JesseCataldo’s review published on Letterboxd:
The world of the music hall is hazy and dreamlike, defined by mirrors and glass, the camera gliding through imperceptible borders, all fuzzy outfits, dove pasties and fox furs. The world of the law is hard, wood and metal, rigid lines, angular shadows. Clouzot starts off under the auspices of a murder mystery, and while his procedural flow is rigorous and unrelenting, it becomes clear that this isn’t about the act of solving a crime, but how the governing systems of law and order run counter to the ones of art and emotion. This means we chart a torrent of confused feelings in one half, with the cuckolded pianist Maurice contemplating murder, and impassive process in the second, as lizard-like inspector Antoine retraces his suspect’s steps (to the point of identical montage and framing in the backstage sequences). Put these two halves together and you get a jagged portrait of post-war France, halfway eager to avenge itself after five years of wartime embarrassment, halfway ready to restore order and return to the normal course of life. The conclusion to this bifurcated take on a society in recovery isn’t especially satisfying, with the principals redeemed as a usual suspect takes the fall, but it squares with Clouzot’s usual method of granting everyone their just desserts, even if those outcomes don’t fit into a commonplace moral framework.