In the course of my amateur anthropological studies (read: gossiping, and be careful on that high horse) I've come to the conclusion that most guys are fascinated by crazy women, seemingly equating a feminine break from reality with sexual daring. But wanton impulses are not exclusive to the insane, and one of the many charms of throwing down with a rational girl is that when buttons, zippers, and buckles are once again buttoned, zippered, and buckled, it's not necessary to get a repair estimate after some lovely lunatic keys her innermost feelings into the side of your car.

The cool thing about these hot messes, however, is they sure can fuel a plot. Miles of film have been devoted to tales of spineless men being hopelessly beguiled by temptresses who look to be a few cupcakes short of a party. Often these dames are just cruelly manipulative, which itself speaks to a certain mental instability, but sometimes they've gone right around the bend. The ladies are invariably stunning, and the more unhinged, the better. Hitchcock could tell us all about this if he weren't totally dead.

Fortunately, Claude Chabrol is still with us. One of the last working filmmakers from the celebrated French New Wave (octogenarians Eric Rohmer and Alain Resnais are still at it as well), the 76-year-old Chabrol's affinity for Hitchcock is plain (he and Rohmer co-authored a 1957 book on the Master of Suspense) and evidenced by his latest film, The Bridesmaid, based on the book by British mystery writer Ruth Rendell. It's Chabrol's second adaptation of a Rendell novel (the first being 1995's La Cérémonie, from her Judgment in Stone), and in The Bridesmaid, a handsome man is controlled on all sides by his smothery mother, his selfish sisters, and, most dangerously, an enchanting young lady with mad curves and madder eyes who has decided that he is "the one I was waiting for."

We meet the bickering Tardieu siblings as they're watching local news about a possible kidnapping, but once their mother shows up, we witness the faintly incestuous dynamic between Philippe (The Piano Teacher's Benoît Magimel) and his mom (Aurore Clément, late of Marie Antoinette, but don't hold that against her). They have plans with their mother's new jerk of a boyfriend, though much of the dinner talk centers around the imminent wedding of one of the sisters, and it is at that celebration that Philippe will first cross paths with Senta (newcomer Laura Smet), the titular attendant.

Senta appears indifferent upon initial glance, but all too soon she's unwrapping herself like a luscious gift to Philippe and making dramatic pronouncements ("You're my destiny and I'm yours. That's all.") that might terrify someone who wasn't accustomed to domineering women and probably looking for an escape. Philippe revels in his intense lover until she suggests ways he can prove his eternal devotion, like planting a tree, or murdering someone. Anyone. And when he thinks he's figured out a way to please her without any actual bloodshed, we hold our collective breath and wait for his deluded beauty to lower the boom.

And Chabrol nearly causes us to turn blue, parceling out the relevant information ever so slowly and making us squirm in the muted greys of Senta's shadowy basement flat or Philippe's equally creepy suburban home. He's aided by Portuguese cinematographer Eduardo Serra, who has dazzled on films as varied as Unbreakable, Girl with a Pearl Earring, and, most recently, Blood Diamond. Chabrol's son Matthieu provides the menacing score, which evokes the Hitchcock/Hermann collaborations in the best way.

Magimel is decent as pussywhipped everyman Philippe, mostly called upon to react to the disturbed Senta, and there's a reason Clement continues to work with cinema's best (i.e., Coppola's Apocalypse Now; Wenders' Paris, Texas). And as Senta, Laura Smet --- she's the daughter of Johnny Hallyday (a/k/a the French Elvis) and actor Nathalie Baye (Venus Beauty Institute) --- proves a real find. She conveys Senta's instability with careful, deliberate motions and without grand hysterics, most notably in the final shot, when it's made clear just how far gone she is. Even though we suspect what's in store, and it brings The Bridesmaid full circle, it's one of those I-can't-believe-you're-showing-that-but-why-can't-I-look-away? kind of scenes.

The Bridesmaid (La Demoiselle d'Honneur) (R), directed by Claude Chabrol, will show Friday, February 9, at 8 p.m.; Saturday, February 10, at 5 p.m.; and Sunday, February 11, at 7 p.m. All screenings are at the George Eastman House's Dryden Theatre.