The beginning of the last chapter in the adventures of Jean Lavardin shows the latter in a situation close to holidays: fishing. Alas for him, a young woman Bernadette asks him to find her sister Christine who mysteriously disappeared in an imposing castle located in Portugal. Whether he likes or not, Lavardin agrees and settles in the edifice where he notices that the inhabitants display a strange behavious to say the least.
After Claude Chabrol, Christian de Chalonge took the reins to put into pictures this ultimate investigation from one of the most originally recognizable cops in French cinema culture and like le Diable en Ville, the result has nothing to envy the two other episodes shot by the author of la Femme Infidèle (1969). Let's be frank even sacrilegious. The two installments made by De Chalonge turn out to be highly superior to l'Escargot Noir and Maux Croisés. Very often with made-for-tv movies, the lack of time and money often prevent directors to fully develop their subjects (Chabrol sometimes complained about this handicap in his career) but here, De Chalonge presents a complete, neat work.
Nevertheless and without a doubt, le Château du Pendu is the wildest episode in the miniseries. The madness and incongruity that wrapped the previous chapters is in full swing here. Under the cover charge of a traditional detective story, Lavardin confronts himself to a gallery of demented weirdoes, haunting an awesome castle filled with stuffed animals and disturbing sounds. Among the maladjusted suspects: a disfigured baroness who keeps on playing the same music air, a former doctor who became a watchmaker, an apparently drugged young man who remains confined in bed, a couple of servants who act as if nothing happened. Precisely, what the hell is happening? How are these protagonists linked to Christine's abduction and the history of this castle?
De Chalonge brings back the ingredients that gave the miniseries its original credibility with gusto once again. Jean Poiret's funnily witty lines and inappropriate behaviour always walk hand in hand. The rest of the cast play the game without taking their roles too seriously. And above all, the scenery have never been so well exploited which enable the camera to anchor them in a surrealistic atmosphere. The tv movie was judiciously shot at the Pena castle in Portugal and its somewhat isolated situation on top of a mountain adds to the quirky feel of the whole. At a pinch the detective intrigue takes a back seat for the benefit of this extremely offbeat ambiance. If it was the filmmaker's intention, it was a shrewd one for it helped le Château du Pendu to forge its own imagery narrative. In fact, the episodes of the miniseries were treated in such a peculiar manner that each of them came out with its own identity .
Who knows where this miniseries might have led Inspector Lavardin. Indeed, a fifth episode was in the pipeline but it never saw the light of day. Let's leave the last words to Chabrol: "we had an excellent scenario but Jean (Poiret) died in March 1992 and it was of course, out of the question to direct it without him".
After Claude Chabrol, Christian de Chalonge took the reins to put into pictures this ultimate investigation from one of the most originally recognizable cops in French cinema culture and like le Diable en Ville, the result has nothing to envy the two other episodes shot by the author of la Femme Infidèle (1969). Let's be frank even sacrilegious. The two installments made by De Chalonge turn out to be highly superior to l'Escargot Noir and Maux Croisés. Very often with made-for-tv movies, the lack of time and money often prevent directors to fully develop their subjects (Chabrol sometimes complained about this handicap in his career) but here, De Chalonge presents a complete, neat work.
Nevertheless and without a doubt, le Château du Pendu is the wildest episode in the miniseries. The madness and incongruity that wrapped the previous chapters is in full swing here. Under the cover charge of a traditional detective story, Lavardin confronts himself to a gallery of demented weirdoes, haunting an awesome castle filled with stuffed animals and disturbing sounds. Among the maladjusted suspects: a disfigured baroness who keeps on playing the same music air, a former doctor who became a watchmaker, an apparently drugged young man who remains confined in bed, a couple of servants who act as if nothing happened. Precisely, what the hell is happening? How are these protagonists linked to Christine's abduction and the history of this castle?
De Chalonge brings back the ingredients that gave the miniseries its original credibility with gusto once again. Jean Poiret's funnily witty lines and inappropriate behaviour always walk hand in hand. The rest of the cast play the game without taking their roles too seriously. And above all, the scenery have never been so well exploited which enable the camera to anchor them in a surrealistic atmosphere. The tv movie was judiciously shot at the Pena castle in Portugal and its somewhat isolated situation on top of a mountain adds to the quirky feel of the whole. At a pinch the detective intrigue takes a back seat for the benefit of this extremely offbeat ambiance. If it was the filmmaker's intention, it was a shrewd one for it helped le Château du Pendu to forge its own imagery narrative. In fact, the episodes of the miniseries were treated in such a peculiar manner that each of them came out with its own identity .
Who knows where this miniseries might have led Inspector Lavardin. Indeed, a fifth episode was in the pipeline but it never saw the light of day. Let's leave the last words to Chabrol: "we had an excellent scenario but Jean (Poiret) died in March 1992 and it was of course, out of the question to direct it without him".