le Boucher. His fascination was not simply with adultery or murder but with the elaborate social rituals surrounding them—the lies people tell themselves, the things they choose not to see, and the extraordinary lengths to which respectable people will go to preserve appearances.

Stephan Audrane at Venice in 2017 | copyright image
This is why calling Chabrol the “French Hitchcock” is useful only up to a point. Hitchcock gave him a language of suspense, but Chabrol used it for his own purposes. His real subject was France: its provincial life, its bourgeoisie, its class divisions, its institutions and its hypocrisies. A murder in a Chabrol film is often less important than the society surrounding the murderer and the victim.
He also had a wicked sense of humour. Chabrol could be ruthless without being solemn. He enjoyed the absurdity of bourgeois rituals—the elaborate meals, the polite conversations, the apparently impeccable marriages—and often allowed comedy to sit beside horror. His villains were not necessarily monsters. Sometimes they were simply people who had reached the point where the rules they lived by could no longer contain their desires.

His productivity was extraordinary. He continued making films through the 1970s and 1980s, often producing work quickly and sometimes moving between serious and commercial projects. There were weaker films, inevitably, but he rarely seemed to lose interest in the possibilities of cinema. He could take a familiar genre and find another way of looking at it.
In the late 1980s and 1990s came another remarkable period. Une affaire de femmes, Madame Bovary, Betty and L’Enfer showed a filmmaker who had become increasingly interested in the psychology of women, marriage and social constraint. Then came La Cérémonie in 1995, one of his most powerful films. With Isabelle Huppert and Sandrine Bonnaire, Chabrol turned a story of domestic service and class resentment into something far more disturbing: a portrait of two social worlds that coexist but scarcely understand one another.
His later films retained the same fascination with hidden motives and carefully maintained appearances. By then Chabrol had become an institution, but he never entirely behaved like one. He continued to make films at a remarkable rate, and his appetite for actors, locations and stories remained intact. He could be sardonic, playful, occasionally mischievous, but he was always watching. His last two films were The Girl Cut in Two (2007) starring Ludivine Sagnier and Benoit Magimel, and Bellamy (2009) with Gerard Depardieu in the leading role.
Chabrol died in Paris in 2010, aged eighty. By then he had made more than fifty features, an astonishing body of work that is both uneven and remarkably coherent. His career also offers a different model of what a New Wave director could become. Where Godard continually challenged the language of cinema and Truffaut turned filmmaking into a form of personal expression, Chabrol gradually became a master of classical storytelling. He took the lessons of the New Wave and used them to make films that could look almost conventional while quietly subverting everything they appeared to believe in.
That may be his greatest achievement. Chabrol made the bourgeois thriller into a form of social observation. His camera enters the dining room, sits down at the table and waits. The wine is poured, the conversation begins, everyone behaves correctly—and somewhere underneath the civility is anger, desire, jealousy or fear. Chabrol knew that the most revealing moment is not necessarily when the crime takes place. It is the moment just before, when everyone is still pretending that everything is perfectly normal.
CLAUDE CHABROL: ELEMENTS OF CRIME from 1 September – 6 October 2026 at the BFI Southbank London.
Dirty weekends don’t come any dirtier than the one in this ferocious indie revenge thriller that has ravishing locations, a twisty storyline, and a female lead who is not just a pretty face.
Le Corbeau (1942)
Upon its release in 1943, Le Corbeau was condemned by the political left and right and the church, and Clouzot was banned from filmmaking for two years.
Woman in Chains (1968)
Karina went on to star in seven of his films, the first was Le Petit Soldat that same year. She won Best Actress at the Berlin Film Festival in 1961 for Une Femme est une Femme. While marriage to Godard was stormy to say the least – he neglected her emotionally – “he was the sort of man who would go for a packet of cigarettes and return three weeks later” – their artistic relationship blossomed with a string of New Wave hits: Vivre sa Vie (1962); Bande a Part (1964); Pierrot Le Fou (1965); Alphaville (1965) and Made in USA (1966). When Godard cast her in his episode ‘Anticipation’ for The Oldest Profession (1966), they were already divorced and not on speaking terms. But Karina stayed loyal to Godard and a few years ago at the BFI she talked about him in glowing terms.
Dir: Alain Resnais; Cast: Sabine Azéma, Pierre Arditi, André Dussollier, Fanny Ardant; France 1986, 112 min.
But Julien Duvivier’s 1956 thriller DEADLIER THAN THE MALE (Voici les temps des Assassins) somehow manages to outdo them all when it comes to violent women in film Noir: Catherine (Delorme) is the daughter of the drug depending Gabrielle (Bogaert), and tries to escape from the milieu by marrying the restaurant owner Andre Chatelin (Gabin), who has divorced her mother. Telling him that Gabrielle is dead, the scheming Catherine succeeds in marrying the much older man, who soon learns that his wife is lying about her mother. He more or less imprisons her with her mother Antoinette (Bert), also a restaurant owner, who kills her chicken with a whip – which she also uses on Catherine. The frightened woman asks Andre’s friend, the student Gerard (Blain), to kill her husband, but when he refuses, she kills him. Her end – by the fangs of a particular vicious animal – is particularly gruesome. Again, the images of Armand Thirad are undeserving of this blatant ideology.
The notorious Pépé LE MOKO (Jean Gabin, in a truly iconic performance) plunges into the gangster underworld as a wanted man: women long for him, rivals hope to destroy him, and the law is breathing down his neck at every turn. On the lam in the labyrinthine Casbah of Algiers, Pépé is safe from the clutches of the police–until a Parisian playgirl compels him to risk his life and leave its confines once and for all. One of the most influential films of the 20th century and a landmark of French poetic realism, Julien Duvivier’s Pépé le moko is presented here in its full-length version. AVAILABLE FROM CRITERION COLLECTION | Amazon Prime
WINTER’S CHILD (L’ENFANT DE L’HIVER) (1989) ****
Dir.: Alain Resnais; Cast: Delphine Seyrig, Giorgio Albertazzi, Sacha Pitoeff; France/Italy 1961, 94 min
Dir.: Jean Renoir; Cast: Rene Lefevre, Florelle, Jules Berry, Nadia Sibirskaia; France 1936, 80 min.
Vagabond


