Claude Chabrol, still in Hollywood, 1984
This is a pretty unworthwhile Hollywood take on France, with all but the onions and the striped jumpers. The story verges from downright offensive to simple confused near the end, though at least the intentions are revealed as alright.
The direction is simple and not particularly noticeable. The script is absolutely terrible, as is the acting. Jodie Foster and Sam Neill absolutely slaighter unpromising setups with some terrible overemoting. How does Chabrol find himself doing something like this?
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