Definitely a French Film

There had been a movie I wanted to see (ie drag Corrie to) at whatever indie theater might show it down here, but I was busy and forgot and time passed. I did, though, find it on streaming Netflix, and Corrie and I watched it. She thought it was mostly stupid, or weird, but I, knowing more about it beforehand I guess, liked it. It was definitely weird.

Although it was filmed in desert regions in south-eastern California, its writer and director were one in the same, and his name is Quentin Dupieux.

Here's the poster that reveals the name of the film:

I seem to remember the name being Robert when I first read about the movie.

In a nutshell Robert is the name of the main character, a rubber tire that has come to life, discovered that it has telekinetic powers, falls in love, and gruesomely murders all sorts of people. Now don't you want to see it? Is it just me that reads that premise and says: That's one for me?

You don't have to recognize the Frenchness to understand right away that the movie's not American. The storyline isn't particularly European; you could say that it's a commentary on wasteful American habits, that we should be killed violently by our newly-sentient garbage, but really it's not so different from The Birds or Attack of the Killer Tomatoes--the absurd just happens for no reason, and you have to deal with it...sorta.

The first two minutes let you know it's not American, or typical. Somebody like David Lynch does things that are very un-American when it comes to his fever-dream-like movies, but still, not like the opening of this movie.

When it opens the camera is set in the middle of a long dusty street, a wide angle lens shows a car pointed in the camera's direction off in the distance. Between the camera and the car along the side of the road are cheap looking wooden dining room-style chairs. The car, as it slowly drives towards the camera, swings widely back and forth across the street, knocking over every chair and breaking them.

It's bizarre to look at, and is a way to get a schmuck like me hooked. It takes its time and unfolds in a single long take. The car is a police cruiser, and when it stops the driver gets out and opens up the trunk. A cop gets out of the trunk, grabs a glass of water from car, and addresses the camera. His soliloquy about the rampant "for no apparent reason" in movies has you thinking okaaaaay, and when finished, despite the obvious blinding heat and glaring sky, he pours the water onto the ground.

It turns out he's not talking to home-viewers, he's addressing "viewers of the movie", a set of spectators that have binoculars and occasionally comment on the tire-story-movie in one of the most bizarre side narratives ever. The spectators are forced to sleep outdoors as they follow along with the Robert the Tire's story, and then they're poisoned...most of them anyway...

I'm telling you, this is the Frenchest wacky California desert movie ever.

Another way to tell it's French (or not American) is the heroine, if you can call her that. She's a sexy brunette. I mean that in the sense that she's not one of America's anorexic impossibly skinny movie starlets. She's not 5'10" and 120 pounds of t&a, and she's not blonde. She's just a regular and believable sexy girl, the kind that are accepted in France.

In a scene where she checks into a motel, she calls home to leave a message for her mom (or talk to her, maybe, concerning her trip's progress) before she gets into the shower, and you can tell from her accent that she's French.

If you have streaming Netflix and are in the mood for one of the most original films around, check it out. If you don't have streaming Netflix, but like the idea of telekinetic murderous tires, locate this movie and take a gander.