"The smell of death. Soap won't help. When I get home, I undress in the corridor and count to sixty, so I don't bring this shit home"(Astride talks about clearing his mind and body after attending a particularly horrifying domestic incident).
For me, Police is a drama with potential that never pulls it off. Whether that is because there are too many un-answered questions about plot and script, or simply that the drama fizzles rather than pops, I'm not quite sure. Maybe through reflection via this blog, I'll uncover the answers.
Put simply, we spend the better part of 24 hours with Virginie (Virginie Efira), Aristide (Omar Sy) and Erik (Gregory Gadebios),Paris police officers, all with loneliness issues. These are brought to our attention in chapter form in parallel time frames from different POV's early in the film. Our main characters opt to take overtime and transport a political prisoner to the airport for deportation. The political prisoner Tohirov (Payman Maadi) is a mystery in every way. The method Anne Fontaine (TheInnocents) used to elicit compassion for Tohirov is clunky and further reason for the limp ending.
It becomes obvious, during the drive with Tohirov in tow, that our cops are feeling compromised. Are they transporting this man they know so little about to a certain death? Do they play God here? The cast is great. Efira's beauty emphasised in close-ups along with Sy and Gadebios' fragile personas' all set in the claustrophobic confines of a car meandering through the streets of Paris has us intrigued at all times. It's why I so badly wanted this little potboiler to be really good, it just isn't. 7GUMS.
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