Despite his scant output, French director Erick Zonca still carries a mythic reputation twenty years after the debut of his first feature “The Dreamlife of Angels.” For his first theatrical feature since 2008’s Tilda Swinton vehicle “Julia,” the filmmaker chose to adapt “The Missing File,” a work of crime fiction by Israeli novelist Dror Mishani. The resulting film is “Black Tide,” which premiered at this year’s Fantasia Film Festival. Those expecting Zonca to emerge from his ten-year chrysalis as a major auteur are likely to be disappointed, but “Black Tide,” while somewhat journeyman in its construction, is a solid entry in a genre that’s undernourished on the big screen.
The main plot of “Black Tide” concerns the disappearance of a 16-year-old Dany Arnault, much to the dismay of his mother Solange (Sandrine Kiberlain, too often consigned to the role of weeping mother). Leading the investigation is Commander François Visconti (French cinema legend Vincent Cassel), a barely functioning alcoholic whose crass nature—sexist, racist, homophobic—sets him off against his environment. The main suspect is fellow apartment denizen, and Dany’s former teacher and personal French tutor, Yann Bellaile (a cartoonishly guilty-looking Romain Duris). Playing second fiddle to the main story is a subplot involving François and his own estranged son Denis (newcomer Félix Back), whose involvement with Senegalese drug dealers puts him at odds with his father.
“Black Tide” is a smart vehicle for Cassel, carrying the scraggly beard with aplomb (and somehow managing to maintain his physique from “La Haine” on a whiskey diet). The performance shows that the seasoned actor could profit from creating a signature character, even at this late phase in his career. As François’ foil, Duris’ oddball schoolteacher comes off less favorably. Every gesture by the actor, as well as his wardrobe, is calibrated to either be so obvious it must be him or so obvious it can’t be him, that the over-the-top characterization becomes a distraction to the thrust of the mystery. As “Black Tide” drags on, Yann tips from menacing to bafflingly comic.
Charles Berling (“Demonlover,” “Summer Hours”) and Élodie Bouchez (“Wild Reeds”) also surface in supporting roles and comport themselves in an unshowy, convincing manner. Perhaps the seasoned performers were chomping at the bit to work with Zonca, but it’s more likely than not a glimpse into the hustle of the French film industry outside of high-profile auteur projects. If anyone here deserves more screen time, it’s Hafsia Herzi (iconic in the show-stopping dance sequence from “The Secret of the Grain”) as François’ assistant. The actress deserves more than the commander’s misogynistic barbs and the brief glimpses of her taking command speak to a world beyond the protagonist’s toxic, boozy haze.
Don’t expect to see a franchise form around Cassel’s Commander Visconti character, as he spends the entirety of “Black Tide” on the precipice of career ruin—even his source inspiration, Inspector Avraham, went on to feature in a string of Mishani’s books. This self-destructive character, if anywhere, is where Zoncka’s authorial fingerprints are the most visible. François isn’t all that sharp of a detective, even before an afternoon snifter—his instincts regularly lead him down the wrong path. He’s an abrasive protagonist, and without any redeeming qualities; audience reactions to his whiskey-induced attempt to seduce Solange are likely to swing between laughter, cringing and eventually outright revulsion.
Right from the opening sequence, “Black Tide” makes a striking impression with its handheld photography, a tactic sustained through most of the runtime. With a résumé light on features, Italian cinematographer Paolo Carnera has instead cut his teeth on a number of buzzy crime series—most notably “Gomorrah”—and it shows in the visceral, grimy atmosphere of “Black Tide,” which isolates between the isolated apartment block and the seedy neon boulevard that serves as Denis and company’s marketplace. There may be little variety to locations in the film, but they can be striking nonetheless. François regularly returns to the Arnault household in search of clues. A web-like mural Dany’s bedroom—an over-imagined space for a teenager we never encounter in the flesh—captures the commander’s disintegrating composure when its placed behind him in an expressive close-up.
As François blindly pursues Yann, the narrative trajectory of “Black Tide” can come across as aimless. Regardless, Zonca sticks the landing with an uncompromising final scene. What appears to be the driving theme of the film—life imitating art imitating life—proves to be a red herring, as a string of revelations exposes the characters’ deplorable true natures as the story’s true sour heart. As unpalatable as “Black Tide” may be at times, Zonca’s unflinching rendering of Mishani’s novel and deceptively thoughtful construction show that the filmmaker is still a fountain of potential twenty years on from his grand debut at Cannes. [B-]
