From left, Rebecca Marder, Isabelle Huppert, and Nadia Tereszkiewicz in The Crime Is Mine (Music Box Films)

The title of François Ozon’s The Crime Is Mine reflects the film’s spirit: taking a murder to heart with brio and pride. This daffy, witty, and women-driven comedy harks back to Ozon’s delightful Eight Women and revels in the brazen vibe of Chicago while forging ahead on its own madcap energy.

A plucky young pair of girlfriends could use a break in 1930s Paris—shot with jaunty, bright period costumes, and stagy exteriors and rendered with a script that parodies the era’s stagey dialogue. Seductive, capricious blonde actress Madeleine (Nadia Tereszkiewicz) and her sharp brunette lawyer roommate Pauline (Rebecca Marder) are teetering one step away from eviction. Pauline dodges their furious landlord’s demands for rent in a rapidly choreographed dance of slapstick and rapid-fire excuse-making. Madeleine, on the other hand, has to contend with a fatuous boyfriend whose rich family won’t let him marry her. “I’m a bad actress, you’re a bad lawyer. No one loves us,” frets Madeleine.

But when the actress’s tussle with a producer on the casting couch leads to a shocking murder, the duo is headed for more attention than they ever expected. The unsolved case goes to trial and becomes a media sensation, with Madeleine vamping in the stands and rookie Pauline boldly stepping up as her attorney. In court, Pauline manages to get in some feminist zingers: “We’re considered children for our rights, adults for our mistakes!” France is currently going through a #MeToo moment, and the movie takes women’s frequent plight seriously, but with humor and wit.

The actual murder is a mystery, with Ozon playfully swapping out alternate whodunit scenarios. The director sends up pompous (male) French officialdom, eager to censoriously point fingers for the crime, but also enjoys poking fun at Madeleine reveling in her newfound tabloid fame. Lately cast as a pouty enfant terrible, Tereszkiewicz (Only the Animals) shows a real flair for comedy. She and Marder play off each other and toss the fast-paced wordy dialogue back and forth like screwball pros. (It’s one of the film’s pleasures that offhand lines often land as well as the jokes). Black-and-white film “excerpts” cleverly parody the cinema of the period, The Artist–style.

Cameos add bubbles to the already high quotient of fizz. Dany Boon is on hand deploying a Marseille accent like a string of greasy duck calls. André Dussollier seems to enjoy playing a bourgeois buffoon instead of his usual icy éminences grises. Best of all is an over-the-top Isabelle Huppert having a ball as a faded silent film star angling for a comeback and looking to co-opt the younger actress’s celebrity. Huppert brings knowing star power to every scene she’s in.

Ozon gets sharp performances from emerging young actresses playing out his clever—and challenging—scenarios. Old pros effortlessly draw on their top game. And pop culture references add comic nostalgia while conferring homage to classic cinema. The Crime Is Mine is a charming, effervescent, and smart addition to François Ozon’s always fast-moving, fast-changing body of work.