Debouvrie’s body was found “riddled with bullets” in an apartment on Brussels’ Rue des Bouchers, Le Soir exclaimed in rather lurid terms. Other sources claim that the 74 year-old restaurateur and sculptor of Jeanneke Pis had been stabbed to death.

Cleaning up

Some wondered aloud in comments on Le Soir’s website whether the murder might precipitate action from the city to clean up the Bouchers area, which has been consistently sold to tourists by Debouvrie and others as a “gastronomic quarter”, despite being typically described by locals as a den of iniquity.

Indeed some restaurant businesses in Rue des Bouchers/Beenhouwersstraat, it has often been alleged, launder the proceeds of operations that are decidedly less gastronomic.

An appetite for average (or worse)

Until relatively recently the area had been a jewel in the crown of the Îlot Sacré, with diners strolling the narrow streets, passing by musicians and entertainers on their way to one of a handful of renowned establishments a very few of which, like Aux Armes de Bruxelles, still survive.

Yet tourists today can expect hawking and hassle from an army of pushy maîtres d’ and a lottery of addresses whose tables are laid on a scale of mediocre to awful. Come September, when Belgium’s moules season begins in earnest, the striking similarity between these baleful brasseries is never more stark.

During my first Brussels sojourn in 2001, having arrived on a £2.89 flight during the early days of budget air travel, l found the crackling, strangely tense atmosphere rather unpalatable. Eventually I ducked into one place and ate a plate of salty snails. And of course, I learned from the experience, then I learned that everyone else already knows everything. From that angle, eating around there could be a rite of passage, a grim initiation ceremony from which things could only get better.

Yet still they flock in their thousands to the same old places and the attitudes of the greasy men out front endure. For every increasingly cynical Bruxellois/Brusseleir who prefers to dine in the communes (and we are joining such ranks), there’s a wide-eyed, camera toting innocent who buys the pitch.

Later, a few of them will muse that the bolognese is better at home. Some will recall how the salad wilted. And many of them will bull it up for the folks at home, then denounce it on Tripadvisor.

Of course, all of that comes later. Meanwhile, the expression on their faces tonight says the snails are a bit salty.

• Director: Joel Coen; Ethan Coen
• United States, 2007
• 

It’s probably fair to say that the Coen brothers had been off their game for a few years. Since 2000’s O Brother Where Art Thou, we’ve had to swallow a lukewarm homage to film noir and a couple of flaccid big studio pictures. With No Country, the brothers are back in town. Yet whilst some Coen trademarks are here in abundance (tight plotting, expansive landscapes) others are noticeably muted (black humour, rich dialogue).

The story is propelled by three characters who never meet until the ends of their respective arcs. When they do meet, there is no interplay. Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) is the central figure, a ne’er do well who happens on a disastrous drug deal and its cash bag. Tracking him is the sociopathic hitman Anton Chigurh who’s no longer focused on the hit. Trailing both is the bemused veteran Sheriff Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) who, as our link to the protagonists, finds such ‘modern’ crimes unfathomable. Woody Harrelson also pops up in a small, scene-stealing role as another hitman dispatched to bring down Chigurh.

This latest effort from the Coens is vintage stuff. Rather than relying so heavily on script, the distinctive sharp taste comes from pure acting and Javier Bardem’s masterful, Oscar-worthy turn as Chigurh drives the film with a crackling, frightening energy. Like the ‘cattlegun’ with which he dispenses people and door locks, Chigurh’s violence is drastic, suddenly explosive yet always controlled. As a result, the always-vacant look in his eyes is something to be feared.

• Director: Bong Joon Ho
• Korea, 2003
• 

Korean cinema is alive and kicking, emboldened and naive like a headstrong teenager with something to prove. One driver is undoubtedly a gutsy brew of high melodrama and truthful acting. Another might be that uniquely Korean gift for all things epic: simple, emotive storytelling with a keen directing wit.

Song Kang Ho runs the whole gamut as a twitchy detective who finds a sort of nobility in Memories of Murder, elevated by the soul searching investigation of a series of killings. Together with out-of-towner Kim Sang Kyung, Song grinds painfully through crime scenes and suspect interviews, finding few clues yet finding himself. Based on a true story, the film plays it humble with excellent humour and fine performances but classic status seems assured within minutes.

Bong Joon Ho here deserves a place on the growing list of talented directors to emerge from the peninsula during the last decade. He deals sensitively with provocative content and provocatively with scenes of rural Korea: it’s a subtle, successful contrast like the perfect balance embodied in the national flag. This is a beautiful film about the preservation of humanity in the face of inhumanity and it’s a triumph of style and substance.

• Director: David Fincher
• United States, 2007
• 

The identity of the perpetrator of five serial murders claimed by the so-called “Zodiac” killer remains a mystery. Inevitably the case has preoccupied the popular media, most famously in the analogy drawn by the “Scorpio” plotline in Dirty Harry. Newspaper cartoonist turned super sleuth Robert Graysmith documents the real-life hunt for Zodiac in his book, upon which Fincher’s weighty film is based.

This is David Fincher’s first feature since 2002’s flimsy Panic Room and he admits to having become as obsessed with the case as Graysmith. In the sustained intensity of the film, almost devoid of the director’s usual action and wrongfoot plotting, there’s ample evidence of that fact. A near-unbelievable volume of research went into the project, producing James Vanderbilt’s commendably sharp script and a unique visual aesthetic. Fincher is in this one up to his neck and though he sometimes struggles to bring together the vast array of factual data with the demands of melodrama and character development, the result is largely successful.

Zodiac is overlong and slightly overambitious. Jake Gyllenhaal tries hard to conjure nuance and depth out of a rather uninvolving portrayal of Graysmith. Elsewhere there are some superb acting performances, notably from Robert Downey Jr – perfectly cast as a drunk and dissolute hack – and a tour-de-force of understated resonance from Mark Ruffalo as the harried detective Toschi.

Fancy a look at the wastrels in your area? Check them out.

They ought to get the old buffers at the Daily Mail in a right lather…

And remember kids, wherever you are: