Guillaume Canet’s Tell No One begins with a certain nonchalance that one wouldn’t ordinarily expect from a suspense thriller, least of all one that adapts Harlan Coben’s multi-twist mystery plotting with the brio of a distinctly Bourne-again action film. In its first minutes, the film draws us into a group of French yuppies summering enviably in woody Rambouillet. Kristin Scott-Thomas rolls a joint, someone passes a baby around, and all seems serene enough for Dr. Alex Beck to take his wife Margot for a languorous, moonlit skinny-dip at a nearby lake where they used to swim as children. How cruel it seems of Canet to ruin this moment, allowing Dr. Beck to be beaten unconscious and left naked on the dock, while Margot falls prey to a knife-wielding, cat-murdering serial killer.
Thus what begins as (and, to some extent, remains) a florid, Gallic Big Chill, soon becomes knotty and perverse, dragging its mournful hero through the pain of loss and then inauspiciously yanking him back again, eight years later, with a series of emails that may or may not be from his dead wife. “Tell no one,” she emails him (from the distinctly spam-filterable address “anonymous@nobody.org”), and with mounting hope and paranoia, he begins a quest for verite that goes from procedural to proactive very quickly.
Click here to read the rest of Leo Goldsmith’s review of Tell No One.
“Daydream delusion
Limousine eyelash
Oh, baby with your pretty face
Drop a tear in my wine glass
Look at those big eyes
See what you mean to me
Sweet cakes and milkshakes
I am delusion angel
I am fantasy parade
I want you to know what I think
Don’t want you to guess anymore
You have no idea where I am from
We have no idea where we are going
Lodged in life, like branches in the river
Flowing downstream
Caught in the current
I carry you
You’ll carry me
That’s how it could be
Don’t you know me?
Don’t you know me by now?”
Happy Valentine’s Day
Love, Reverse Shot
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