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French actor director Guillaume Canet demonstrates in this convoluted thriller why not many filmmakers other than Chabrol can get away with imitating Hitchcock. Did Chabrol or Hitchcock resort to the narrative gaucherie of a flashback within a flashback from a different point of view? Devoid of all elegance, Canet has no such qualms because he has a lot of exposition to unload. It starts with Dr. Alex Beck (François Cluzet) and his wife, Margot (Marie-Josée Croze), having a nasty run-in while skinny-dipping. She walks off in a naked huff, he gets knocked cold, she’s found dead, and the murder is attributed to a serial killer. Eight years later, the killer denies responsibility, the cops investigate Alex, he gets a mystery e-mail, and the bodies pile up — as does the cast of characters, which includes two distraught dads, a lesbian sister, a snooty rich guy, crooked cops, etc. Along with elegance, Canet has forsworn irony, suspense, and empathy. Which makes this one big MacGuffin. French | 125 minutes | Kendall Square + Coolidge Corner + West Newton
