If Franju imprinted any personality onto his tribute to Feuillade it is a lack of personality. His Judex strips away the arch charm of the serial, leaving a highly compressed and vapid, almost Bressonian automation. Any outright changes he makes to the plot are a means to reference other Feuillade pictures: an added espionage sequence has Diana Monti creep around in a black catsuit a la Irma Vep, a later rooftop climax and characters scaling a building likewise incorporate Les Vampires, and at one point the detective is shown highly engrossed in the novel of Fantômas. Elsewhere throughout, silent era titlecards and iris effects complete the homage. Gone, however, is Judex and his allies’ surprising mercy towards Favraux and all the positive relationships formed on account of the criminal hijinks, including the once-delightful Cocantin’s adoption of the likewise once-delightful Licorice Kid. In effect, Franju’s sombre, deadpan affair purges all that I love about Feuillade’s original, oddly having the least amount of fun possible with such pulpy material. I don’t resent the change in tone, but I find it merely curious where others see poetry. Indeed, if it had been even further removed -a sinister variation finding ambiguity where there was none before, or simply if his mood was moodier -we could have had something much more striking.
Technicolor Red 