This film was recently recommended to me on a forum discussion concerning the best LGBT cinema. But Mauvais Genres is so good that I wouldn't say that it appeals only to such interest groups. It is excessively Hitchcockian (an adjective used far too often, but utterly justified in this case) in it's outlook. Indeed there are so many MacGuffins in this thriller involving props such as a microfilm or a heart-shaped box that you feel it edging almost into the territory of parody. As it is the movie stays at a more gleeful, vital, tone, revelling in homage. It is glossy enough for us to suggest that its tone comes from Hitchcock via de Palma. The music though seems directly inspired by such classic Hitchock scores as that in Vertigo.<br /><br />There are in my opinion two characters in this movie of outstanding interest. First we have Bo, a transsexual entertainer, played by Robinson Stévenin, in what has to be one of the most outstanding performances that I have ever seen (winning the Cesar for best new actor). She is such an alive and beautiful person that it is truly painful when we see her subjected to violence. There is a subplot in the film concerning the fact that she was abused as a child and there are implications that her retreat into femininity is a coping strategy for dealing with that abuse. I'm in no way qualified to examine the risibility or otherwise of such claims, but certainly these thoughts may have been filtering through her mind and leading towards self-destructive behaviour.<br /><br />The meat of the movie, which is only ostensibly a serial-killer thriller, is her love for Johnny, a clearly violent and handsome young man who has very mixed thoughts concerning transsexuals. Her love for him is so blind as to verge on self-immolation, her approaches undeterred by even a broken arm. I watch film to see excesses of emotions, and in her love for this psychotic individual, Bo's love becomes a fiery inferno that inundates her.<br /><br />Johnny is also a very interesting character, he joined up in the foreign legion to see the tropics but, we are told, ended up waiting table at headquarters in Avignon. Metaphorically speaking perhaps that's what happens to most men in modern society. And you can certainly sense the frustration in this 'red-blooded' man for whom society is effectively a cage.