l’air de Paris

Who…who…is that dashing masked figure? Top-hatted and tuxedoed, he’s dressed to kill. Literally. That’s Fantômas. An answer leading to another question: who…who…is Fantômas?

“It is impossible to say exactly or to know precisely who Fantômas is…no one has ever yet arrived at knowing Fantômas himself. That he is a living person is certain and undeniable, yet he is impossible to catch or to identify. He is nowhere and everywhere at once, his shadow hovers above the strangest mysteries, and his traces are found near the most inexplicable crimes, and yet——”

And yet — that is Fantômas, the French criminal genius, the protagonist of more than thirty novels, the embodiment of and yet —. What’s missing from this particular depiction of Fantômas, what’s been removed from his right hand, is the bloody knife. Fantômas isn’t a gentleman burglar, he’s not an advocate of honor among thieves, he’s not a criminal with a heart of gold. He’s Dexter in evening wear, 90 years before Dexter took his first victim.

Fantômas the Elusive, still lurking in the alleyways and dark corners of Paris.

“Oh, curses on him! Fantômas has escaped! Fantômas has got away! He has had some innocent man executed in his stead! I tell you Fantômas is alive!”

I tell you…Fantômas is alive.

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