*** out of ****
Directed by: Jean-Pierre Jeunet
Starring: Dany Boon, Andre Dussollier, Nicolas Marie, Dominique Pinon and Julie Ferrier
Running time: 104 minutes
Ever since his one-two punch of Amelie and A Very Long Engagement enraptured critics and audiences (of the art-house kind), French auteur Jean-Pierre Jeunet took a small absence from the big screen. Judging by his latest project, Micmacs, it wouldn’t be unlikely if he had run away with the circus.
That’s because his latest satire, one which targets weapons manufacturing, is less a coherent film than one dazzling set-piece of shenanigans after another.
It tells the story of Bazil (French comedian Dany Boon), a video store owner whose cross with a store-side shooting leaves a bullet submerged halfway through his head, and has made him go a little haywire.
Out of work and with nowhere to go after leaving the hospital (the surgeons decide not to tamper with the metal fragments close to his brain), he is introduced to a band of misfits that are just as nuts as he is.
Among them is a human calculator, a toy-maker, a human cannonball, and an African whose vocabulary is limited to catchphrases and sayings you'd find in fortune cookies. Oh, and of course, a contortionist with a heart of gold.
Together, Bazil and his compadres set out to turn two rival munitions makers (Andre Dussollier and Nicolas Marie) against each other: one who produced the bullet lodged inside Bazil’s head, and one that is responsible for the land mine that offed his father and left him an orphan.
Paying homage to the silent-era zaniness of Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin fare, Micmacs is light on its feet and agile in its comedic timing. If comedies were measured in smiles per minute, rather than laughs, this would be the funniest film of the year.
Raphael Beau’s score is whimsical and charming, and the cutting keeps the loopy missions coherent and sly jokes astutely timed and hard-to-miss.
The remarkably intricate design from Jeunet’s go-to decorator Aline Bonetto is also top-notch. The grandest set is the troupe’s junk-strapped home base, an overstuffed collection of mechanics and assortments not unlike what you’d expect to find in a shop from Diagon Alley (yes, that was a Harry Potter reference).
The dazzling set of cons assembled by Bazil and his crew are easily the highlights of the film. They range from espionage to explosions, and these nimble, multifaceted executions are a joy to behold. We love it when their plans come together.
Thankfully, the film is not all pyrotechnics and Rube Goldberg contraptions. Jeunet remembers to paint some of the misfits as people with purpose and a loyal camaraderie to each other.
Julie Ferrier’s contortionist bends to the demands of the others and Bazil, with whom she kindles a romance with, but is unhappy to be looked at as merely an object to assist his vengeful mission.
But other characters pile on the quirks without revealing any backstory to explain their craziness. Furthermore, many of them lack qualities that we could relate with.
Their over-embellished quirks are cute and amusing at first, but after a while, many of these cuckoos start to grate on our nerves. They feel more like pawns to assist the protagonist than living, breathing creations.
One’s adoration of Micmacs may depend on how much quirk your system can swallow in one sitting. Yet it’s a welcome relief in a summer of big, bodacious blockbusters to spend time with a wacky bunch of inspired characters, under the helm of a director with no shortage of ideas. It’s not the delicious charmer that Amelie was, but it’s a nifty treat nevertheless.
No comments:
Post a Comment