‘Freedom’ Review: Mélanie Laurent’s Smash-and-Grab Fictionalization Pays Homage to the Art of the Heist
Rather than taking the obvious route with an action-heavy, fictionalized portrait of French thief Bruno Sulak’s criminal misadventures of the late 1970s and early ’80s, filmmaker Mélanie Laurent shrewdly treats “Freedom” as an introspective, tragic romance centered on one man’s purpose and passion. Her creative instincts prove correct, though flawed and not exactly all that unique given the existence of “Heat,” “Thief” and a litany of other titles that traverse similar thematic territory. While she and co-writer Christophe Deslandes hit tonal notes at an efficient pace and introduce fascinating angles connecting the three leads, their spin on true-life events, exploring the psyches behind all involved, barely scratches the surface, leaving its impact severely blunted.
When we first meet rebellious mastermind Bruno (Lucas Bravo, who could pass for a young Gerard Butler), he’s knocking over small-town supermarkets for sport with his getaway-driver girlfriend Annie (Léa Luce Busato) and burly bagman buddy Drago (Steve Tientcheu). They’ve been raking in millions and having the time of their lives in a French chateau, frolicking and lazing about the estate in a sequence cut with the poeticism of a commercial for a luxury perfume — one smelling of moxie and mischief. They rationalize their illegal actions as stealing from the real thieves: banks and greedy corporations robbing clientele. Bruno’s polite manners, debonair magnetism and eyes as blue as the Côte d’Azur sea are key to the gang’s success, as he charms and calms his victims during holdups.
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Yet their exploits draw the attention of Detective George Moréas (Yvan Attal), whose days of busting petty delinquents are soon to be in his police car’s rearview mirror. His quest to apprehend Bruno is made all the more difficult by the crew’s additional members Patrick (David Murgia) and Steve (Radivoje Bukvic) causing a ruckus, as well as the unveiling of their latest grift, robbing jewelry boutiques all over France for hefty insurance payouts. But just when the heat is at its hottest, Annie implores Bruno to settle down and start a family with her. He’s forced to decide whether to give up the career that brings him copious amounts of joy and riches or continue the cat-and-mouse game he started with George.
Initially, Laurent and Deslandes set up their characters, motivational drives and brewing conflicts with assured intelligence. In essence, they fashion a crafty love triangle: Annie loves bad boy Bruno; Bruno loves the artistry of his job, so much so he routinely blurs the line between vacations and his vocation; and George loves the thrill of the chases Bruno sends him on, racing around the country to capture him multiple times due to his penchant for escaping. Plus, supporting players like Patrick, Drago and Steve are each gifted with indelible introductions, rounding out Bruno’s modern band of Merry Men.
That’s why it comes as a surprise that the filmmakers fail to properly develop these characters’ journeys with the same savvy they apply to the first act. Patrick’s destructive heroin habit is a problem for one scene and then never again, not because he’s kicked out of the crew for being a liability, nor because he sobers up, but because he’s forgotten about by the filmmakers by act two. Despite their integral roles in Bruno’s life, Drago and Steve’s inevitable send-offs are missing a sense of sincerity, though the actors do their best with the limited resources. The antagonistic interplay between Bruno and George is also dealt short shrift, lacking an electrifying oomph and glossing over aspects (better charting George’s tireless mission and Bruno’s slippery sensibilities) that would’ve deepened their respective gains and losses.
Rather than letting the emotional resonance of an intimate conversation reverberate throughout the picture — a chat between Annie and Drago’s lovelorn girlfriend Marika (Léo Chalié), ruminating on the resourceful strength it takes to be a gangster’s moll — its meaningfulness takes a back seat to the stereotypical rise-and-fall storyline. Though the film starts and ends on Annie having her universe upended by her choice of a romantic partner, everything in between is solely informed by a man. Her lone act of agency comes during a Cannes getaway, when she catches Bruno casing another job. Still, her doubts come out of nowhere, which feels not only disingenuous to the character, but to the audience as well.
Bravo, who’s only been able to hint at a dormant leading-man charisma with his supporting role on “Emily in Paris,” exercises his action anti-hero muscles with an impish allure. He teases out a playfulness within the character’s arrogance and a heart behind the hunkiness. Busato’s character is woefully underwritten and, therefore, the actress is frequently overshadowed by Bravo and Attal, who brings a snappy sense of wit and buoyancy to his bedraggled police chief. The men’s chemistry is solid, best exemplified by a watered-down tribute to the Pacino/De Niro restaurant scene in “Heat.”
Laurent doesn’t waste any time visually destabilizing us alongside her female protagonist in the opening, rotating the camera counter-clockwise to connote her world turning upside down. Later, that spinning motif repeats to connect the dizzying heights the bandits reach and the vertigo of their impending downfall. It’s disappointing that a similarly keen sensibility wasn’t applied to writing a thoroughly fleshed-out woman, given how Laurent and Deslandes delivered progressive, intelligently portrayed heroines in films like “The Adopted” and “The Mad Woman’s Ball.” It feels like women are the ones left imprisoned by this narrative, seeking a freedom these filmmakers are reticent to give.
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