Some artists are labelled ‘prolific’. Sometimes it is because they are born with no option but constant, genius artistic output. Ernest Hemingway, Thom Yorke, Anton Newcombe – these are all ‘prolific’ artists. At other times, the word is used to sugarcoat the relentless, lingering output of a sorry old bloke who just won’t die. Stephen King, Terry Pratchett, Paul Weller – I could go on. Director Claude Chabrol has been knocking out an average of one film per year since his 1958 debut and shows no sign of slowing with his latest venture La Fille Coupée en Deux (The Girl Cut in Two), released 22 May by Artificial Eye. Which camp this particular auteur falls into seems to swing from film to film.

Chabrol began his career amongst the New Wave crowd of the Cahiers du cinema [the most famous film magazine of all time] collective in 1950s Paris. He began as many of them did playing with the American noir format and living as an admirer of Renoir and Hitchcock. Since then he has outlived most of his peers and is among only a small clove of the New Wave gang still directing. The Girl in Two, having finally made its way over to the UK, follows the divided world of a TV celebrity being courted by two dramatically different lovers.

The first is an arrogant rich kid who defines for us the word ‘tosser’. The second is an older man, a writer pushing fifty but able to charm a fit blonde into bed. Through this older artist figure Chabrol appears to live his pre-retirement fantasies of blowjobs under the table while he types up his latest masterpiece. But, avoiding speculation and cynicism, all three characters are beautifully framed. We are given a very personal insight into each of their psychological instabilities, through which we are able to recognise many of the insecurities that all of us share.

Though Chabrol himself claims that he has intended to portray ‘a reality stripped of all romanticism’, certain cinematic dramatics still make an appearance: guns, lawsuits and implied gangbangs. Along with these, the stylish soundtrack and quick editing, the film is engaging from the credits, but definitely romantic. Chabrol’s intended realism comes through in the script (with its trademark blend of wit and grit) and through the flawless performances, particularly Benoît Magimel’s as the young aristo-twat Paul Gaudens. Typical themes dominate: class warfare, ageism, schizophrenia, hedonism, guilt, illusion and the key moral question of Chabrol’s work – whether French culture is heading towards Puritanism or decadence.

But, bearing this in mind, the piece is still openly ‘mainstream’. It is not a work of experiment but instead joyful filmmaking. Chabrol’s prolific nature relates clearly to his passion for cinema and for creating tender exposés of the human psyche under pressure. Chabrol does not concern himself with the wandering existentialism of his old peers; in fact, he is thoroughly modern in his approach to what is important and what is irrelevant. He is aware of what has changed since the postwar gloom and both celebrates and vindicates our new condition. While The Girl Cut in Two is by no means a cinematic icon, it is a powerful example of potent filmmaking: evidence that isn’t-he-dead-yet production can be anything but stagnant.

Words > Joe Bedford