Reflection in a Dead Diamond

The first thing you hear in Reflection in a Dead Diamond isn’t a gunshot; it’s the microscopic, screeching rasp of a fountain pen across expensive stationery. It’s the kind of sound that directors Bruno Forzani and Hélène Cattet have spent their careers weaponizing, and here, it sets a tone of high-tension elegance that never lets up for the brisk 87-minute runtime. I watched this on a Tuesday afternoon while my neighbor’s cat stared at me through the window with judgmental eyes, which felt appropriately voyeuristic for a movie about an old man obsessed with the woman in the room next door.

Forzani and Cattet are the Belgian duo who gave us Amer and The Strange Color of Your Body’s Tears, films that felt like someone took a 1970s Italian thriller, put it in a blender with some avant-garde perfume commercials, and hit "pulse." With Reflection, they’ve finally moved away from the pure "Neo-Giallo" label and stepped into the world of the aging-spy thriller—but they’ve brought their sensory-overload toolkit with them.

A Giallo Ghost Story in a Luxury Hotel

The plot is deceptively simple, almost a noir trope: Fabio Testi plays John Diman, a 70-year-old ex-spy rotting away in a velvet-lined hotel on the Côte d'Azur. He spends his days drinking and watching the neighbor through the walls. When she disappears, the movie doesn't turn into a standard police procedural; instead, it turns into a kaleidoscopic breakdown of Diman’s psyche.

Having Fabio Testi in the lead is a stroke of genius. For those who don't spend their weekends digging through Euro-crime archives, Testi was a titan of the original 1970s Italian poliziotteschi and giallo movements. Seeing him here—weathered, regal, and still possessing that shark-like intensity—feels like a living bridge between cinema’s past and its experimental present. He doesn't just play a spy; he carries the weight of every character he played fifty years ago. When the film starts blurring his real-life history with his fictional past, the movie starts feeling like a hall of mirrors designed by someone who hates your equilibrium.

The Percussive Rhythm of Violence

If you’re coming to this expecting the linear, clear-cut action of a John Wick sequel, you’re in for a shock. The action choreography here is less about the "wide-shot stunt" and more about the "rhythmic impact." Every punch, every draw of a pistol, and every footstep is edited with a staccato, machine-gun pace that makes the violence feel intimate and terrifying. The editing moves so fast I think it actually gave me a minor case of whiplash.

There is a sequence midway through the film involving a "Serpentik"—played with chilling, silent athleticism by Thi-Mai Nguyen—that ranks as one of the most creative "assassin" encounters I’ve seen in years. It’t not a five-minute brawl; it’s a series of lightning-fast cuts, extreme close-ups of eyes, blades, and leather, all synchronized to a score that sounds like a heartbeat skipping. Forzani and Cattet understand that action is often more effective when it’s felt rather than just seen. They use the cinematography of Manuel Dacosse to turn the luxury hotel into a claustrophobic maze of primary colors and deep shadows. It’s "Action" as a sensory bludgeoning.

Making History in the Streaming Age

Released in an era where most thrillers are flattened by the "Netflix look"—that generic, bright, digital sheen designed to look okay on a phone—Reflection in a Dead Diamond is a defiant middle finger to visual boredom. It’s a film that demands a theatrical screen, or at least a very expensive TV and the lights turned off. It’s part of a growing movement of contemporary films that use "legacy casting" not just for nostalgia, but to interrogate what it means to grow old in a world that’s moved on from your brand of cool.

The film does occasionally trip over its own stylization. There are moments where the plot becomes so secondary to the "vibe" that you might find yourself wondering exactly which version of the past Diman is currently hallucinating. Maria de Medeiros is wonderful as Laura, but she feels more like a ghost than a person, which I suppose is the point, but it leaves the emotional stakes feeling a bit chilly.

This is a film for the people who miss the tactile, gritty feeling of 35mm film but want something that speaks to the madness of the current moment. It’s a short, sharp shock of a movie that proves Forzani and Cattet are the most interesting visual stylists working in Europe today. Whether you’re a fan of old-school spy flicks or just want to see Fabio Testi be a legend for one more hour, it’s a trip worth taking.

The final ten minutes of the film are a masterstroke of tension, weaving together the "moviemaking" aspect mentioned in the synopsis with a payoff that feels both inevitable and totally insane. By the time the credits roll, you aren't just thinking about the plot; you’re thinking about how the light hit a particular glass of whiskey or the way a leather glove sounded as it tightened. It’s a film that stays under your skin, reminding you that even in a digital world, the ghosts of the past are still shooting on film.