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6.6/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.6/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Justin de Marseille remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have a thing for black-and-white crime dramas where everyone wears a hat and speaks with their hands, sure. It’s got that specific, moody vibe that makes you want to smoke a cigarette even if you don't smoke. But if you’re looking for fast pacing or high-octane action, skip it. You will probably find it slow, and frankly, some parts feel like they were filmed in someone’s basement.
The whole thing feels oddly intimate. It isn't like Me, Gangster where you expect the grit to hit you in the face immediately. Here, the violence feels almost accidental, like it's just something that happens between cups of coffee.
There’s a scene where the characters are just walking down a pier, and the wind is clearly messing up their hair, and nobody cares. It felt real. It’s those little moments that stick. You can see the grime on the walls, and the extras in the background look like they just wandered off the street and into the frame.
Paul Amiot carries himself like he owns the city, but it’s the supporting cast that makes the world feel lived-in. Some of the dialogue is so fast I had to rewind it twice, but maybe that’s just my French being rusty. Or maybe the sound mixing is just a bit wonky. Either way, it adds to the charm.
The movie gets noticeably better once it stops trying to explain why the gang leader is such a 'nice guy' and just lets him shoot someone.
It reminds me a bit of the pacing issues in Les Misérables, Part 2: Fantine, where the story just kind of halts to catch its breath. It’s not a masterpiece, but it has soul. It’s definitely not a polished piece of cinema, and that’s why I liked it. It feels like a rough sketch that someone decided to frame anyway. 🚬