LA TRêVE / THE BREAK: Criminally Underseen Belgian Delight

The Break (La trêve) is one of those series that went almost unnoticed. Meanwhile, the Belgian production directed by Matthieu Donck is a surprisingly gripping, multi-layered crime story. Over the course of ten episodes, we get to know the residents of the small town of Heiderfeld and the intruder, a man from the outside who simultaneously understands the place’s particular character.

Inspector Yoann Peeters, a widower and an officer with a troubled past, returns with his teenage daughter to the rural area where he grew up.

The quiet town was supposed to be a place of rest and a fresh start, but before Peeters even finishes unpacking boxes, a body floats up from the river. The inexperienced local investigators want to close the case immediately. Heiderfeld doesn’t need publicity. Suicide. Sounds reasonable, especially since the deceased left something resembling a farewell letter. But it quickly becomes clear that it was a brutal murder staged as a suicide. The young man has numerous injuries that couldn’t have come from jumping off a bridge, and besides, he couldn’t have written the letter—he was illiterate.

Driss (Jérémy Zagba), a young African football player, dreams of a great career. Brought to Belgium by a third-league team with the promise of good pay. No one knows exactly where he comes from; what is certain is that he left behind a mother and brother who support his sports ambitions but also count on financial help. Driss gets a small apartment, regularly attends training, the money isn’t quite what was promised, but he tries to manage. After several months, he is murdered. Only thanks to Inspector Peeters’ persistence (Yoann Blanc) do the people of Heiderfeld have a chance to learn the killer’s identity and the truth about Driss’s final day.

The question is, do they really want to know…

A small, closed-off community follows its own rules. Deals and arrangements, lies big and small, and above all, secrets. Everyone in Heiderfeld has them. The townspeople are corrupt, ruthless, and depraved. This is Belgium as we don’t know it. Instead of tidy brick homes and cozy cafes, we get corrugated iron estates, decaying stadiums, and people living in trailers. A dirty, gray, washed-out world you paradoxically want to stay in. To spy on its residents, uncover their secrets, their perversions, and their crimes.

Nine subsequent episodes of The Break are a flashback of the events that took place months earlier, deepened by reflections from two protagonists. Inspector Peeters is under observation at a psychiatric clinic. He did something illegal, someone likely died because of him, but the details of these (pre-)events are unknown. The man suffers from blackouts and amnesia, unable to recall the fateful incidents.

He had abused medications and likely suffers from PTSD, the origin of which lies before his move to Heiderfeld. A police failure at that time resulted in the death of several officers, including Peeters’ wife, who had been his partner in the investigation. Now the inspector is undergoing individual therapy. Conversations with a psychiatrist who is also a criminologist aim to establish the course of events Peeters alone witnessed and to diagnose whether he was sane and how responsible he is for the dramatic outcome of the Driss murder case. The final tenth episode brings a twist. After weeks of isolation, Peeters leaves the clinic. Temporarily suspended from duty, he accidentally finds Driss’s killer.

The scenes set in the clinic pause the leading narrative and slow down the action. The creators of The Break are fully aware of this, so the clinic sequences are short and concise, never overwhelming the plot, their ratio to the retrospective events remains mostly symbolic.

The story of The Break unfolds slowly. The first episode brings no major breakthroughs or surprises, but by the second, things happen the viewer never expected.

It is worth giving the Belgian production a chance, even if the first episode doesn’t immediately grip you. The subsequent parts offer a unique tale of an unlikeable, overly ambitious detective who trusts no one, suspects everyone, but is also the only one determined to find the murderer. The viewer is pulled into the suggestive atmosphere of paranoia gripping Peeters.

False leads are densely and flawlessly scattered throughout The Break. At the climax of the investigation, suspects are eliminated one by one, and a new person with motive seems to appear constantly. Betting syndicates, fixed matches, mafia money laundering, drug trafficking, a mysterious cult possibly tied to voodoo, modern-day Nazis, a crime of passion, a simple accident and a hidden body, etc. As absurd as these leads may sound, each one is valid for a time. It turns out many people had a reason to want the Black footballer eliminated. The course of events even suggests that more than one person may be responsible for his death.

As with most crime series of this type, there’s a political/business subplot. Prominent Heiderfeld citizens, fighting for trust and support from the local community, are far from virtuous. The river where Driss’s body was found is the subject of disputes and lively debate. A proposed dam and reservoir project would flood several homesteads, and not everyone supports it. Mayor Brigitte Fischer (Catherine Salée) negotiates with residents whose homes would be submerged. Some firmly reject the generous compensation offer; they are attached to the places where they have lived all their lives. The most stubborn among them begin to experience strange accidents… How much did the murder victim know about this?

An interesting addition to the fully realistic Break are the surreal nightmares and waking dreams that haunt several characters. These visually striking asides to the show’s naturalistic tone serve as a symbolic collective guilty conscience. Many contributed their small share to Driss’s death and will not escape the memories and guilt. On a side note, a touch of surrealism in the style of Magritte is also present in the series’ brilliant opening credits.

The Break has no recognizable faces or names, no popular actors.

A foreign-sounding, French-language production with Flemish insertions and just one familiar element: the immortal, globally known Polish curse word. A series that didn’t make much of a splash, and that’s a shame, because it’s easy to get absorbed in this warped world that feels both far from and close to our own surroundings. Perfect for those tired of big-budget, guaranteed-success productions. A must-watch for fans of Broadchurch or The Killing.