(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A well-known politician woman receives a tape showing her son in a porno movie. She decides to hire a female detective to figure out who is trying to black-mail her.”
Readers, I am not going to pretend that I understood all of the messaging that unfurled across Don’t Change Hands’ 86-minute running time. While there is a sense that writer/director Paul Vecchiali was trying to say something about the political and social structure of his native France of a certain time and a certain place, Hands still avoids doubling-down on anything specifically other than the somewhat obvious slights thrown at politicians who are suckling at the government teat while perhaps ignoring some of the social norms tied to the constituency they represent. That’s a pretty bland generalization, I realize, but Hands does stretch beyond the conventional with its rather unconventional depiction of fairly graphic sex along the way. Nearly everyone in here has his or her hands dirty; and – yes! – that winds up being in more ways than one.
The film opens with an obvious pornographic film detailing – in grainy black-and-white – some modest shenanigans between a rather non-descript man and woman. This should be the first sign to viewers that the narrative is being framed in such a way suggesting exploitation (of a certain type) lies at the center of everything that’s to follow. It does, so that’s fair warning to all involved to know that there’s going to be a consistent parade of skin – some of it hardcore – so be prepared for what’s coming. (Yes: that pun was intended.) Eventually, the opening credits fade, and the sound of a running projector is all we’re left with until two ladies come out of the darkness to discuss what all of this truly means.
As a loose neo-noir (of which it’s pretty clear that is the genre Vecchiali was shooting for with this), the film works capably, though I thought the whole affair could’ve benefitted from a bit more story instead of delivering what it did mostly with scraps. Françoise Bourgeois (played by Hélène Surgère) is the politician who has been approached by blackmailers threatening to release this pornographic film starring her adult son Alain (Jean-Christophe Bouvet). Though she initially states that she’s not all that concerned about the extortion and is willing to pay whatever price, Bourgeois does admit that such exposure would impede her possible political future. Her explanation implies that such activity comes as a price for being in her social class, and yet she’d still have it curtailed if at all possible. Thus, she contracts Mélinda (Myriam Mézières) to take her place for the exchange taking place at the Shanghai-Lily, an area nightclub that specializes in – ahem – in illicit behaviors.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A well-known politician woman receives a tape showing her son in a porno movie. She decides to hire a female detective to figure out who is trying to black-mail her.”
Readers, I am not going to pretend that I understood all of the messaging that unfurled across Don’t Change Hands’ 86-minute running time. While there is a sense that writer/director Paul Vecchiali was trying to say something about the political and social structure of his native France of a certain time and a certain place, Hands still avoids doubling-down on anything specifically other than the somewhat obvious slights thrown at politicians who are suckling at the government teat while perhaps ignoring some of the social norms tied to the constituency they represent. That’s a pretty bland generalization, I realize, but Hands does stretch beyond the conventional with its rather unconventional depiction of fairly graphic sex along the way. Nearly everyone in here has his or her hands dirty; and – yes! – that winds up being in more ways than one.
The film opens with an obvious pornographic film detailing – in grainy black-and-white – some modest shenanigans between a rather non-descript man and woman. This should be the first sign to viewers that the narrative is being framed in such a way suggesting exploitation (of a certain type) lies at the center of everything that’s to follow. It does, so that’s fair warning to all involved to know that there’s going to be a consistent parade of skin – some of it hardcore – so be prepared for what’s coming. (Yes: that pun was intended.) Eventually, the opening credits fade, and the sound of a running projector is all we’re left with until two ladies come out of the darkness to discuss what all of this truly means.