Artistic director Carlo Chatrian has unveiled his final line-up with an exciting eclectic selection of titles spanning mainstream and arthouse fare due to run at the picturesque Lake Maggiore setting from the 1st until 11th August 2018.

This year’s Cannes Classic sidebar has one or two priceless gems glittering in its antique crown. Apart from well-known legends: Ozu’s Tokyo Story, Hitchcock’s Vertigo, Wilder’s Apartment, Varda’s One Sings, The Other Doesn’t and Bondarchuks’ War and Peace, there are some worthwhile lesser known features not be missed.
Jacques Rivette is famous for his playful features such as Céline and Juliette go Boating, but his one and only excursion into mainstream, La Religieuse (1966), based on a Diderot novel, is full of anarchic fun. Suzanne Simonin (Anna Karina), is incarcerated in a cloister against her will, and soon falls foul of not one, but three Mother-Superiors: they treat her sadistically, tenderly, or as an object for plain lesbian lust – but Suzanne stays pure. This anti-clerical romp was very popular at the box office, and served as a liberating force for Karina who finally got a divorce from JL Godard after having acted in their final collaboration, Made in USA, in the same year.
Hyenas (1992), directed by Senegalese filmmaker Djibri Diop Mambety (1945-1998), is a re-telling of the Durrenmatt play ‘Der Besuch der alten Dame’ (Visit of an old Lady). Set in an impoverished African village, the old lady in question is very rich – but she has not forgotten how her lover (now the Mayor) had treated her when she was pregnant with his child. She asks the townsfolk a simple question: do they want to participate in her wealth and punish the guilty man, or would they prefer clean hands and poverty. Colourful and very passionate, this adaption of a Swiss play works very well in its African setting.
Tôkyô monogatari (Tokyo Story / Voyage à Tokyo) by Yasujiro Ozu (1953, 2h15, Japan)
Vertigo by Alfred Hitchcock (1958, 2h08, United States of America)
Četri balti krekli (Four White Shirts)
João a faca e o rio (João and the Knife)
L’une chante, l’autre pas (One Sings the Other Doesn’t)
Five and the Skin (Cinq et la peau)
Festival bigwig Thierry Frémaux warned us to expect shocks and surprises from this year’s festival line-up, distilled down from over 1900 features to an intriguing list of 18 – and there will be a few more additions before May 8th. The main question is “where are the stars?” or better still “Where is Isabelle Huppert” doyenne of the Croisette – up to now. The answer seems to be that they are on the jury – 














s Dee), a Canadian nurse, takes care of Jessica (Christine Gordon) on the West Indian island of St. Sebastian. Jessica is married to the sugar planter Paul Holland (Tom Conway). She falls in love with Paul’s half-brother Wesley (James Ellison). After a scene with her husband, she falls into a trauma, and after several attempts of ‘curing’ her, Mrs. Rand (Edith Barnett), Paul and Wesley’s mother confesses that she has cast a voodoo spell on Jessica for bringing the family into disrepute. Wesley finally kills Jessica, to set her free. Tourneur preferred Zombie to Cat People, and often cited it as his favourite film. Zombie is Tourneur’s purest film when it comes to cinematic poetry, combining sounds and images into a “power of suggestion”, enhanced by the film’s narrative, which is full of enigma and contradiction, eluding any attempt to interpret it in a linear way. Zombie “is a sustained exercise in uncompromising ambiguity. Perfecting the formula that Lewton and Tourneur had developed in Cat People, the film carries its predecessor’s elliptical, oblique narrative procedures to astonishing extremes. The dialogue is almost nothing but a commentary on past events, obsessively revisiting itself, finally giving up the struggle and surrendering to a mute acceptance of the inexplicable. We watch the slow, atmospheric, lovingly detailed scenes with delight and fascination, realising at the end, that we have seen nothing but the traces of a conflict decided in advance.” (Chris Fujiwara).

















































Truffaut’s La Peau Douce is known, in translation, as Soft Skin, as it best conveys the film’s vulnerability of character and minimal eroticism. It’s a superb, understated study of adultery that descends into a crime passionel.




















































