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TWENTYNINE
PALMS
6/10
France (Fr/Ger) 2003 : Bruno DUMONT : 119 mins
Oh brother… Where to begin with this one? Best to begin at the end, which
is so radically unexpected/horrible Dumont must either be some kind of
bonkers genius or worst kind of talentless art-house fraudster. No middle-ground
possible. At memorable London Film Festival screening, restless (highbrow)
audience audibly hostile during credit-roll – barest smattering of
applause. Which this reviewer joined in, if only as recognition of Dumont’s
sheer psychotic chutzpah – revolted patron behind groaned
(to himself) “Ohh, don’t clap…” Some reactions
even more extreme: several walk-outs; one carry-out (woman fainted, taken
away on stretcher); many ‘survivors’ who toughed it out heard
severely ‘dissing’ picture, Dumont and Festival programmers
on way to exits.
So why the fuss? Unfair to describe deliriously extreme final reel in detail;
very little ‘warning’ given during preceding soporific 110 minutes.
These consist of mismatched romantic couple David (David Wissak) and Katia
(Katia Golubeva) driving across California from Los Angeles to Twentynine
Palms. Along way conduct broken-English/broken-French conversations, but
never quite manage to overcome language barrier. Main mode of communication
is physical: intense (surprisingly positive) sex in soulless motel rooms
and pools. ‘Plot’ concerns remain elusive – he’s supposedly
scouting locations for movie. She seems to be tagging along for ride.
Pair don’t interact much with anyone else. Main drama – before final
cataclysm – comes when they come across pair of dogs who she (irresponsibly)
encourages to run alongside car, with predictably unfortunate consequences.
“I don’t think they’re gonna understand your French, honey!”
he scolds. Is whole film about such breakdowns in communication? Hard
to tell. Alienation/inscrutability are keywords – California just
as autistic an environment as Dumont’s Flanders-border hometown Bailleul,
locus of first two (pretentious/profound) movies The Life of Jesus
(1996) and Humanity
(1999): as saying goes, you can take the boy out of Bailleul…
Early stretches: a James Benning
road-movie. Blank landscape repeatedly contemplated. Imagine The Vanishing,
except without any vanishing. Antonioni ahoy: L’Avventura meets
Zabriskie Point (hard to shake Variety’s withering
dismissal of Twentynine Palms as ‘Zabriskie Pointless’.)
Van Sant’s Gerry, Weir’s Picnic at Hanging Rock.
Genre of back-o-beyond ominousness, the horror of a clear blue sky. With
added sexathons, since it’s a French picture.
Not entirely humourless, however. In motel room, they watch what look amusingly
like shadowy out-takes from Mulholland
Dr.. “An art-film,” he numbly intones. Motel rooms identical?
Or do they keep returning to same motel? Disorientation sets in early,
eyelids start to sag soon after. Unappealing leads: maddeningly volatile
Katia, craggy David (looks like cross between Oasis’s Liam and Sonic
Youth’s Lee). His noisy climaxes generate (unintentional?) audience
mirth. Pseudo-existentialism very easy to mock as pretentious: Grandrieux’s
La Vie Nouvelle would
make soul-sapping double bill.
And yet, and yet… In retrospect, Dumont’s USA always irrationally
dangerous space: when trying to crossing road, they’re bawled out
by insanely abusive truck-driver. Funny at time, nasty portent in retrospect.
Easy Rider-ish vibe has been there from the start – and explodes
into the foreground in bizarro final minutes. Dumont’s own “noisy
climax”: genuinely shocking and disturbing violence – nightmarish…
but gratuitous? Aftermath: extended, grimly poetic last long-shot –
audience stunned/revolted by this point. Neutrality isn’t option.
For that, and maybe only that, some smattering of applause is surely justified.
21st November, 2003
(seen 1st November : Odeon West End, London – London
Film Festival)
Director Bruno
Dumont on Twentynine Palms here
Can't wait to find out what happens at the end? Click
here for spoiler-tastic fun!
click here for a full list of films covered
at the 2003 London Film Festival
by Neil
Young
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