Mandrin

Set against the jagged, unforgiving topography of the Dauphiné, Arthur Bernède’s narrative tapestry unfurls the odyssey of Louis Mandrin—a humble muleteer catalyzed into a symbol of insurrectionary defiance. The film meticulously charts his metamorphosis from a simple laborer to the architect of a sprawling brigand shadow-state, fueled by a visceral loathing for the rapacious Ferme Générale. As Mandrin’s band of outlaws systematically dismantles the fiscal machinery of the local tax collectors, the plot tightens into a claustrophobic game of cat-and-mouse. This is not merely a tale of larceny; it is a high-stakes ideological collision involving a relentless policeman and a corrupt tax collector whose personal vendettas culminate in the abduction of Mandrin’s betrothed. The cinematic journey takes an intellectual detour as Mandrin seeks sanctuary within the hallowed, philosophical walls of Voltaire’s estate, suggesting a poignant intersection between the Enlightenment’s reason and the bandit’s raw justice. Ultimately, the gears of the state prove too monolithic to grind to a halt, leading Mandrin toward a tragic, inevitable appointment with the executioner’s wheel, cementing his status as a martyr of the disenfranchised.