Daaaaaalí
Quentin Dupieux
2023, 68 mins.
Ego on a brush
For anyone unfamiliar with one of the greatest surreal artists of all time, I expect they’ll be hitting the reject button no more than 15 minutes in. For the rest of us, it’s well worth the wait of an interminable dream, fake art, failed careers and an interview that may or may not come to any screen no matter how big or small.
Playing the unforgettably moustachioed artist are a covey of actors of all shapes and ages (Edouard Baer, Jonathan Cohen, Gilles Lellouche, Pio Marmaï, and, notably, Didier Flamand as the here-again-gone-again elder).
The slight premise is pharmacist-turned-journalist Judith Rochant (Anaïs Demoustier carries much of the film on her determined to get the story—no matter how long it takes—slight shoulders). Producer largely in the background (but apparently with deep pockets) is Romain Duris as Jérôme. Desperately trying to tie everything together is Father Jacques with a dream that must be told in full no matter how many times it takes to reach the coda (Éric Naggar, a veritable blessing in disguise for the script—also by Dupieux).
Thomas Bangaler’s guitar-rich score adds much to the non-linear tale, but like Dalí’s painting themselves, it’s entirely up to the viewer’s/listener’s aesthetics and experience to know just what to make of everything seen and heard.
Largely ignore all of the action (from vicar shootings to the demise of live pigeons) but savour the mood and feel before revisiting some of the master’s finest works (my favourite being The Metamorphosis of Narcissus, 1937). JWR
Touch
Baltasar Kormákur
2024, 121 mins.
Not quite the spoils of war
Even as the possibility of WW III looms large, it’s encouraging to have a film that celebrates life in the devastation of death (in this case, the utter destruction of Hiroshima).
Egill Ólafsson is simply marvellous as the man, Kristófer, searching for his past lo these many decades ago. Yoko Narahashi is wonderfully nuanced playing Miko, briefly the object of Kristófer’s desires. Once finally reunited, much truth is told and the product of their love revealed.
Högni Egilsson’s discreet score is at one with Kormákur’s (along with co-writer Olaf Olafsson’s) vision. Cinematographer Bergsteinn Björgúlfsson never misses a frame while editor Sigurður Eyþórsson seamlessly binds everything into a convincing whole.
A viewing is highly recommended in these charged times, if only to remind one and all that even with calamitous events, wonderful things can still happen, if only we have the courage to look.
Touching indeed. JWR