The opening shots of The Crook set the movie up as a cutesy musical where gangsters sing and dance as deftly as the sailors of The Young Girls of Rochefort. Despite the fact that said number was just part of a film-within-a-film, and turned out to be the only one of its kind, the excitement I felt at the prospect of a Gallic Guys and Dolls would be matched several times during the movie. Throughout the playful spirit of The Crook continued to evoke the carefree whimsy of a Demy musical, minus the lush Legrand score. The film’s structure is playfully experimental; it’s such a puzzle that I had to go back and flip through, scene by scene, to try and figure out where the story overlapped itself (I couldn’t). So seamlessly joined are the linear narrative and the flashbacks in the film that it’s tough to extrapolate one from the other, but if you can just enjoy the film like an Escher drawing, taking it as both a work of art and a brain teaser, The Crook is a great time.

Story line after story line commence and eventually trail off unsatisfactorily, but the characters introduced are so endearing, it doesn’t much matter what exactly the hell is going on. Jean-Louis Trintignant as the titular crook is as lovable and non-threatening as the lanky, grinning gangster in the film’s opening number who mows down hoods as he does a soft-shoe. Danièle Delorme, as Janine, Trintignant’s faithful partner, lover, and baby’s mama, emits low-key seductiveness, her every gesture as gentle as a muted trumpet solo; the contrast of such nonchalant performances with the madcap script makes for an intriguing mix. The film’s centerpiece is a charming vignette wherein our antihero and his accomplice execute an elaborate (and hilarious) scheme involving a fake sweepstakes and a Sacha Distel concert in order to hoodwink a naïve young couple into giving up their son. But once they have the youngster in their grips, our benign Bonnie and Clyde revel in spoiling him with toys and games beyond his wildest dreams, going so far as to take turns dressing up as Santa Claus, as they wait for the boy’s father to deliver the ransom.

This is one to watch when you’re relaxed and willing to have a good time without getting uptight over the plot being as unclear as an out-of-focus print of The Maltese Falcon. And don’t expect any insight into the labyrinthine mind of writer/director Claude Lelouch; this DVD offers no extras besides the film’s original trailer, which will only remind you how funky the music was, and how much you wish the soundtrack were available on CD.
—SARAH SILVER