Le problème d’infiltration [The infiltration problem] (2017)
(In French, On Cable TV, July 2019) I have a soft spot for cinematic style experiments even when the plot itself isn’t so noteworthy, and I got most of my attention’s worth in Le problème d’infiltration, which chronicles how a successful plastic surgeon’s life falls apart over a day or so. The stylistic trick here is a series of very long takes with lighting shifts, “impossible” camera moves (through a windshield, or a mirror) and never looking too far away from the lead actor’s face. The first 15-minute scene alone, recording an argument between a plastic surgeon (Christian Bégin, interesting) and badly disfigured patient that escalates into a physical confrontation, is enough to tell us that we’re in for a special kind of film. Writer-director Robert Morin is a seasoned professional (this is his 15th film), and he seems to be having fun here despite the sombre subject matter, using modern tools to harken back to expressionist filmmaking (the opening epigraph is from F.W. Murnau). The digital stitching of handheld camera shots is often obvious, but the cumulative impact of the wizardry at play is intriguing. Alas, Le problème d’infiltration’s narrative doesn’t always measure up to its execution, nor does it always get its intended impact. The ending feels abrupt (despite the protagonist telling what he thinks to the audience as his entire life burns down), the individual segments can feel far too long despite the film’s spry 90 minutes (the sequence in which he goes out to borrow bottles of wine from a neighbour feels forced) and at times the film feels as if it’s holding its punches toward a detestable protagonist. I found myself unaccountably giggling through a sequence meant to be harrowing—as the protagonist discovers that his son has a fondness for gangsta rap and bawls his eyes out, I found myself laughing at the overdone melodrama of the sequence—not only were the lyrics of the song a hilarious mashup of tough-guy Frenglish (“Je met ma bitch sur le corner”—ow, my brain), but it’s as if white teenagers hadn’t been acting like thug wannabes since the mid-1980s or so. Get with the times, Morin. Of course, the real tragedy of the sequence isn’t a patsy-white boy pretending to be a gangsta pimp—it’s the revelation of the protagonist as a full-blown narcissist who deserves everything he gets at the end of the movie. (If the point isn’t made yet, there’s a rape sequence moments later to make him irremediable.) Of course, there’s a lot left to the viewer’s interpretation here—Le Problème d’infiltration is a psychological drama, after all, not a cut-and-dried genre film. Still, there’s quite a bit here to hold anyone’s interest, especially for the rather rare fusion of form and technological innovation in a made-in-Québec film.