A revenge saga about backstabbing in French local politics may not sound like the best summer binge-watch. But Baron Noir is like a perfect blend of House of Cards … and The Sopranos
There has probably never been a worse time for a political series to air in the UK. Between Brexit, the Chilcot enquiry, the recent Tory bloodletting and the constant psychodrama that some people like to call “the Labour party”, it feels as if real life has gazumped scriptwriters at their own game.You would be forgiven, then, for thinking of giving French political drama Baron Noir – the first series of which has just dropped on Amazon – a swerve. Let’s face it, when there are shows about devil-slaughtering preachers and talking celebrity horses out there, a saga about the intricacies of the French semi-presidential system probably doesn’t look that appealing.
But that would be a mistake, for two reasons. First off, Baron Noir is cracking fun – a proper grownup drama with the bite of House of Cards, the grandstanding rhetoric of The West Wing and even the odd moment of The Thick of It farce. Second, and perhaps more importantly, at a time where the motivations of politicians seem murkier than ever, Baron Noir allows us the briefest of peeks into their heads. If you’ve spent any time wondering what kind of mindset would make, say, Michael Gove team up with Boris Johnson to topple David Cameron, then turn around and stab his erstwhile campaigning partner in the back, this may be the series for you.
At the centre of Baron Noir is a savage conflict between two former friends: Philippe Rickwaert, mayor of Dunkirk and a députée du Nord, and his mentor, Socialist presidential candidate Francois Laugier (whom you might recognise from his terrifying turn as a mob boss in Jacques Audiard’s A Prophet). As the series opens, the former is in a spot of bother: he has been tipped off that France’s anti-fraud squad are about to raid his offices, hoping to find evidence that he has been siphoning public money into a slush fund. Rickwaert has to find cash, fast, even if it means flogging his TV or accepting an almighty bribe from a dodgy building contractor.
All of this proves too grubby for Laugier, who sells Rickwaert down the river to save his own career. Except Rickwaert doesn’t go down as easily as he expected. What follows is a revenge saga of Jacobean proportions, as Laugier seeks to end his erstwhile mentee’s political career at every turn, while Rickwaert tries his damnedest to undermine his former boss’s premiership.
As the pair’s methods of destruction become increasingly savage – election sabotage, vicious smear campaigns – you get the feeling that the entire sense of public service has been lost in a fug of power trips and game-playing. As Rickwaert says: “[Politics] eats you up. It’s obsessional!”
These are, of course, familiar themes for political TV. But, like Borgen before it, much of the appeal of Baron Noir lies in how simultaneously familiar and alien its world feels to our own. The show is unafraid to burrow down into the fiendishly complex realm of local politics, which occasionally means you find yourself trying to parse, via subtitles, the nuances of local election law or French vocational education. But even these moments are leavened by sparky set pieces – a student stood on a desk screaming “DE-MO-CRA-CY”, for example – that keep the whole thing from toppling over into wonkishness.
And then there’s Rickwaert, a man from whom you can scarcely draw away your eyes over the course of eight episodes. He’s played by Kad Merad, a French-Algerian actor largely known for his comedic work and who imbues this character with a similarly exaggerated physical presence. Rickwaert is a populist politician, the type to turn up for a parliamentary debate wearing overalls to underline his “man of the people” persona.
However, in his desire to win, he gradually loses any sense of empathy for the people he represents, and indeed his sense of decency. He spends much of his time in dimly lit backrooms and shady industrial estates, stamping on phones and gesticulating menacingly at his opponents – and sometimes his friends. He’s a tricolore Tony Soprano, and you can see why the show’s working title was “Republican Gangsters”. In Baron Noir, the mob rules.
Baron Noir is available in full on Amazon Prime now.
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