For this viewer at any rate the only two film versions of his novels that have captured the bleakness of Jim Thompson's world vision have been directed by Frenchmen.
Alain Corneau had hoped to film 'Cop 1280' but that was to be done two years later by Tavernier as 'Coup de Torchon' so Corneau and writer Georges Perec set about the task of adapting Thompson's 'A hell of a Woman' and transposing the setting from '50's America to 70's France.
The cinematographer on both films is Pierre-William Glenn.
Described by one critic as 'an excursion into Hell' this unutterably seedy, squalid, desolate, depressing, misanthropic and one would have to say, mesmerising piece, did not fare too well when first released but has since acquired cult status, mainly due to Patrick Dewaere's electrifying performance as the deranged Franck Poupart.
By all accounts Corneau would only consider Dewaere for the role and one can fully understand why. This talented actor was evidently a troubled soul whose inner darkness makes his portrayal terrifyingly real and one shudders to think just how much this performance must have taken out of him.
There are two women in Franck's life, his unpredictable wife Jeanne played by Myriam Boyer and the autistic prostitute Mona of Marie Trintignant whose mother Nadine happened to be Dewaere's partner at the time. Marie was sixteen and one wonders how her mother, or indeed her father Jean-Louis, felt about her first scene in which she bares all. Corneau later commented that working on this uncompromisingly adult film may have left its mark on her. Bertolucci said the same thing about Maria Schneider in 'Last Tango in Paris' but of course it is easy for a director to be sympathetic in hindsight.
Excellent performances from a small but select cast notably Bernard Blier whose son Bertrand had already directed Dewaere in two films.
The title 'Série Noire' is especially apt as it was the name of the publishing imprint which introduced Thompson's hard boiled works to French readers. It also loosely translates as 'run of bad luck' which in the case of Poupart is something of an understatement.
This film is not an easy watch but is essential viewing for all true cinéphiles and ranks as one of Corneau's finest. It is even more poignant in light of the tragic fate that befell both Patrick Dewaere and Marie Trintignant.
It seems appropriate here to mention that Jean-Louis Trintignant, one of France's greatest post-War actors, shuffled off this mortal coil in June of this year.
Alain Corneau had hoped to film 'Cop 1280' but that was to be done two years later by Tavernier as 'Coup de Torchon' so Corneau and writer Georges Perec set about the task of adapting Thompson's 'A hell of a Woman' and transposing the setting from '50's America to 70's France.
The cinematographer on both films is Pierre-William Glenn.
Described by one critic as 'an excursion into Hell' this unutterably seedy, squalid, desolate, depressing, misanthropic and one would have to say, mesmerising piece, did not fare too well when first released but has since acquired cult status, mainly due to Patrick Dewaere's electrifying performance as the deranged Franck Poupart.
By all accounts Corneau would only consider Dewaere for the role and one can fully understand why. This talented actor was evidently a troubled soul whose inner darkness makes his portrayal terrifyingly real and one shudders to think just how much this performance must have taken out of him.
There are two women in Franck's life, his unpredictable wife Jeanne played by Myriam Boyer and the autistic prostitute Mona of Marie Trintignant whose mother Nadine happened to be Dewaere's partner at the time. Marie was sixteen and one wonders how her mother, or indeed her father Jean-Louis, felt about her first scene in which she bares all. Corneau later commented that working on this uncompromisingly adult film may have left its mark on her. Bertolucci said the same thing about Maria Schneider in 'Last Tango in Paris' but of course it is easy for a director to be sympathetic in hindsight.
Excellent performances from a small but select cast notably Bernard Blier whose son Bertrand had already directed Dewaere in two films.
The title 'Série Noire' is especially apt as it was the name of the publishing imprint which introduced Thompson's hard boiled works to French readers. It also loosely translates as 'run of bad luck' which in the case of Poupart is something of an understatement.
This film is not an easy watch but is essential viewing for all true cinéphiles and ranks as one of Corneau's finest. It is even more poignant in light of the tragic fate that befell both Patrick Dewaere and Marie Trintignant.
It seems appropriate here to mention that Jean-Louis Trintignant, one of France's greatest post-War actors, shuffled off this mortal coil in June of this year.