How to Make a Killing

There is a specific kind of silence that only exists in the French mountains—the sort of quiet that feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting for either a punchline or a scream. In How to Make a Killing (originally titled Un ours dans le Jura), we get a messy, frantic combination of both. When a literal bear barrels into the path of Michel’s car, it doesn't just total the engine; it shatters the mind-numbing monotony of a marriage that has survived on autopilot for far too many winters. I watched this while trying to assemble a flat-pack IKEA nightstand, and the mounting frustration of following poorly illustrated instructions felt like a perfect thematic companion to the lead couple’s increasingly disastrous attempts at a criminal cover-up.

The Domesticity of Doom

At the center of this mountain-side mayhem are Michel and Cathy, played by Franck Dubosc and Laure Calamy. For years, Franck Dubosc has been the king of the "lovable loser" archetype in France, often leaning into broad, sun-drenched slapstick. Here, acting as his own director, he finally decides to trade his speedos for a soul, or at least a very panicked conscience. Michel is a man who seems exhausted by his own honesty until a bag containing €2 million lands in his lap. Beside him, Laure Calamy continues her streak as the most electric presence in contemporary French cinema. She has this incredible ability to pivot from "weary housewife" to "Lady Macbeth of the Alps" with just a twitch of her eyebrow.

Their chemistry isn't built on romance, but on the shared, frantic energy of two people who are clearly out of their depth. When they discover the money among the wreckage of two drug dealers (and a very dead bear), their decision to keep it isn’t framed as a grand heist. It feels more like a desperate domestic renovation project. They aren't professional thieves; they are retirees-in-waiting who just realized they can suddenly afford the "premium" life, provided they can ignore the trail of bodies they keep tripping over.

A Jura-Style Fargo

The film clearly owes a debt to the Coen Brothers, particularly the "ordinary people doing extraordinary crimes" DNA of Fargo. However, Dubosc infuses it with a distinctly Gallic sense of the absurd. The pacing relies heavily on the "clumsy cover-up" trope, where every lie told to hide a body requires three more lies to explain the first one. The bear is arguably the most competent character in the movie, and it spends most of its screen time as a carcass.

The arrival of Benoît Poelvoorde as Major Roland Bodin is where the film’s comedic engine really starts to purr. Poelvoorde is a Belgian treasure who specializes in characters that are simultaneously intimidating and utterly ridiculous. As the interfering inspector, he brings a sharp, satirical edge to the proceedings, poking holes in Michel and Cathy’s increasingly thin alibis. The way he lingers in their kitchen, sensing the "crookedness" beneath their "honesty," creates a delicious tension. Joséphine de Meaux also provides excellent support as Florence, adding to a cast that understands exactly how to play dark material for light laughs.

Comedy in the Age of Anxiety

Released in an era where we are constantly bombarded by "gritty" crime dramas on every streaming platform, How to Make a Killing feels like a refreshing, if bloody, throwback to the mid-budget character comedy. It doesn't rely on seamless CGI or massive set-pieces; it relies on the sight of two middle-aged people trying to haul a heavy bag across a snowy field without throwing out their backs.

There’s something very "now" about the film’s underlying cynicism regarding money. In the post-pandemic landscape, where financial stability feels like a fantasy for many, the audience’s moral compass is intentionally skewed. We don't want Michel and Cathy to get caught. We want the "honest" people to win, even if they have to be a little bit crooked to do it. The film captures that specific contemporary anxiety—the feeling that the only way to get ahead is to wait for a literal act of God (or a bear) to disrupt the status quo.

Interestingly, the production faced its own set of "wild" challenges. Filming in the Jura region meant dealing with unpredictable weather that often mirrored the chaotic plot. Apparently, the "bear" used in the film caused quite a stir during transport, leading to a few panicked calls to local authorities who thought a real grizzly was being moved through the mountain passes. It's that blend of real-world grit and heightened absurdity that keeps the movie from feeling like just another genre exercise.

While it doesn't quite reach the heights of the dark comedy masterpieces it emulates, How to Make a Killing is a sharp, funny, and surprisingly tense ride through the mountains. It proves that Franck Dubosc has a much darker, more sophisticated directorial eye than his earlier filmography suggested. It’s a film that understands that the scariest thing in the world isn't a dead drug dealer or a prying inspector—it's the realization that you’re actually quite good at being bad. If you're looking for a crime caper that trades slickness for sweat and high stakes for high-pitched panic, this is a trip to the Jura worth taking.