Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (2006)

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer is a rare film that makes an invisible sense—smell—feel cinematic, turning 18th-century France into a lush, rotten, intoxicating dream you can almost breathe in. Tom Tykwer directs with a feverish elegance, and Ben Whishaw’s Grenouille is both eerie and mesmerizing, a blank-faced vessel for obsession that the camera can’t stop orbiting, while Alan Rickman lends gravitas and dread with every measured glance. The tone is gothic and sensual, equal parts fairy tale and crime story, with images so tactile and baroque they linger like a fragrance long after the scene ends. It’s not for everyone—its violence, nudity, and disturbing undercurrent are integral to what it’s doing—but if you can stomach the darkness, you’ll find a boldly original, perversely beautiful piece of filmmaking.

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer is clearly trying to turn an “unfilmable” novel into a lush, sensory fairy tale about obsession, artistry, and moral rot, and on a purely visual-and-atmospheric level it often succeeds. The problem is that the story asks you to follow a cold, almost vacant antihero for a long stretch, so if you need someone to root for—or even understand emotionally—you may find it more clinical than compelling. It’s also unapologetically lurid: nudity, sexualized imagery, and repeated murders are presented with a stylized sheen that will feel daring to some and queasy or exploitative to others. If you can handle the disturbing content and want a dark, operatic mood piece with strong craft, there’s a lot to admire; if you’re sensitive to sexual violence-adjacent material or want a tighter, more character-driven crime drama, this is likely not your night.