Thérèse Raquin (AKA: The Adultress) is directed by Marcel Carné and Carné co-adapts the screenplay with Charles Spaak from the Émile Zola novel. It stars Simone Signoret, Raf Vallone, Jacques Duby, Maria Pia Casilio and Roland Lesaffre. Music is by Maurice Thiriet and cinematography by Roger Hubert.
Carné reworks Zola's novel to be set in post-war Lyon and slips into a film noir gear. Plot essentially finds Signoret as Raquin, a severely repressed woman stuck in a marriage to her wimpy weasel of a cousin, not only that but she also has to share a home with his domineering mother. Then one day the strapping Laurent LeClaire (Vallone) enters her life, sparking a fiery affair, but as plans for the future are plotted, a turn of events drastically changes everything.
The characterisations are strongly performed, the five principals (Lesaffre arrives late in the play as a key character) giving performances that really draw you into their respective worlds, for better or worse as regards the human condition. Carné skillfully blends the beautiful side of Lyon, such as the quaint cobbled streets and the River Rhone, with a dull bleakness that fogs Thérèse, a woman who has forgotten how to smile, sexual fulfilment a non entity. Hubert also brings his photographic skills to the show, providing some blisteringly gorgeous night shots that offer hope for the new found lovers. But there is a sign post up ahead and it says that the next stop is noirville, and after having spent half the film building his characters, Carné dashes hope and replaces it with misery. Fate plays a big part in the crux aspects of the film, a film noir staple of course, right up to the clinical finale that comes with a thunderous fait accompli.
It's a bit draggy in parts as the director is at pains to show the humdrum side of life, but the change of gear at the mid-point - and the brilliant last quarter, make this a worthy addition for collectors of Frenchie noir. 8/10
