My review was written in January 1991 after watching the film on Prism video cassette.
Claude Chabrol goes sci-fi with depressing results in "Dr. M", an already dated 1989 European production that opened in Paris last November but reaches the U.. in video stores and retitled "Club Extinction".
Film is inspired by Fritz Lang's classic "Dr. Mabuse" features, but Chabrol clearly is not comfortable with this form. The dialog is stilted, and many scenes are designed for somnambulist acting more suited to the expressionism of Robert Wiene's "Dr. Caligari" than Lang's work.
Alan Bates plays two roles: the title Dr. Marsfeldt, head of a German media conglomerate, and (uncredited) a white bearded guru who lords it over a Marsfeldt-owned resort Club Theratos that's closer to Jim Jones' Jonestown than Club Med. As the guru, he talks in a funny voice and hams it up embarrassingly.
The Berlin Wall is used throughout "Dr. M" as a metaphor for modern malaise, its presence contaminating the stry's Berliners in a way now hopelessly dated since the wall was torn down. Using tv spokesmodel Jennifer Beals as his main instrument, Dr. M is causing Berliners to commit suicide by sending out subliminal messges over the airwaves beneath broadcasts exhorting folks to escape for a vaction at Theratos.
Jan Niklas plays the dogged police investigor trying to make sense of the rash of suicides, all of which point at Beals' involvemetn. He predictably falls in love with her and ultimately accompanies her to Theratos for an anticlimactic ending.
Except for repetitive use of an annoying noise-song by Mekong Delta to suggest the anomie of folks at a local nightclub, "Dr. M" is easy to watch. Best performance is by Hanns Zischler, erstwhile co-star of Wim Wenders' "Kings of the Road", who has honed his English dialog delivery to perfection.
Guest star Andrew McCarthy, who toplined Chabrol's "Quiet Days in Clichy", pops up briefly as an assassin.
