All great films, without exception, contain an important element of No Reason. And you know why? Because life itself is filled with No Reason... Ladies, gentlemen, the film you're about to see today is an homage to the No Reason, that most powerful element of style.
That's how
Rubber begins. Or near enough anyway. There is one point previous to the passage that needs to be mentioned- and that is the film's conscious attempt to destabilise the audience's awareness of the position of the Fourth Wall. It isn't just that the introduction- a monologue spoken supposedly directly to the audience- breaks down the fourth wall, in fact it doesn't, because it is eventually quite cleverly revealed to be misdirection: the monologue is not directed at us as an external audience, it is for a group of what seems to be students who themselves are revealed to be an on-screen audience. It's a very strange thing, since we are invited to view not only the events of the "film", which chronicles the murderous rampage of a serial killing telepathic tyre, but also that second audience's reaction to it, though of course their fourth wall is more explicitly broken down as they become actually involved in the film. Anyway, that opening gambit monologue sets the tone perfectly for what is one of the most self-consciously, and gloriously impertinent film I have seen in a long time. So what if it's a film driven by a narrative conceit that is utterly preposterous? Why is a killer tyre any more ridiculous than aliens invading?
. And more importantly who cares anyway?! Rubber is a joyfully made, extremely playful experience that channels the pure experience of the imagination without trivial constraints like logic and reason. It is a film about a killer rubber tyre precisely because it is possible to make a film about a killer rubber tyre- and movie subjects, it seems to argue, should only be restricted by the limits of the imagination.
It is a stranger than fiction bizarro B-movie that is now as infamous as if it had been simmering under the surface, gathering a tide of cult fandom (like say The Boondock Saints) and exploding into mass consciousness by virtue of that massive weight of its cult appeal. Why bizarro? Well, because the B-Movie genre has been misappropriated lately by ironic, self-aware copy-cat films that present the various idiosyncratic quirks of that genre knowingly so we as an audience can share in the experience of recognising and laughing at them. In the same way that the horror genre was almost killed by the post-modern slasher flicks that sprung up in the wake of Scream's success (a murder inspired by love), the B-Movie, already a fragile thing, was killed the minute the film-makers making it decided it was somehow hip to be ironically self-referential. Rubber, on the other hand, is a more fundamentally "B-Movie" B-Movie, because it isn't throw-away in any way: it is a seriously presented film- though of course it is a surrealist comedy in parts- and there is no irony in its mechanics, only in its content. It's a strange, duplicitous creature that demands we take it seriously and laugh at it simultaneously. This is in part reliant on some surprisingly good acting performances from a collection of relative no-ones (mostly TV actors in fact), especially from
Stephen Spinella, Jack Plotnick and
Roxane Mesquida (who was about the only face I recognised- from the equally bonkers Kaboom!) and the refined madness of what is a very tight, minimalist script. It's also short enough that the concept doesn't grate too much, which much surely have been a huge danger given the amount of shots that are solely focused on Robert the tyre (quite a few of which even give us his perspective), though really those shots are filmed so well that it is frighteningly easy to imagine that the tyre- devoid of features- has charisma and a personality. Such is the power of suggestive, artful film-making I guess.
For all the self-indulgent oddity, Rubber is a beautifully shot film. Director
Quentin Dupieux knows how to frame shots very well, whether his subject is a solitary rolling tyre or the vast dessert landscape that the film calls home, and the success of the cinematography adds a depth and a higher quality to the film than its concept alone might have some assume. The technical finesse also serves another purpose: in some ways Rubber is quite a provocative film, it pokes at genre film-making conventions, deconstructs narrative form and it is run by a very arty concept, all of which could well have been a recipe for towering pretension. But, because the film-makers get the basics of audience engagement right, we can forgive them their artier ideas. Overall, Rubber is so much more than just a joke (though I confess that when I walked past a poster of it in Cannes last year I dismissed it as such), and it works so well because Dupieux (otherwise known as musician Mr Oizo) is so unapologetic in the way he embraces the bizarreness of his creation. It isn't perfect, but it's a lot closer to that end of the scale than the lower rungs, and it is definitely worth seeing thanks to its utterly brazen uniqueness. And even though there will be a portion of audiences who despise it, and won't understand what is trying to be done here, but that is sort of the point of the film- it wants to inspire debate, because that invariably comes with the territory for innovative works of art.
Quality
The video transfer is very strong overall- rich in detail and texture, without any noticeable blemishes or tinkering techniques and with a wonderful vibrant attention to colour (which is especially impressive for a relatively muted overall palette. The sound track is just as impressive, with some excellent and atmospherically affecting musical choices (and a killer signature tune that also plays over the Blu-ray menu) sounding exceptionally well looked after. But then, this is the work of a musician (and one with considerable technical prowess), so sound was never going to be a problem. The sound effects, especially the sound of exploding heads, are perfectly loaded and do their job wonderfully, making for an impressive, immersive transfer all round.
Extras
There isn't exactly a lot here, but the quality of the interviews with cast members are very good (and less promo-like than usual), and the one with director Dupieux is almost as much of a curio as the film itself, with the director extending his mischievous sense of creativity here into the extra supplements. I won't say anymore than that, as it would spoil the surprise, but there is a delightful naughtiness and provocation about what he has done that definitely deserves discovery. The Teaser Test footage is probably best ignored though, as it is pretty joyless and unrewarding. Interviews: Quentin Dupieux, Stephen Spinella, Jack Plotnick, Roxane Mesquida Teaser Test Trailer
Rubber was released on
Blu-ray this week.