Wow, I loved typing “Spoorloos” up there.
Everybody whines about cultural homogenization, but ya know what? This here’s a thriller in which a serial killer’s signature move is to bury his gorgeous female victims in gorgeous forest glades alongside gorgeous eviscerated dogs; it is acknowledged that children have erotic lives; doctors smoke; and the hero arrives at the climactic scene in a Volvo station wagon, walks through a meadow dripping in honeyed sunlight, finds the tree in which he and his childhood girlfriend carved their names, drops to his knees, and cries.
There will always be a France.
Nothing spectacular here, but a perfectly respectable night at the movies.