Slack Bay (2016)
(Ma Loute)
Country: FR/GER/BEL
Technical: col/2.35:1 122m
Director: Bruno Dumont
Cast: Fabrice Luchini, Juliette Binoche, Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, Didier Després
Synopsis:
1910: the Van Peteghems, a family of industrialist in-breds from Tourcoing, arrive at their summer retreat on the north coast amid reports of disappearing tourists. The obese Ch'timi police inspector and his assistant narrow their investigations to a local in-bred family of fishers who operate the ferry service across the bay, and whose eldest takes a shine to the more attractive of the Van Peteghem progeny, a boy passing himself off as a girl.
Review:
A cosmic comic misfire from Dumont, who cross-breeds his own brand of brutish pastoral with Bunuelian surrealism and Jacques Tati. The results are less 'discreet charm' and more 'cannibal farm'. The upper class characters are made to overact outrageously (Luchini just about pulls it off while retaining some semblance of humanity), and both they and the inspector squeak as they move around as if they are made of patent leather. Meanwhile the anthropophagous Bruforts, whose son gives the film its French title, persist mostly in dumb silence as they observe the increasingly bizarre antics of their next square meal. When certain characters begin to float up in the air as if possessed by some Pas-de-Calais guignol, we really begin to wonder what on earth is meant by it all. Is it the last revenge of their future cannon fodder on the industrial bourgeoisie? A warning against the dangers of country life? Whatever the case, it is strangely compelling while it plays, like sitting through a howlingly misjudged best man's speech delivered by a drunkard.
(Ma Loute)
Country: FR/GER/BEL
Technical: col/2.35:1 122m
Director: Bruno Dumont
Cast: Fabrice Luchini, Juliette Binoche, Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, Didier Després
Synopsis:
1910: the Van Peteghems, a family of industrialist in-breds from Tourcoing, arrive at their summer retreat on the north coast amid reports of disappearing tourists. The obese Ch'timi police inspector and his assistant narrow their investigations to a local in-bred family of fishers who operate the ferry service across the bay, and whose eldest takes a shine to the more attractive of the Van Peteghem progeny, a boy passing himself off as a girl.
Review:
A cosmic comic misfire from Dumont, who cross-breeds his own brand of brutish pastoral with Bunuelian surrealism and Jacques Tati. The results are less 'discreet charm' and more 'cannibal farm'. The upper class characters are made to overact outrageously (Luchini just about pulls it off while retaining some semblance of humanity), and both they and the inspector squeak as they move around as if they are made of patent leather. Meanwhile the anthropophagous Bruforts, whose son gives the film its French title, persist mostly in dumb silence as they observe the increasingly bizarre antics of their next square meal. When certain characters begin to float up in the air as if possessed by some Pas-de-Calais guignol, we really begin to wonder what on earth is meant by it all. Is it the last revenge of their future cannon fodder on the industrial bourgeoisie? A warning against the dangers of country life? Whatever the case, it is strangely compelling while it plays, like sitting through a howlingly misjudged best man's speech delivered by a drunkard.
(Ma Loute)
Country: FR/GER/BEL
Technical: col/2.35:1 122m
Director: Bruno Dumont
Cast: Fabrice Luchini, Juliette Binoche, Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, Didier Després
Synopsis:
1910: the Van Peteghems, a family of industrialist in-breds from Tourcoing, arrive at their summer retreat on the north coast amid reports of disappearing tourists. The obese Ch'timi police inspector and his assistant narrow their investigations to a local in-bred family of fishers who operate the ferry service across the bay, and whose eldest takes a shine to the more attractive of the Van Peteghem progeny, a boy passing himself off as a girl.
Review:
A cosmic comic misfire from Dumont, who cross-breeds his own brand of brutish pastoral with Bunuelian surrealism and Jacques Tati. The results are less 'discreet charm' and more 'cannibal farm'. The upper class characters are made to overact outrageously (Luchini just about pulls it off while retaining some semblance of humanity), and both they and the inspector squeak as they move around as if they are made of patent leather. Meanwhile the anthropophagous Bruforts, whose son gives the film its French title, persist mostly in dumb silence as they observe the increasingly bizarre antics of their next square meal. When certain characters begin to float up in the air as if possessed by some Pas-de-Calais guignol, we really begin to wonder what on earth is meant by it all. Is it the last revenge of their future cannon fodder on the industrial bourgeoisie? A warning against the dangers of country life? Whatever the case, it is strangely compelling while it plays, like sitting through a howlingly misjudged best man's speech delivered by a drunkard.