Francoise Cluzet, Corinne Masiero, Bouli Lanners,
Dir. Phillipe Godeau
In 2009 Toni Musulin stole 11.6 million euros from the security van he was driving. The money belonged to the Banque de France. Now most people might see this as a cut and dried case of theft. Musulin even handed himself in. But a few facts and a little bit of opinion might take the edge off some of this certainty.
At the time, Loomis, the security firm Musulin worked for, were only insured to carry up to 6 million euros. Musulin stole the money after dropping off colleagues at another business; no one was coshed in this robbery. And the banks are not exactly squeeky clean when it comes to be a bit of theft or accounting sleight of hand – not necessarily Banque de France, for that would be a great slander – nor are they strangers to a bit of fraud, embezzlement, drug money laundering, terrorist facilitating, business hobbling and the occasional bout of world economy destruction. In short, no one ever shed a tear when a bank was shafted.
This probably explains why Toni Musulin was hailed as a hero in France when his crime became public knowledge. He received a three year sentence, extended to five because of an alleged insurance fraud involving a stolen Ferrari!
11.6 tells the story of how Musulin dunnit. A shrewd Serbian, with a knack for making money through property investments, the end of his tether was reached when he discovered the security firm ripping him off, underpaying him by a couple of minutes a day, a sneaky bit of penny pinching that Musulin calculated had been going on for years. Director Phillipe Godeau and actor Francoise Cluzet make no effort to paint Musulin as a heroic figure. He is cold, distant and at times self obesessed, but Godeau allows the viewers to make up their own minds about Musulin and his so called crime.
Even today, with Musulin still in a French gaol 2.5 million euros is unaccounted for. Musulin says it was stolen after he left the van in a sidestreet. The rest of the money was recovered, again after Musulin told police where it was stored. The film makes no attempt to fill the gap, tie up the one loose end in Musulin’s carefully woven plan. For all we know the money might be in the boot of his Ferrari, covered by a dustsheet in his mother’s garage in Serbia.
And if it is good luck to him. If Musulin had been a limited company he could have paid his fine out of his stolen loot. But as he was a human being not employed by a bank he had to do his porridge. Who says crime doesn’t pay? Doesn’t pay what? Come on, tell me that: doesn’t pay what?