It is the unnatural capitalist investment in the individual that Heartbeat Detector takes as its launch pad for comment on business culture. Our monotone narrator, Simon, is a corporate psychologist who blends in perfectly with the surroundings of his nondescript Parisian workplace; an anonymous German-owned chemical firm. An officer of the Human Resources department, his duties include the maintenance of ‘happiness’ and ‘productivity’ in the workforce. Consequently, he possesses the self-assurance of a man who believes it possible to decipher personal complexities within a 30-minute time slot.
As naïve as he is intelligent, Simon takes an assignment to assess the mental state of his CEO. But his investigation is a prelude to a corporate mutiny that begins the film’s descent into the murky psychological depths of Simon’s world, and the history that lies beneath. As a series of anonymous letters compare the actions of Nazi employees to modern corporate practise, the past lives of his superiors unravel, and Simon is forced to confront the reality of his own dehumanised existence.
Heartbeat Detector is a timely counter point to the glitz and glamour of the City-boy dream, as the big money bonuses begin to dry up and the country stares down the barrel of recession. These virile young suits are little more than fresh meat who forge forced relationships fraught with sexual tensions and uncomfortable familiarities. But for all that the film questions whether dedicating your life to a sterile corporation is really a good idea, director Nicolas Klotz is no anarchist. He’s not calling for the end of the capitalist system, he’s merely allowing these broken, disturbed executives to serve as a warning.
Sometimes his message is inexplicably overt, but the restrained performances balance the occasionally pretentious execution. The result is perhaps not the haunting social comment it might have been, but is nonetheless a sharp observation that the problems of both past and present are more similar and immediate than we might think.
