To generalize: Claude Chabrol was the French new wave director least interested in reinventing the grammar of filmmaking. In his later years, Chabrol continued to turn out well-made movies in the narrative tradition. One of his best is The Color of Lies (1999), out now on Blu-ray.
An elegantly crafted film that (unlike the work of some of his colleagues) never strains for cinematic effect, The Color of Lies is a story of child murder, marital infidelity and small town suspicion. It concerns a painter whose stalled career led him to a village on the Breton coast where he lives with his wife and gives drawing lessons. When a 10-year old girl is raped and murdered after leaving his cottage, he is ostracized by the community and questioned by police. Meanwhile his wife, although loving him, responds to the flirtatious advances of their neighbor, a cynical celebrity intellectual.
The Color of Lies is unhurried but never sluggish, closely observant of its setting and characters and subtly infused with droll bits. Disappointed dreams form the backdrop, not only for the painter and his wife but also for a society where the economy is bad and opportunities are just beyond reach. The acting is understated throughout; no grand Hollywood gestures, just the sense of real people finding their way through troubled times.
