An oddity among oddities. A mostly dialogue-less import, the dichromatic (copper and blue-gray) movie is an industrialized festival of collected quirks.Falling somewhere within the fanciful realms of the imaginary masturbation of Jeunet et Caro and early Lynch. An Eraserhead-ish tyrant rules the barren landscape where a dilapidated indoor pool attracts a traveling father and daughter when their ship breaks down. How to lure them away from the naÔve, love-struck owner?: condemn the establishment ó by sabotage. The movieís scale is small, but that doesnít prevent it from drawing plenty of attention to itself, and even from coming off at time to time as ingenious or clever. Adept use is certainly made of those available resources, quaintly captured by the visual zeal; director Viet Helmerís bricolage turns out closer to a collage from a graphic novel than a cinematic candy. For a while, it is fun to stare at, observe, or even taste. But the flavor runs out, the drawings donít see much variation, and you know where it will end up before the movie does itself. There is an atrophy of the affectation of sound, gesture, speed, reaction. It is only an anachronistic iconoclasm because Helmer views that as the objective to emulate. It is only idiosyncratic because the movie poses as a world unto itself, for itself. Still, for however long you can stare at it, or suck on it, there is no discounting that part of it which is fun.
With Denis Lavant and Chulpan Hamatova.[Worth-seeing.]