Critics have long considered Gilles Grangier to be a competent yet pedestrian filmmaker, but maybe that’s because they’ve never seen his oddly surrealist, occasionally insane Danger de mort (US: Danger of Death). It’s a brilliantly odd (or oddly brilliant) film, far from pedestrian, and seems to have served as a creative outlet for Grangier to experiment with the full range of stylistic techniques, including Dutch angles, mirror reflections, deep focus, complex framing, POV shots, slow zooms, and extensive use of compositing to convey overwhelming thoughts and memories (the prisoner’s return home, for example, is filmed with an eerie, sensory, first-person perspective). The story’s subject matter isn’t exactly straightforward either: a morally ambiguous pharmacist named Loiseau (Fernand Ledoux), who makes his own Sunshine Syrup, accidentally adds cyanide to five bottles purchased by local customers on the same day his wife gives birth; more concerned with his professional reputation than the lives at stake, he spends a night of desperation tracking down each bottle, finding one in the possession of a wealthy family, another with a circus dwarf (Piéral), still another with a just released ex-convict who has been ostracized by everyone in his provincial town. (Dog lovers should expect a bit of a shock too.) Thick with noir atmosphere and plenty of suspenseful moments, the film’s circus section stands out as particularly weird and evocative, the dwarf teased by all the other performers, his bottle of syrup stolen and thrown into the lion’s cage, his fear and confusion sparking vengeful outbursts and a spontaneous show on the highwire.