Twentynine Palms (2003)
Country: FR/GER/US
Technical: col/2.35:1 114m
Director: Bruno Dumont
Cast: Yekaterina Golubeva, David Wissak
Synopsis:
A photographer takes his Russian girlfriend out from L.A. into the Mojave Desert to scout locations for a shoot. In between al-fresco love-making and impromptu driving lessons they bicker and fight in broken French. Then, after a brutal encounter in the desert during which he is gang-raped, he loses it and stabs her to death with a penknife.
Review:
The actual narrative setup is guess work, since we only have one phone call with the outside world in which the protagonist talks about what he is doing, and he never once looks through a camera lens! Instead, he points his off-road vehicle aimlessly at stretches of desert track before returning to their hotel. There are hints, of course, at what Dumont is really going on about: the similarity of it all to Antonioni's Zabriskie Point bespeaks pretensions of anomie; the real or at times affected incomprehension between the lovers hints at a fundamental incompatibility: brute man who can only think about his next orgasm vs free-spirited woman who is all giving and all heart; and earlier premonitions of the climactic gratuity (painful coitus, talk of cutting his hair like a skinhead, the feral bellow that heralds his coming) that do nothing to justify its bizarreness. The final shot of course also reminds us of The Passenger, except that whereas Antonioni's camera circles and pivots around Nicholson's cadaver, and even passes through a window, Dumont's remains static and aloft. It's 'm'as-tu vu' film-making, to be sure, but what is he getting at? That you don't need facile plotting to trigger gothic horror; an ordinary couple in prolonged isolation is enough. But in a sense facile is what we get: after all, the film's locations constantly make us think of exploitation cinema, and we are waiting for that white pickup to swerve in, stage left. One thing is for sure: you will remember it for days afterwards, and talk about it. Note: the title in fact refers to a location in California but is only visible once during the film, on the side of a truck that Katya hides behind.
Country: FR/GER/US
Technical: col/2.35:1 114m
Director: Bruno Dumont
Cast: Yekaterina Golubeva, David Wissak
Synopsis:
A photographer takes his Russian girlfriend out from L.A. into the Mojave Desert to scout locations for a shoot. In between al-fresco love-making and impromptu driving lessons they bicker and fight in broken French. Then, after a brutal encounter in the desert during which he is gang-raped, he loses it and stabs her to death with a penknife.
Review:
The actual narrative setup is guess work, since we only have one phone call with the outside world in which the protagonist talks about what he is doing, and he never once looks through a camera lens! Instead, he points his off-road vehicle aimlessly at stretches of desert track before returning to their hotel. There are hints, of course, at what Dumont is really going on about: the similarity of it all to Antonioni's Zabriskie Point bespeaks pretensions of anomie; the real or at times affected incomprehension between the lovers hints at a fundamental incompatibility: brute man who can only think about his next orgasm vs free-spirited woman who is all giving and all heart; and earlier premonitions of the climactic gratuity (painful coitus, talk of cutting his hair like a skinhead, the feral bellow that heralds his coming) that do nothing to justify its bizarreness. The final shot of course also reminds us of The Passenger, except that whereas Antonioni's camera circles and pivots around Nicholson's cadaver, and even passes through a window, Dumont's remains static and aloft. It's 'm'as-tu vu' film-making, to be sure, but what is he getting at? That you don't need facile plotting to trigger gothic horror; an ordinary couple in prolonged isolation is enough. But in a sense facile is what we get: after all, the film's locations constantly make us think of exploitation cinema, and we are waiting for that white pickup to swerve in, stage left. One thing is for sure: you will remember it for days afterwards, and talk about it. Note: the title in fact refers to a location in California but is only visible once during the film, on the side of a truck that Katya hides behind.
Country: FR/GER/US
Technical: col/2.35:1 114m
Director: Bruno Dumont
Cast: Yekaterina Golubeva, David Wissak
Synopsis:
A photographer takes his Russian girlfriend out from L.A. into the Mojave Desert to scout locations for a shoot. In between al-fresco love-making and impromptu driving lessons they bicker and fight in broken French. Then, after a brutal encounter in the desert during which he is gang-raped, he loses it and stabs her to death with a penknife.
Review:
The actual narrative setup is guess work, since we only have one phone call with the outside world in which the protagonist talks about what he is doing, and he never once looks through a camera lens! Instead, he points his off-road vehicle aimlessly at stretches of desert track before returning to their hotel. There are hints, of course, at what Dumont is really going on about: the similarity of it all to Antonioni's Zabriskie Point bespeaks pretensions of anomie; the real or at times affected incomprehension between the lovers hints at a fundamental incompatibility: brute man who can only think about his next orgasm vs free-spirited woman who is all giving and all heart; and earlier premonitions of the climactic gratuity (painful coitus, talk of cutting his hair like a skinhead, the feral bellow that heralds his coming) that do nothing to justify its bizarreness. The final shot of course also reminds us of The Passenger, except that whereas Antonioni's camera circles and pivots around Nicholson's cadaver, and even passes through a window, Dumont's remains static and aloft. It's 'm'as-tu vu' film-making, to be sure, but what is he getting at? That you don't need facile plotting to trigger gothic horror; an ordinary couple in prolonged isolation is enough. But in a sense facile is what we get: after all, the film's locations constantly make us think of exploitation cinema, and we are waiting for that white pickup to swerve in, stage left. One thing is for sure: you will remember it for days afterwards, and talk about it. Note: the title in fact refers to a location in California but is only visible once during the film, on the side of a truck that Katya hides behind.