Lies and Deceit – Cop Au Vin (1985) & Inspector Lavardin (1986)(Review)

Of all the names that came to prominence during the French New Wave, Claude Chabrol is one that didn’t receive the same level of acclaim or legacy as his illustrious peers. Arrow Video are doing their part to help with his broader perception by releasing two thematically tied boxsets in 2022, the first, Lies and Deceit, and the latter (out in April) is called Twisting the Knife. I’ll just be talking about two films from the Lies and Deceit set today, and both are centred on the amoral detective Inspector Lavardin, first in 1985’s Cop Au Vin (based on the novel ‘Une mort en trop‘ by Dominique Roulet) and its 1986 sequel, named after the detective himself.

Thanks to the short but exceptionally detailed introductions by film scholar Joël Magny, Cop Au Vin was heralded as a return to the classic Chabrol film after a dramatic split from his long term producer. Furthermore, he was only prepared to shoot Cop Au Vin once he had the right cast. Pivotal was the effective casting of Jean Poiret as Inspector Lavardin; a role he went on to play in a four-part TV mini-series. Unfortunately, any further outings for the character were undone by the untimely passing of Poiret. I am paraphrasing here, but Chabrol stated: “that without Poiret, there is no Lavardin,” and, I am inclined to agree, this is an incredible performance. On the face of it, he is a jaded provincial detective – not a million miles away from Peter Falk’s Columbo. Where Columbo used his wiles to manipulate the truth out of people, Lavardin wasn’t averse to beating up suspects in broad daylight, engaging in a gentle bit of water torture or manipulating suspects to make sure the ‘right’ person’s charged for the crime, whether guilty or not. Balancing all of that while outwardly being affable is an act that few could manage, as Chabrol attested, Poiret is Lavardin, and he is the reason to watch this duo of films.

In Cop Au Vin, Lavardin doesn’t appear for a good while – before his appearance, Chabrol focuses the film on a satire of the upper classes of rural France as a group of powerful people in the town attempt to muscle the Cuno family (mother (Stéphane Audran) and son, Louis (Lucas Belvaux)) out of their family home. One of those people wishing to force the Cuno family out is the butcher, whose brutal tactics go as far as threatening to burn the mother and son out of their family home. He is the first to die at the hands of a freak accident caused by sugar in his car’s fuel tank. After that, the disappearances and deaths start rolling in, which eventually summons Inspector Lavardin to town. Even so, the main character is the awkward and naive Louis Cuno, who spends much of his time attempting and failing to keep his relationship with Henrietta (Pauline Lafont), caring for his wheelchair-bound Mother, his job as the postman and his spying in equilibrium.

In 1985, the police procedural wasn’t as over-exposed. Back then, the crime sub-genre was preoccupied with campy double acts and people of questionably adjacent careers solving murders. In 2022, there are so many police procedural dramas that they have devolved into a gestalt blob and indiscernible white noise. It’s unfair to use this as a measuring stick for either of these films, but it’s hard to separate a film from the cultural context it’s experienced within. Long story short, the mystery aspect isn’t up to much, instead, the value comes from the rogue’s gallery and how these characters interact with one another. Conu Jr, for example, seems to be taking part in a coming of age drama while all these murders occur around him and maybe even because of him. That makes for a much more intriguing tale than who is murdering who and why. Even then, Lavardin’s savage investigation techniques also elevate the story way above the exhausting hoi polloi. That being said, the final scene and its freeze-frame are weird, and I am not sure whether it’s good weird, either. 

Made a year later, in 1986, Inspector Lavardin is a much more conventional murder mystery to the extent that the titular character refers to his occasional police officer assistant, Vigouroux (Pierre-François Dumeniaud), as Watson. Back in Smalltown France, there is a play about to hit the local theatre – a blasphemous play adorably titled “our father who fart in heaven“. Upon seeing the poster, a group of conservative religious types turn up on the doorstep (complete with “down with this sort of thing” style placards) of a famous author and local, Raoul Mons (Jacques Dacqmine). In the following scene, Raoul is dead, naked and has “pig” scrawled upon his naked torso. Inspector Lavardin is in this from the get-go, and while the murders may not be as numerous, the mystery takes a lot more digging to unearth. Lavardin provokes, in his very unconventional style, the local club owner, the family he is staying with (including grieving mother, a gay uncle who paints eyeballs on marbles and a meek 13-year-old daughter with a penchant for clubbing) and the stage manager of the theatre troupe. There is more to this mystery than just a murder, it runs deep. 

Inspector Lavardin isn’t as compelling as Cop Au Vin (a french pun for chicken vinegar and some slang), mainly due to the more conventional set-up. In this sequel, the titular character goads, trolls and openly bullies his suspects waiting for them to slip up, using underhand and blatantly illegal methods to get results. This is more interesting for its character dynamics and interactions than its mystery – however, when the perpetrator is found out, the film is, again, elevated high above its tired tropes. Chabrol & returning co-writer, Dominique Roulet, use their platform to talk about paedophilia in the elite and doing the responsible thing, law ‘be damned’. It’s an incredible last act and does a near-perfect job of expressing who this amoral detective is and what matters to him.

It would be improper to give a full opinion of this Arrow Lies and Deceit Claude Chabrol set, as Cop Au Vin and Inspector Lavardin are just two of five included titles. The remaining (Madame Bovary, Betty and In Torment) will be covered by Graham soon. Even so, off the back of these two movies, it is well worth investing as these two films present Claude Chabrol as a director who values character above all else and uses his players as tools for satire – aimed at both cinematic style and political point-making. Like Hal Ashby in the New Hollywood movement, there is a value in being contrary to your peers – a value that presents one of the most compelling characters I’ve seen in years.

ROB’S ARCHIVE – COP DU VIN (1985) & INSPECTOR LAVARDIN (1986)