Alain Delon is Choucas, an ex-cop turned private investigator in Paris. One morning a new client, Isabelle Pigot (Annick Alane), seeks his services: her young-adult daughter, Marthe, has been missing for a month, and Isabelle believes the police are not working diligently. Marthe didn't leave on her own free will, believes Isabelle, as she had a good life with a stable position working at an institute for the blind. Marthe is also blind. Before Isabelle can write a check, Choucas gets a visit from Coccioli (Daniel Ceccaldi), a police inspector who tells Choucas just to take this lady's check and say that he cannot find Marthe. Subsequent to taking her check, Choucas gets another visitor, Pradier (Gérard Hérold) who tells Choucas that Marthe is with his friend and has gone to another country. Pradier isn't credible, and Choucas doesn't believe his story. Isabelle summons Choucas for a meeting at the open-air Trocadero plaza where she is killed. After a couple subsequent attempts on his own life, Delon's Choucas realizes that he is not working on a simple missing-person case in Alain Delon's directorial debut, Pour la peau d'un flic (For The Death of a Cop) (1981).
By this point in his career, Delon was developing his own projects and he reunites with screenwriter, Christopher Frank (who penned the previous Parisian crime thriller with Delon, Three Men to Kill (3 hommes à abattre) the year before) for Pour la peau d'un flic. Interestingly, the film indirectly serves as a representative transitional film at the beginning of the decade. Delon is clearly the attraction in Pour la peau d'un flic, and his camera rarely leaves his character during its run time. While the film is clearly intended to be modern, Delon uses cinematically outdated investigation techniques (Choucas actually has to hit the streets and find clues; interview and interact with people; and speculate and take a chance on where to go next after finding a clue). Not only would the 1980s see technology become more focal in action cinema (bigger weapons with even bigger explosions), technology in cinema would become embraced by its investigators, forever changing their style and depiction. The classic and iconic actor imbues Pour la peau d'un flic with an old-school private-eye narrative, a classic and sometimes light comedic subplot, and action scenes, honed from repetition during the entire decade of the 1970s.
By this point in his career, Delon was developing his own projects and he reunites with screenwriter, Christopher Frank (who penned the previous Parisian crime thriller with Delon, Three Men to Kill (3 hommes à abattre) the year before) for Pour la peau d'un flic. Interestingly, the film indirectly serves as a representative transitional film at the beginning of the decade. Delon is clearly the attraction in Pour la peau d'un flic, and his camera rarely leaves his character during its run time. While the film is clearly intended to be modern, Delon uses cinematically outdated investigation techniques (Choucas actually has to hit the streets and find clues; interview and interact with people; and speculate and take a chance on where to go next after finding a clue). Not only would the 1980s see technology become more focal in action cinema (bigger weapons with even bigger explosions), technology in cinema would become embraced by its investigators, forever changing their style and depiction. The classic and iconic actor imbues Pour la peau d'un flic with an old-school private-eye narrative, a classic and sometimes light comedic subplot, and action scenes, honed from repetition during the entire decade of the 1970s.
The simple missing-person case doesn't stay simple in Pour la peau d'un flic, as it grows much wider in scope, implicating a bigger conspiracy, only growing slightly incredulous at times. Delon's Choucas enlists his good friend, Haymann (Michel Auclair) to help him in the investigation when Choucas becomes a target himself. The two veteran French actors feel like close friends, and the intimacy the two share is genuine. The majority of their scenes are dialogue,as each bounces ideas and questions off the other as to how to proceed in the investigation. Then there are really clever scenes with the two, as when Choucas has a subdued suspect before him, he tells Haymann to get a hammer. Haymann just slightly nods, well-familiar as to what Choucas is going to do to the man. When Choucas has a gun pointed at him and looks as if his adversary has the upper hand, it is Haymann who pops in right on time in aiding Delon's character.
