The Critics the current entertainments

Review of the thriller from raymond lemoin

- Glen David Gold

WE OPEN OUR eyes as a welder’s mask descends, and we are thinking of a countdown. Down to what, we don’t know, but the pungent brimstone smell triggers a subterranean childhood fear of open flames while we are thinking, “10 … 9 … 8 …”—and the tension is unbearable. We can feel our heartbeat almost choking off our admittedly extremely witty thoughts. It turns out we’re robbing a bank. We don’t actually know how to do it. And then, as with all artistic endeavors, we do it anyway.

Pity the poor bank robber who, having achieved his share of loot, finds that the love of his father is still locked away in the impregnable vault of his father’s not-so-paternal heart. Such is the premise of past master Raymond Lemoin’s new verité, Assaut sur l’Univers (Assault on the Universe), whose title suggests both infinite struggle and inevitable outcome. It also suggests a dollop of ego as powerful as a drill that can pierce steel.