VENICE 2021: Madeleine Collins
VENICEAntoine Barraud's Madeleine Collins feels straight out of a paperback melodramatic romance novel one reads while waiting to fly from an airport. It is a quick, often ridiculously over the top, yet wonderfully entertaining procedure that needs no more than two brain cells to fight together for dominance. Granted, the major exploit for those who have not yet seen Paul Verhoeven's Benedetta is that Barraud's feature has the noticeable application of that of Virginie Efira, which is a sure-fire for audiences on seats.
As stated above, the considerable indicator to be immersed within this feature is the performance of Efira. The actress is undeniably sophisticated and well versed within this medium, and the showcasing here of not only range but emotive depth is at a considerably outstanding degree. This role, with significant internal layers, curates a dynamic stance, and Efira crafts a tender but undoubtedly inviting morality. One that will ask its audiences dark and often disturbing questions with a response that might be surprising to hear.
The best descriptor to explain such a performance inside this feature is that of having an engine of a Ferarri inside a Ford Focus. The substance aside from Efira is relatively nonexistent and borderline silly. The feature’s thematics offer an interesting, subverted angle not too dissimilar to that of the male affair convention so routinely seen. However, Barraud's film just never does anything with it. For almost two hours, Madeleine Collins goes back and forth and spars with the idea of anxiety and intensity of its plot but leaves much to be desired.
So much so, in fact, that Barraud's feature has no idea what direction to take with its narrative. Around seventy minutes, the film shows its hand, an element that would have undeniably crafted a more substantial payoff if it had been reserved. However, it is clear that Barraud showcases such for more of an emotional gut-punch, and the director gets his wish with the emotive substance that is crafted, but what is left for at least another fifteen minutes of the feature’s running time is flat filler that leads nowhere and begins to bridge a gap into a conversation existential mental illness crisis. A concern that, thankfully, is finished before it can truly tale shape but is undeniably present throughout.
Ultimately, Madeleine Collins is simplistic, melodramatic entertainment. Its narrative crafts a basic albeit over the top and ridiculous motif, yet a strong central performance from actor Virginie Efira manages just about to keep the head of this film above the water, but it is barely managing to stay afloat.
