Tomorrow we'll have Saturday Random Ten. You probably knew that already.
Nothing to do with that, but on balance I'm kind of relieved the No's won in the Scottish independence vote. It's been said credibly that it's England pulling the UK to the right at this point while Scotland is the opposite. I look at it from the perspective of Wales. Cambrians must have been saying to Scotland, "Oh no, you're not leaving us alone with them!"
Nothing to do with that, but the home-viewing movie for tonight was La Rupture, a title that's been translated as "The Breech" and "The Break-Up". It's about a young Belgian mother who leaves with her son when her husband attacks her and the boy. Her father-in-law wants to ruin her so that she'll get nothing in the divorce, so he hires the dissolute son of one of his old colleagues to find dirt on her. On no account is he to manufacture evidence, wink wink.
This is the first film I've ever seen directed by Claude Chabrol. A French New Wave figure, he's known to be influenced by Alfred Hitchcock, which I could see. His style is a little reminiscent of Roman Polanski too, but with a different focus. Villains in Polanski films tend to be highly effective. Noah Cross in Chinatown effectively rules the world, never mind his abused daughters. The Satanists in Rosemary's Baby have it all under control too. La Rupture, by contrast, is a tale of evil upper class twits. Operative Paul Thomas does bad shit, and he and his fanservice-gone-wild ladyfriend do some damage. Yet they have an eerie ability to hit everything except their intended target. All goes to the black comedy.