There is a kind of decay that doesn’t erupt abruptly — it seeps gradually into the very institutions meant to uphold order. When the police — supposed guardians of legality — begin to operate in sync with criminal practices, what we witness is not mere dysfunction but the silent erosion of any civilizational pact. The overlap between uniforms and criminality is no longer rare or accidental: over time, it has become a permanent grey zone where laws are molded to suit those expected to enforce them. The average citizen, cornered between the State’s omission and the advance of rival factions, finds themselves surrounded by enemies on all fronts — including those wearing official insignia. It is in this ethical quagmire that Olivier Marchal plants his feet once more with “Squad 36”, reaffirming his narrative hunger for stories of moral collapse within the ranks of law enforcement.
The film treads terrain that is not unfamiliar to the director, but here it gains an almost intimate sense of despair. Marchal doesn’t just depict a reality in which public officials abandon their principles — he throws open the workings of a machine that naturally operates in opposition to justice. No clear lines remain between right and wrong, protector and predator. Public duty mutates into a tacit license to extort, punish selectively, or kill — always under the pretense of protecting a safety that never materializes. Once such a model becomes institutionalized, democracy itself begins to rot from within. The social contract doesn’t collapse in flames but disintegrates in complicit silences, repeated omissions, and rhetoric that bends the law for convenience.
Marchal returns yet again to a portrait of France held hostage by its own repressive mechanisms — this time, from the inside. Alongside Michel Tourscher, he pens “Squad 36” with a clear intent to echo “36 Quai des Orfèvres”, but without retracing its narrative anatomy. The conflict now is no longer a strategic duel between rival power figures, but the radical solitude of a man stripped of trust and prestige, fighting to stay afloat in a system he once served. Antoine Cerda, played by Victor Belmondo, no longer bears the weight of moral ambiguity — he has already crossed that line. What remains is navigating the minefield of consequences.
Belmondo’s performance is marked by a quiet disillusionment, as if his character knew from the outset that his fight was doomed. Marchal constructs the drama from this moral exhaustion, setting it against the steely force of Yvan Attal, who brings to life a veteran of the corrupt system with unsettling authenticity. The visual language, drenched in shadows and echoing a disenchanted noir, recalls “De Palma” and “Siodmak” — not for their stylistic charm, but for their ability to reveal rot beneath the surface. Here, noir isn’t seductive — it’s suffocating. The blood spilled isn’t metaphor — it’s proof.
In the end, “Squad 36” seeks no catharsis, offers no closure. There’s no promise of redemption, no conciliatory arc. This absence isn’t a narrative oversight but a deliberate affront to any expectation of comfort. Marchal seems to insist that as long as there’s one Antoine Cerda, there will be a system ready to crush — or assimilate — him. And in this cycle, perhaps the real protagonist is not the broken man who resists, but the persistence of the ruin he cannot halt. The lingering question is no longer about what comes next — but about what we still refuse to acknowledge: decay has ceased to be the exception. It is now the norm.
Film: Squad 36
Director: Olivier Marchal
Year: 2025
Genres: Drama/Crime/Thriller
Rating: 8/10