One sees "crime film" or "crime thriller" and assumes a certain somber, authentic tone. Let's get this out of the way at the top: 'Dobermann' is effectively a comic book come to life. Everything about it is wildly exaggerated and over the top, not with a mind for comedy but simply pure outrageous bluster. This exists somewhere on a spectrum between "B-movie" and "cartoon," except realized with about as much seriousness as any such creation could be, not to mention major violence. In some of the stylization one is reminded of slick modern heist flicks or comparable action-crime titles, especially with cheeky editing. But even from the very first moments the film operates with an absurdly overcooked sense of color and flavor that would be beyond all reason if not for how carefully calculated it all is. I think it's safe to say one has to be on board with features of such a zestful nature in the first place to possibly enjoy this, and at some points it manages to be too over the top for its own good. Imperfect though it may be, however, much more than not it's pretty fun!
The story at large may carry some familiar strains, and either that narrative thrust or the humor that's peppered throughout is surely the least overdone aspect of the whole picture. Otherwise? Joël Houssin has penned scenes that are consistently cacophonous kaleidoscopes all on their own in building that story. The costume design, hair, and makeup are only slightly less flamboyant than 'Dick Tracy,' matching characterizations, dialogue, and acting that are only slightly less overblown than film adaptations of Frank Miller. Primarily, for all the great skill we know they possess, we've seen Vincent Cassel gleefully chew scenery before, but not like this; if Monica Bellucci has ever gone wholly overboard elsewhere the way she does as Nat, then that's definitely something I need to see. Stunts, effects, and all manner of violence are as immoderate as they could be (and nonetheless look great all around); the production design and art direction are marginally more conventional, but still wackily whimsical after a certain gnarly fashion. Michel Amathieu's cinematography is rich and vibrant in and of itself, yet also taken to significant extremes at points; Jan Kounen's direction swerves hard between smart and clever, and brazenly forthright. Even the music seems supercharged, though to be fair, maybe the effect is heightened on account of the imagery it accompanies. And none of this is sloppy or accidental; exorbitant though the presentation may be, make no mistake that 'Dobermann' is executed with deft capability.
It feels noteworthy and important to spotlight the nigh-total extravagance above all. Not just because of its prominence in the movie, but also for those ways in which it becomes altogether excessive at times, or takes precedence over other facets. Specifically, the embellishment pointedly washes over the narrative writing. For all the details that garnish the proceedings, all the same the plot is scarcely more then "there are career criminals, and some police are trying to bring them down"; as satisfying as the climax is, and its resolution, the ending is less so in its curtness. More persistently nagging are those inclusions that are so intemperate as to become self-indulgent. This includes and is not limited to how some characters are written (Manu, Mosquito) or portrayed (Romain Duris, Antoine Basler, Tchéky Karyo); some choices of direction or camerawork; and some of the attempted humor, including crass toilet jokes. Even the scene to greet us over the opening credits is a huge step too far, making a bad first impression before the film begins in earnest. A modicum of restraint, in only a few select instances, would have only benefited the title broadly without impacting the general tenor. To that point, content warnings are necessary for homophobia, transphobia, prejudice and discrimination against sex workers, police brutality, and more. Yes, these elements are part and parcel of the tale at hand, as Dobermann and his gang are brutal but the police are genuinely far more villainous, all too plainly mirroring real life. Be that as it may, the manner in which these traits are teased out in the storytelling is a tad wanton, to the point of sometimes being unwelcome rather than entertaining.
The worst instances of overload are unfortunate in how they serve to detract from the bombast, and one wishes that the writing were fleshed out with more complexity and detail. With minimal alteration, this could have been even more enjoyable than it already is. Still, even through the more questionable points this is a good time overall; that's all it was meant to be, and that's all it needs to be. It might even have a leg up on no few mega-millions Hollywood blockbusters that are overindulgent in their own ways, but that also forget to have fun along the way. No matter how you slice it I don't think this could ever be described as a must-see, unless perhaps one is a big fan of Cassel, Bellucci, or someone else involved. If you do happen to come across 'Dobermann,' however, there are far worse ways to spend one's time; be aware of what you're getting into, and those ways in its it particularly falters, but this is a ridiculous romp of French cinema that's worth checking out.
The story at large may carry some familiar strains, and either that narrative thrust or the humor that's peppered throughout is surely the least overdone aspect of the whole picture. Otherwise? Joël Houssin has penned scenes that are consistently cacophonous kaleidoscopes all on their own in building that story. The costume design, hair, and makeup are only slightly less flamboyant than 'Dick Tracy,' matching characterizations, dialogue, and acting that are only slightly less overblown than film adaptations of Frank Miller. Primarily, for all the great skill we know they possess, we've seen Vincent Cassel gleefully chew scenery before, but not like this; if Monica Bellucci has ever gone wholly overboard elsewhere the way she does as Nat, then that's definitely something I need to see. Stunts, effects, and all manner of violence are as immoderate as they could be (and nonetheless look great all around); the production design and art direction are marginally more conventional, but still wackily whimsical after a certain gnarly fashion. Michel Amathieu's cinematography is rich and vibrant in and of itself, yet also taken to significant extremes at points; Jan Kounen's direction swerves hard between smart and clever, and brazenly forthright. Even the music seems supercharged, though to be fair, maybe the effect is heightened on account of the imagery it accompanies. And none of this is sloppy or accidental; exorbitant though the presentation may be, make no mistake that 'Dobermann' is executed with deft capability.
It feels noteworthy and important to spotlight the nigh-total extravagance above all. Not just because of its prominence in the movie, but also for those ways in which it becomes altogether excessive at times, or takes precedence over other facets. Specifically, the embellishment pointedly washes over the narrative writing. For all the details that garnish the proceedings, all the same the plot is scarcely more then "there are career criminals, and some police are trying to bring them down"; as satisfying as the climax is, and its resolution, the ending is less so in its curtness. More persistently nagging are those inclusions that are so intemperate as to become self-indulgent. This includes and is not limited to how some characters are written (Manu, Mosquito) or portrayed (Romain Duris, Antoine Basler, Tchéky Karyo); some choices of direction or camerawork; and some of the attempted humor, including crass toilet jokes. Even the scene to greet us over the opening credits is a huge step too far, making a bad first impression before the film begins in earnest. A modicum of restraint, in only a few select instances, would have only benefited the title broadly without impacting the general tenor. To that point, content warnings are necessary for homophobia, transphobia, prejudice and discrimination against sex workers, police brutality, and more. Yes, these elements are part and parcel of the tale at hand, as Dobermann and his gang are brutal but the police are genuinely far more villainous, all too plainly mirroring real life. Be that as it may, the manner in which these traits are teased out in the storytelling is a tad wanton, to the point of sometimes being unwelcome rather than entertaining.
The worst instances of overload are unfortunate in how they serve to detract from the bombast, and one wishes that the writing were fleshed out with more complexity and detail. With minimal alteration, this could have been even more enjoyable than it already is. Still, even through the more questionable points this is a good time overall; that's all it was meant to be, and that's all it needs to be. It might even have a leg up on no few mega-millions Hollywood blockbusters that are overindulgent in their own ways, but that also forget to have fun along the way. No matter how you slice it I don't think this could ever be described as a must-see, unless perhaps one is a big fan of Cassel, Bellucci, or someone else involved. If you do happen to come across 'Dobermann,' however, there are far worse ways to spend one's time; be aware of what you're getting into, and those ways in its it particularly falters, but this is a ridiculous romp of French cinema that's worth checking out.