May 4, 2001 | Lots of directors seek inspiration in the classics of Alfred Hitchcock – did somebody say Brian De Palma? – but relatively few actually learn the right lessons from their intense studying of the master’s masterworks. On the strength of With a Friend Like Harry…, however, I’d be willing to rate Dominik Moll as an especially observant and perceptive student, pretty close to the top of the class.
The German-born, French-based filmmaker takes a genuinely Hitchcockian approach to evoking a mounting sense of dread in his darkly fascinating tale of deception and obsession. With equal measures of cunning subtlety and subversive black comedy, he generates suspense without spilling buckets of blood, while at the same time keeping us alert and uneasy by suggesting the worst things imaginable might happen at any moment.
Things begin slowly, even prosaically, as we meet Michel (Laurent Lucas), a deeply discontented family man, at the start of what promises to be a holiday in hell. He’s driving, in the middle of a sweltering heatwave, to a summer home that probably was advertised as “a fixer-upper,” but has turned into a bottomless money pit. Also along for the ride: Claire (Mathilde Seigner), his equally unhappy wife, and their three squalling infant daughters.
During a brief stop at a rest area, Michel has a chance encounter with Harry (Sergi Lopez), a former classmate. Michel doesn’t recognize the guy – and when introduced, doesn’t recall ever knowing him — but Harry remembers everything about Michel. In fact, he can recite from memory a poem Michel wrote back in school all those years ago. And he’s very, very eager to learn how far Michel has progressed as a writer. When Michel admits that he hasn’t written anything in ages – that he barely completed the first chapter of a sci-fi novel, then set aside the project to get on with his life – Harry is unaccountably upset. He offers to help Michel fulfill his early promise. Michel is flattered. Unfortunately, he isn’t suspicious as well.
During this initial encounter, Moll tips his hat to the Master of Suspense by slyly hinting at the same sort of vaguely homoerotic tension that percolated just below the surface of Hitchcock’s Strangers on a Train. (The title, of course, could be read as a reference to another of the master’s movies, The Trouble With Harry.) Elsewhere, however, Moll just as deftly implies that Harry may be a projection of Michel’s deepest, darkest desires: Someone willing to do whatever it takes to free him from a life of not-so-quiet desperation.
Accompanied by Plum (Sophie Guillemin), his voluptuous girlfriend, Harry visits Michel’s summer home, intent on insinuating himself into his old classmate’s good graces. Any problems? Well, in the translated words of the movie’s original French title: Harry, he’s here to help. Need a new car? No problem. Harry just happens to be wealthy enough to impulsively buy one for his buddy. Any distractions? Don’t worry. Harry is willing to remove any obstacles that might prevent Michel from completing his novel.
Trouble is, Harry views his friend’s wife, children and parents as the most troublesome impediments.
It’s more than a little unsettling, and at the same time perversely amusing, to see how affable, deferential and even rational Harry remains as he goes about his self-appointed tasks. (How far does he go? Sorry, those beans won’t be spilled here.) Sergi Lopez earned a Cesar, the French equivalent of an Academy Award, for his chillingly persuasive performance, and the beauty of his work is his scrupulous avoidance of the obvious. His Harry is the most ingratiating sociopath to appear in a movie since Matt Damon took a walk on the wild side in The Talented Mr. Ripley. Better still, because Lopez is such an ordinary-looking fellow, so thoroughly lacking in conventional star quality, he comes off as even more artfully insidious than Damon’s tarnished golden boy.
And speaking of insidiousness: The real horror in Harry isn’t the methodical madness of its title character. Rather, the most troubling element is the movie’s insinuation that – subconsciously or otherwise – Michel (effectively underplayed by Lucas) might really want to hack away at the ties that bind him. Not unlike the blocked writer in Stephen King’s (and, yes, Stanley Kubrick’s) The Shining, he may deeply resent having to shoulder the responsibilities of being a husband and father. He would never act on his worst impulses, of course. But, then again, he doesn’t have to, not while Harry is around.
So there you have it: A morally ambiguous protagonist, a beguilingly personable antagonist, and ample opportunity for transference of guilt. All the hallmarks of a classic Hitchcock thriller. The master would certainly approve.