As a loose neo-noir (of which it’s pretty clear that is the genre Vecchiali was shooting for with this), the film works capably, though I thought the whole affair could’ve benefitted from a bit more story instead of delivering what it did mostly with scraps. Françoise Bourgeois (played by Hélène Surgère) is the politician who has been approached by blackmailers threatening to release this pornographic film starring her adult son Alain (Jean-Christophe Bouvet). Though she initially states that she’s not all that concerned about the extortion and is willing to pay whatever price, Bourgeois does admit that such exposure would impede her possible political future. Her explanation implies that such activity comes as a price for being in her social class, and yet she’d still have it curtailed if at all possible. Thus, she contracts Mélinda (Myriam Mézières) to take her place for the exchange taking place at the Shanghai-Lily, an area nightclub that specializes in – ahem – in illicit behaviors.
Inside the Shanghai-Lily, Madame Mado (Liza Bracconier) serves as the ringmaster of both the live entertainment – which is plenty revealing as Mona Mour (the absolutely delicious Mona Heftre) sings and dances her way into the hearts of patrons – and the criminal rackets. Naturally, this wretched hive of scum and villainy hosts a few of the movers and shakers intent on seizing their own fortunes off the profits from similar shakedowns, and our independent lady of justice is intent on clearing Bourgeois’ not-so-good name. She nabs the desired pictures from Catherine Desprès (Françoise Giret) seated at the next table, and then she threatens to have the lady prosecuted for dealing in pornography. Eventually, Mélinda and Mado collide, and bullets are exchanged in the process, bringing up the first dead bodies to pile up in this fuzzy pursuit of justice.
But, alas, what appears to have been brought to a close rather quickly really only pushes the door open for even more shenanigans, some of which might be tied to even bigger and more notorious figures. Because all of these various players are tied together in this extortion racket, Mado’s minions to eventually strike back at Mélinda, murdering her gal Friday and sex partner Natacha (Nanette Corey). When the detective realizes that Madame Bourgeois has kept some crucial details tying her political fortunes to those of the Desprès family, she vows to stay on the case no matter what she unearths … even at the cost of her own chastity.
Like any story dealing with the noirish confines of private detectives, Hands deals chiefly with the lone knight of justice trying to make his (in this case ‘her’) way against the oppressive forces of authority. These people are too wealthy to beg, borrow, and steal, but they’re perfectly willing to pay for such services, and that’s a good portion of what’s involved in this criminal investigation. Thematically, Mélinda is no different than Humphrey Bogart in 1941’s The Maltese Falcon (albeit much better looking) or even Humphrey Bogart (again!) in 1946’s The Big Sleep (still better looking). She’s surrounded by conniving conspirators who’ll stop at nothing to see their dirty laundry laundered or destroyed entirely, even if that means committing a bit of homicide along the way for good measure.
What makes the film different from other traditional Crime Dramas is that fact that Vecchiali chose include buckets and buckets of salacious material not unlike the opening porn real. While sex might’ve been hinted at in the days of Bogart, there’s no denying the parade of boobs, butts, and balls in the picture, and the couplings even include the build-up to a screen orgy in the final reel. Though I could argue that a few of the trysts really had little to do with the plot’s progression, that apparently didn’t stop Vecchiali and his cast and crew from pulling out all the stops to give this project a sex life all of its own.
But, alas, what appears to have been brought to a close rather quickly really only pushes the door open for even more shenanigans, some of which might be tied to even bigger and more notorious figures. Because all of these various players are tied together in this extortion racket, Mado’s minions to eventually strike back at Mélinda, murdering her gal Friday and sex partner Natacha (Nanette Corey). When the detective realizes that Madame Bourgeois has kept some crucial details tying her political fortunes to those of the Desprès family, she vows to stay on the case no matter what she unearths … even at the cost of her own chastity.
Like any story dealing with the noirish confines of private detectives, Hands deals chiefly with the lone knight of justice trying to make his (in this case ‘her’) way against the oppressive forces of authority. These people are too wealthy to beg, borrow, and steal, but they’re perfectly willing to pay for such services, and that’s a good portion of what’s involved in this criminal investigation. Thematically, Mélinda is no different than Humphrey Bogart in 1941’s The Maltese Falcon (albeit much better looking) or even Humphrey Bogart (again!) in 1946’s The Big Sleep (still better looking). She’s surrounded by conniving conspirators who’ll stop at nothing to see their dirty laundry laundered or destroyed entirely, even if that means committing a bit of homicide along the way for good measure.
