Melanie Laurent (Wingwomen) continues her increasingly prolific directorial career with Freedom (now streaming on Amazon Prime Video), a heavily styled pseudo-bio of infamous French heistmeister Bruno Sulak. Emily in Paris star Lucas Bravo plays the charismatic thief, who was known for saying please and thank you and good day, and for never hurting anyone physically, while knocking over supermarkets and jewelry stores; his early-1980s crime spree also included more than one audacious escape from police custody. For that, he earned quasi-folk-hero status, which Laurent plays up with more than a little visual poetry.
The Gist: Here’s how it works: Bruno (Bravo) gets the cashiers to hand over the cash while his partner Drago (Steve Tientcheu) handles the manager in the office with the safe. Outside, Annie (Lea Luce Busato) sits in the driver’s seat, ready to slam on the gas. Maybe they’ll get the security guard to hand over the surveillance tape and maybe Bruno will grab a lollipop for a treat, but Bruno will definitely be courteous the whole time, keeping the customers and employees calm, possibly even charmed. The cops are always a step or two or three behind them, led by the frustrated Georges Moreas (Yvan Attal), who pulls in two grocery checkers for information, and has to listen to them gush over how handsome and polite Bruno was.
But sorry, ladies, Bruno’s taken. We watch a montage of a subsequent supermarket-robbery spree and in-between the holdups, Bruno and Annie eat each other alive like succulent cupcakes. Drago’s partner Marika (Leo Chalie) arrives, and they party and plan the heists at a remote, gorgeously sundrenched villa as their headquarters. Their pal Patrick (David Murgia) arrives to help out, but he’s a bit weaselly and nervous and a robbery nearly goes sideways when his gun goes off, violating Bruno’s big rule, that you point guns at people but never, ever pull the trigger. A crook has to have standards, see. Meanwhile, Moreas stops short of pounding his desk and bellowing Bru-NOOOOOOOOOO! with every subsequent holdup.
One night, Bruno bolts awake and gets everyone up and out of the villa. Wouldn’t you know it, the cops found out where they were holed up and they were coming and they got out. His Spidey sense must’ve been righteously tingling. They meet a Yugoslavian gent named Steve (Radivoje Bukvic), who helps them in their new scheme to rob jewelry stores, which goes smashingly – until it doesn’t. Bruno gets pinched. Moreas isn’t even smug about it. In fact, there seems to be mutual admiration and respect between him and Bruno, like when Tom and Jerry are pals when they aren’t beating each other senseless with waffle irons and ballpeen hammers. At this point, we’re only 40 minutes in, so I guess the rest of the film is a prison drama then, right? Hell no! Bruno busts out, because he isn’t done stealing shit or making sweet sweaty love to Annie yet. Or sharing his thesis statement with Moreas – it has something to do with how Bruno, even if he’s imprisoned, will always be more free than Moreas. It’s always about your perspective, and whether you live your life with gusto and do what you’re good at, or are content to settle for what you get and color within the lines. Dude’s not just a damn good crook, but a philosopher, too.
What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Freedom is an oh-so-French-flavored melange of Bonnie and Clyde and American Made, with some hints of the documentary How to Rob a Bank on the back end of the flavor profile.
Performance Worth Watching: There’s more to Attal’s characterization of the frustrated-but-never-flustered cop than any other person in the film; Moreas is a bit weary but not quite cynical, and his intense desire to nab Bruno reflects the robber’s obsession right back at him.
Memorable Dialogue: Annie: “I’m not a thug’s girl, I’m with an artist. A poet, an outsider, a rebel.”
Sex and Skin: Fair amounts of butts-and-boobs steamy rutting.
Our Take: Freedom is essentially about three relationships Bruno values: The love story with Annie is sweet and sexy, and it’s easy to be enamored by the horny chemistry of these two objectively highly attractive actors, even when their relationship comes off flimsy and underwritten. Bruno’s partnership with Steve evolves into best-pals friendship, especially upon realizing how two gents can get pretty tight when they’re working together so closely and successfully; this relationship could use a little more dramatic traction, but the warmth between them gives the story a little more depth. As for the third one, between Moreas and Bruno? Their interactions never cease to be fascinating, and their relationship evolves as the movie progresses, from rivals to, for lack of a better word, friends – and therein lies the pleasant surprise of a movie about “good guys” pursuing the devil-may-care crime spree of the “bad guys.”
Yet there’s a lingering sense that Laurent – co-writing with Christophe Deslandes – wrote and shot Freedom just to see what emerges from it. Questing for the bigger story here turns up the idea that freedom is, like, a state of mind, man. That mingles with the notion that it’s not necessarily what you do but who you do it with that matters, although that doesn’t take into account how nobly never pulling the trigger doesn’t mean that someone can’t be indelibly traumatized by having a gun stuck in their face.
Laurent’s visual method is dynamic and inspired throughout, creating a freewheeling vibe that gives us a sense of the adrenaline and joy these characters experience; she tends to lean heavily on montages, but they’re far more inspired and artfully constructed than most. If the screenplay fails at anything, it’s in properly establishing and following through with the folk-hero context of Bruno’s story. But Laurent tsn’t content to stick with a just-the-facts narrative, or pass any moral judgment on these characters. She definitely lionizes Bruno, underscoring his artist’s soul, even if he’s engaging in malfeasant art. That approach, sans the archness of satire or deviant admiration, is a refreshingly, well, French way of going about it.
Our Call: Freedom features rock-solid writing, direction and performances. It moves expeditiously, and with plenty of style – and just enough substance to warrant a watch. STREAM IT.
John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.