Monday, 3 October 2011

Rubber, dir/wr. Quentin Dupieux, st. Stephen Spinella, Roxane Mesquida, Jack Plotnick

Pretty much from the off, the parameters of the genre are laid down, explicitly, straight to camera; "You probably never gave it a thought, but all great films, without exception, contain an important element of no reason". Dupieux's film, about a rubber tyre that merrily rolls along a deserted dusty highway, pausing only to obsess over Roxane Mesquida and telekinetically explode heads in a Scanner-like fashion, claims to be a homage to this 'no reason' philosophy, and is largely successful whether we like it or not. Watching Rubber doesn't make for an especially cohesive experience, but that's not to say the film is a muddled bore, in fact for such a gleefully boastful stylistic premise, the chaos is orchestrated in a rather linear, if not absurdist way. There are a number of neat little Beckettian and Pinter-esque nods; fourth walls are broken down, and meta-theatricality is explored as we see an on-screen audience handed binoculars and instructed to observe the unfolding action, the idea of film-within-a-film. As you would expect with this kind of experimental film-making it's more about the form than the content, there's not much else to get your teeth into, but if you have a spare 80 minutes and want to see something unlike anything you're ever going to willingly see again, you could do a lot worse than give this a go.