What makes the film different from other traditional Crime Dramas is that fact that Vecchiali chose include buckets and buckets of salacious material not unlike the opening porn real. While sex might’ve been hinted at in the days of Bogart, there’s no denying the parade of boobs, butts, and balls in the picture, and the couplings even include the build-up to a screen orgy in the final reel. Though I could argue that a few of the trysts really had little to do with the plot’s progression, that apparently didn’t stop Vecchiali and his cast and crew from pulling out all the stops to give this project a sex life all of its own.
Sadly, I really haven’t been able to locate much information about the filmmaker and his career in my research. His Wikipedia.org citation highlights that his productions were low-budget and somewhat experimental; while Hands clearly looks like a few dollars were spent here and there, the only thing going on experimentally is the pursuit of carnal delights, and – as I said – there’s quite a bit on display. I’m no prude, mind you, but all I’ve asked as a critic is for the encounters to serve a purpose: that doesn’t seem to be the case here, making most of the sequences feel like exploitation for exploitation’s sake, especially when necrophilia, auto erotica, and sadomasochism are tossed into the mix without much substantive need. (Was Vecchiali merely intent on covering all bases? It’s hard to tell.) There’s an audience for that kind of thing, and yet they are usually not looking for this much plot.
As for the onscreen talent?
Myriam Mézières gets the lion’s share of the screen time, filling in the trench coat of a lovely gumshoe name Mélinda who takes the job of defusing the extortion but loses more than she bargained for in the process. Typically, such work is reserved for the men – going where angels fear to tread, toting iron and willing to spit hot lead at any and all perpetrators – so the role reversal is interesting here, at best, though a bit too much of the shenanigans could’ve used a bit more exposition and a tad less exploitation for my tastes. (FYI: there’s a good degree of nudity and sexual activity where all of this leads, not a bad thing if that’s your fascination.) To her credit, Mézières clearly knows what she’s doing as the lead, deadpanning a good portion of her lines and looking ready-to-rumble (in more ways than one) when the circumstances require it. Still, I think she underplays a handful of her scenes, and I’m left wondering if this really was all about her character’s desire for a payday or was the actress just muttering lines at the behest of her director. It's all a bit vague, and that kills the pacing.
The biographical information for actress Surgére over at RottenTomatoes.com states that Vecchiali discovered the woman off a photoshoot she did after abandoning a successful business career; and he was so smitten with her feminine wiles that he included her in a great many of this cinematic efforts. Her work here as Minister Bourgeois is very good, but (again) I have to confess to not quite understanding the breadth of the political posturing. Lacking any further explanation, she’s little more than an employer with a secret to hide; and I suspect the director was more likely making a comment on the French norms of the day, perhaps even deeper than crony corruption. Clearly, the surname itself hints that the minister was a bit conceited, but that’s clear as day, implying this was done to point out she shouldn’t be trusted.
As for the onscreen talent?
Myriam Mézières gets the lion’s share of the screen time, filling in the trench coat of a lovely gumshoe name Mélinda who takes the job of defusing the extortion but loses more than she bargained for in the process. Typically, such work is reserved for the men – going where angels fear to tread, toting iron and willing to spit hot lead at any and all perpetrators – so the role reversal is interesting here, at best, though a bit too much of the shenanigans could’ve used a bit more exposition and a tad less exploitation for my tastes. (FYI: there’s a good degree of nudity and sexual activity where all of this leads, not a bad thing if that’s your fascination.) To her credit, Mézières clearly knows what she’s doing as the lead, deadpanning a good portion of her lines and looking ready-to-rumble (in more ways than one) when the circumstances require it. Still, I think she underplays a handful of her scenes, and I’m left wondering if this really was all about her character’s desire for a payday or was the actress just muttering lines at the behest of her director. It's all a bit vague, and that kills the pacing.
