Hilariously cliche 80's shit from France. But they're super serious about their new wave. You can tell. Don't mock them. Don't count them out. They have leather jackets and startling haircuts and they're waving out in an abandoned warehouse. Plus they're French.
"You can't just go around killing people when the notion strikes you. It's just not feasible."
Lawrence Tierney swirls around in the gutter with a cynical divorcee, a sleazy, opportunistic detective, and a soused and dilapidated landlady - all mashed together in a big greasy ball of blackmail, murder and despair. Each character would appear to have no redeeming qualities whatsoever, but Tierney's at his powderkeg best here, seething so intensely that at one point he appears to be able to make himself bust out in a sweat. Low-rent noirs don't come much more tawdry and pungent.