“I’ll be you and you be me.” A lawyer famous for losing hopeless cases agrees to defend a young man accused of murdering his wealthy aunt…only to have their identities start to blur. Meanwhile, a group of sinister psychologists circle around them.
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A masterpiece by all means. Scant attention to narrative, pedantic mise en scène, a convoluted reality-fiction interplay, semblence of a murder mystery and revenge drama and yet not quite, and a brilliant Catherine Denveuve. Not much else you can ask for.
Hell yes, stories infect us; choose well! Pick this one if you like playing on the trellis: Those universal monkeybars that sprout infinities at each step. That existential topography played on by Pynchon, Greenaway, Robbe-Grillet, Borges... Part deliciously improbable, deadpan dark comedy; part postmodern detective story; part game. Which also describes how we maintain 'identity' despite exponential hybridizations.
In late youth / early adulthood my experience of the many riches of world cinema for the most part involved watching VHS tapes whilst drinking bourbon and smoking joints. Probably not surprising that in this context I was a big fan of Ruiz in general and GÉNÉALOGIES in particular. Now comparatively clear-headed, I do not experience this movies as something that enfolds me, but I still marvel at the berserk invention.
"Truth is absorbed through the eyes", but not if you're dealing with the Franco-Belgian Psychoanalytic Society. Replete with shadows, mirrors, funerals and mind-games, "Genealogies of a Crime" is like Hitchcock meets Robbe-Grillet, but it's pretty much drenched in Ruizian dream logic.