The biographical information for actress Surgére over at RottenTomatoes.com states that Vecchiali discovered the woman off a photoshoot she did after abandoning a successful business career; and he was so smitten with her feminine wiles that he included her in a great many of this cinematic efforts. Her work here as Minister Bourgeois is very good, but (again) I have to confess to not quite understanding the breadth of the political posturing. Lacking any further explanation, she’s little more than an employer with a secret to hide; and I suspect the director was more likely making a comment on the French norms of the day, perhaps even deeper than crony corruption. Clearly, the surname itself hints that the minister was a bit conceited, but that’s clear as day, implying this was done to point out she shouldn’t be trusted.
Lastly, Giret is quite good as the somewhat fragile foil to the whole investigation. While her performance might be tagged as a bit stereotypical for noir, that shouldn’t in any way suggest the actress turns in inferior work. Her Catherine Desprès might be the easiest archetype to grasp in all of this: she’ll do whatever’s necessary to achieve her desired satisfaction even when that means taking sexual matters into her own hand with a bit of help from the sought-after porn film. Emotionally unstable but seeking a way to get ahead, she’s a surprise breath of fresh air as a femme fatale in this twisted tale and yet you can easily grasp where she’s coming from and why she’s likely doomed. In the end, she commits her own hari-kari in about as dark a way as has ever happened in filmdom.
Without complaining, it’s still difficult to look at Hands as little more than arthouse pornography in the final estimation. As I said, there’s a simple enough story involved some duplicity and double cross; and Vecchiali’s work here – while not evoking any style other than hard-boiled noir – feels too much like he was coasting on autopilot while the onscreen talent did the nasty. A bit more range or melodrama from the cast might’ve left me with a stronger impression; but as is far too much of it is bland and uneventful in between the sex acts.
Don’t Change Hands (1975) was produced by Contrechamp and Unité Trois. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be surprisingly good from start-to-finish. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There are a few interviews which explore the production lightly; it’s a good collection for those who want to wade through those who knew Vecchiali well at this point in his career.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
As a fan of detective stories – especially private detectives – Don’t Change Hands (1975) has a nice construct with which to weave a yarn about past deceptions coming back to haunt folks at a later date; and yet, sadly, there are just reels and reels of unnecessary sex between the better bits. Had writer/director Vecchiali dialed it back a wee bit and given the cast more to do that grope, this one might’ve had the chance to be something more than what it remains, largely an exploitation feature given more story than fans of that sort of thing show up for. As a result, I’m not sure it has anything greater than a limited cult appeal.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary 2K Blu-ray of Don’t Change Hands (aka Change pas de main) (1975) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Without complaining, it’s still difficult to look at Hands as little more than arthouse pornography in the final estimation. As I said, there’s a simple enough story involved some duplicity and double cross; and Vecchiali’s work here – while not evoking any style other than hard-boiled noir – feels too much like he was coasting on autopilot while the onscreen talent did the nasty. A bit more range or melodrama from the cast might’ve left me with a stronger impression; but as is far too much of it is bland and uneventful in between the sex acts.
Don’t Change Hands (1975) was produced by Contrechamp and Unité Trois. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be surprisingly good from start-to-finish. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There are a few interviews which explore the production lightly; it’s a good collection for those who want to wade through those who knew Vecchiali well at this point in his career.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
As a fan of detective stories – especially private detectives – Don’t Change Hands (1975) has a nice construct with which to weave a yarn about past deceptions coming back to haunt folks at a later date; and yet, sadly, there are just reels and reels of unnecessary sex between the better bits. Had writer/director Vecchiali dialed it back a wee bit and given the cast more to do that grope, this one might’ve had the chance to be something more than what it remains, largely an exploitation feature given more story than fans of that sort of thing show up for. As a result, I’m not sure it has anything greater than a limited cult appeal.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary 2K Blu-ray of Don’t Change Hands (aka Change pas de main) (1975) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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