Luc Besson’s assassin thriller is worth watching for Anne Parillaud, whose anger and vulnerability make its polished violence feel dangerous. The plotting is less assured, and the romance cannot always supply the depth Besson wants.
Luc Besson directs Nikita with an enthusiasm for violence that can be exciting and a little too easy to share. There is plenty here for anyone who likes crime films sleek, fast and violent, and Anne Parillaud gives the central role enough feeling to justify staying through the less convincing stretches. We recommend it, with reservations about a plot that too often asks style to cover for improbability. Besson is interested in what love might mean to someone accustomed to violence. His film becomes less persuasive when it treats that question as already answered.
Parillaud is the reason it works as often as it does. She makes Nikita’s viciousness uncomfortable rather than merely decorative, with an intensity that keeps the role from settling into a fashionable pose. We were more moved than we expected by the hurt beneath her aggression. Her performance allows violence and emotional need to exist together without making either seem a convenient explanation for the other. Besson’s writing does not always show the same restraint.
Thierry Arbogast’s cinematography gives the violence a polished finish, and the contrast with Parillaud’s abrasive presence helps: she does not look comfortably at home in such an attractive picture. Dan Weil’s production design belongs to the same carefully styled thriller, where appearances are given more attention than ordinary life. The result is pleasurable to watch, though not always convincing as somewhere a person might live. Besson sometimes seems so pleased with how danger looks that he forgets how it ought to feel.
Olivier Mauffroy’s editing is effective at sustaining that forward drive, less effective at making the story’s changes of direction feel necessary. There are passages where momentum supplies the connection the writing has missed, and the later action is not always clear enough. Éric Serra’s music helps maintain the excitement, but cannot give the romance the weight it needs. At 117 minutes, the film has time to develop both sides of Nikita’s life. It does not always spend that time well.
Jean-Hugues Anglade, Tchéky Karyo and Jeanne Moreau help keep the film from depending on its lead alone. The supporting cast have the presence to hold their own in such an emphatically styled thriller, and Jean Reno, as Victor, the Cleaner, fits it particularly well. But the pleasure of watching strong performers does not remove the script’s shortcuts. Besson wants the romance to make the violence matter more, and sometimes relies on our willingness to be moved rather than giving the feeling enough time.
The assassin film often mistakes professional efficiency for a personality; Nikita at least has a woman whose feelings cannot be kept tidy. Its mixture of romance, crime and espionage gives it more interest than a simple demonstration of lethal competence. That does not make it profound, and the slickness sometimes protects Besson from having to think harder about the violence. Watch it for Parillaud, provided a forceful performance can carry you past a story that needs more work.