The real attraction besides Delon, in my opinion, in Pour la peau d'un flic is the character Charlotte, Choucas's secretary, played by Anne Parillaud. About a decade later, she would blow cinema's door off the hinges in Luc Besson's nearly pitch-perfect La Femme Nikita (1990). Her screen presence is quite powerful, and one gets the impression while watching Pour la peau d'un flic that she is underused, despite appearing in nearly the entire picture. The romantic subplot involving Delon and Parillaud is well developed, as the events become more intense in the picture, the two begin to reveal their feelings for each other. A lot of the humor in the film comes from these scenes, and unfortunately her character's English-dubbing (of the version that I saw from an HK DVD) is terrible and most of it is lost. Delon adeptly knows how charismatic and beautiful the young actress is and doesn't spare her close-ups. Parillaud is a fantastic actress and she brings more energy to the film than the action scenes. The classic romantic comedy is dated, yet both Delon and Parillaud are able to carry it with their charisma and chemistry alone.
I've seen seemingly a million crime films, and despite the familiarity of the narrative of Pour la peau d'un flic, I really cannot tire watching Delon acting super cool and taking on the bad guys. Even dubbed in English, when he makes smart-aleck remarks during a high-speed car chase, Delon is cool. When sitting in a cafe and having coffee and smoking Gitanes, Delon is cool. He's so cool that he cast this beautiful young actress in a small and welcomed part:
Pour la peau d'un flic shows a lot of the magic of the waning days of this cinema. A must-see for Delon fans (and Parillaud fans and don't be surprised when it's her that stays with you after viewing).
In an opening sequence at a chateau outside of Paris, a group of old white men in dapper suits are watching a promotional film for a jet fighter with a new missile capability. The group concludes their meeting with the possibility of a sale of the armaments, but there are grumbles from three of the group as to the possible quality of the goods. Nonetheless, they disband peacefully as the evening has grown late. As one of the group leaves the chateau en route to Paris, he passes a slow-moving car which Michel Gerfaut (Delon) is driving. Gerfaut waves the car by and then allows another speeding car to pass him. Gerfaut stops when he sees the first car crashed against a tree and takes the injured driver to the hospital. Gerfaut does not know the identity of the driver, nor did the man say anything to him. Gerfaut leaves the hospital without giving his name and drives to his poker game in Paris. The injured man is dead from not an accident but from two bullets, and the two men who killed the driver now know Gerfaut's involved (found his identification in his car).


I love the action scenes in Three Men to Kill and my man-crush for Delon does not wane. His trademark stoic and icy appearance becomes a true asset to his character, and Deray, his frequent collaborator, uses Delon's acting ability well. The peephole hit is a terrific sequence, as are some of the subsequent kills, including a very, very cold and intense one in a hospital bathroom. A good bit of subtle humor is thrown into mix, concerning Gerfaut's identity, and it's a welcome foil to the sometimes intense sequences. Dalila Di Lazzaro's Bea is a wonderful accompanying character to Gerfaut: she's easy-going and breezy but deeply loves Gerfaut and really shows it in a particular scene. Three Men to Kill escalates to its totally unexpected conclusion, and I love the final scene, which just put a big smile on my face. Deray's style and dark humor is not for everyone, but I think the underrated director is quite talented. The unassuming Three Men to Kill ranks as a Delon favorite. See it.



Italian genre director, Duccio Tessari, like his contemporaries, made films in multiple genres and his work, today, is perhaps underappreciated. Tessari directed two of the finest Italian Westerns ever made, both with Giuliano Gemma, A Pistol for Ringo (1965) and The Return of Ringo (1965) (both scripted, incidentally, by Fernando di Leo, perhaps the finest director of Italian crime films). Tessari made a terrific giallo in 1971, The Bloodstained Butterfly, before Tony Arzenta. Subsequent to Arzenta, Tessari made the excellent and entertaining Tough Guys (1974), with Lino Ventura, Isaac Hayes, William Berger, and Fred Williamson. Tessari's action choreography, his compositions, and his pacing are all extremely well-done in Arzenta, and arguably, this film is his finest accomplishment as a director.