Le crime du Bouif: A dusty, weird, and charming relic

Is this thing worth your time?

Honestly, unless you have a strange obsession with early thirties French talkies, you might find this one a bit of a slog. It’s for the folks who like their movies to feel like a dusty stage play found in an attic. If you’re looking for snappy editing or modern pacing, run away now. You will hate it. If you like watching Tramel try to carry an entire investigation on his shoulders while looking perpetually confused? You might be the target audience.

The whole thing feels like it’s held together by duct tape and sheer willpower. There are moments where the dialogue just sort of drifts off into the ether, and you’re left watching the background actors look around for their next cue. It’s not smooth. But sometimes that’s better than watching something like The Expert where everything feels like it’s been polished to death.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Le crime du Bouif (1933) through its definitive frames.

Odd little details I caught:

• There’s a scene in a shop that goes on for about three minutes too long. You can literally hear someone breathing near the microphone.
• The lighting choices are… a mood. Sometimes it’s bright, then suddenly we’re in a cave. It’s very 1933.
• The way the actors look at the camera when they think nobody is paying attention is just gold.

It’s not trying to be Pack Up Your Troubles with its tight gags. It’s just, well, it's just Le crime du Bouif. It doesn't care if you get the jokes or not. There’s a certain freedom in that, right?

Sometimes the movie hits a stride where it almost feels like a real mystery, and then someone drops a prop and you remember you’re watching a movie from ninety years ago. It’s fine. I didn’t hate it. I actually kind of liked that it didn't try to impress me. It just exists. That's enough for a Sunday afternoon when the Wi-Fi is acting up anyway. 👞📽️