There are some hints as to what the film is "about"; it begins with Carax himself opening a hidden door to a theater, looking in on an full audience. The film is bookended by clips from the early days of film. Oscar's job seems to be sort of a performance artist actor, filling roles in other peoples' lives or characters that fill a purpose. He goes from appointment to appointment in a limo containing a plethora of wigs, outfits, and makeup that transform him into each person. Though we never find out exactly who or what he works for, we do meet Oscar's direct superior and a former colleague, and their conversation reveals that the performer profession is a dying breed, at least as he and Oscar know it. Times are changing for performers, and neither Oscar nor his superior like where they are going. There is a definite nostalgia for film and filmmaking of the past, as well as a disdain for digital and CGI, and the central focus of the film is all about identity and performance in everyday life. Lavant shows this off in full force, throwing himself into every role physically and emotionally.
Fortunately, the film isn't all nostalgia; the digital cinematography is dark, crisp, and stunning, and Oscar's appointments range from shocking to emotional to just plain funny. The most memorable role is also the hardest to explain; he plays some sort of graveyard troll-thing who gobbles random objects and terrorizes the public and a photo shoot, where the photographer is taken aback by his weirdness. The entire thing is bizarre, goofy, and fun, and it's easy to just go along with the madness. There are many other moments of absurdity, some which work better than others, but nothing tops Lavant's troll kidnapping a model while the photographer chases after him orgasmically screaming "Weird! Weird! Weird!" as he tries to snap pictures of the scene.
And while that weird is fun, there are other weird moments that don't seem to fit. The goofiness in that scene is perfect, but after a while it's harder and harder to just accept what's happening without any sort of explanation or theme in sight. Along with the troll there are also some chimps, talking cars, dopplegangers, and a double suicide that has no problem showing all the blood that comes from a skull smashed against the pavement. (That last one is what shook me out of Holy Motors' groove, which isn't the film's fault, but after that I think my brain was pretty much done with following anything.) The film is a puzzle, but it feels like you're missing a few crucial pieces and every once in a while you're interrupted and given either a good cookie or some salami that's in the shape of a puzzle piece. The cookie is nice, but what the hell are you supposed to do with the salami? Eat it? Put it in the puzzle? Find some bread and make a sandwich? Eat it with the cookie? By the end I was wondering just what the hell I was even watching.
Apparently Holy Motors is easier to understand if you know Carax's backstory and his filmography; I've read that a character in one of his earlier films is played by Oscar here, and one event may be related to a tragedy in his personal life, but in my opinion, that shouldn't be a requirement to understanding what's going on in front of you. References are well and good, but I shouldn't be expected to do homework in order to have the most basic understanding of what I just watched. Of course, I may be thinking about it too much; Holy Motors is, above all else, a surrealist film, and I've never been good with those. I'll be completely honest: they frustrate me and make me feel pretty dumb. Therefore I wouldn't say that Holy Motors is bad or disjointed or even significantly flawed, but it's definitely...challenging. Carax refuses to give any concrete answers both in the film and in interviews, which comes off as very..stereotypically artsy, I guess. I don't want to say that Holy Motors is the type of artsy French film that many people imagine when you mention you're going to see a French film since that carries an annoyingly negative connotation...but the title of this post is there for a reason. (It's part of a text conversation between me and a friend right after the film.) When I left the theater, I don't think I knew much more about the film than I did going in, if that's even possible, and explaining it to anybody seems impossible. It's probably a great example of an "art film," and I'm not entirely sure if I mean that as a compliment or not.
Fortunately, the film isn't all nostalgia; the digital cinematography is dark, crisp, and stunning, and Oscar's appointments range from shocking to emotional to just plain funny. The most memorable role is also the hardest to explain; he plays some sort of graveyard troll-thing who gobbles random objects and terrorizes the public and a photo shoot, where the photographer is taken aback by his weirdness. The entire thing is bizarre, goofy, and fun, and it's easy to just go along with the madness. There are many other moments of absurdity, some which work better than others, but nothing tops Lavant's troll kidnapping a model while the photographer chases after him orgasmically screaming "Weird! Weird! Weird!" as he tries to snap pictures of the scene.
And while that weird is fun, there are other weird moments that don't seem to fit. The goofiness in that scene is perfect, but after a while it's harder and harder to just accept what's happening without any sort of explanation or theme in sight. Along with the troll there are also some chimps, talking cars, dopplegangers, and a double suicide that has no problem showing all the blood that comes from a skull smashed against the pavement. (That last one is what shook me out of Holy Motors' groove, which isn't the film's fault, but after that I think my brain was pretty much done with following anything.) The film is a puzzle, but it feels like you're missing a few crucial pieces and every once in a while you're interrupted and given either a good cookie or some salami that's in the shape of a puzzle piece. The cookie is nice, but what the hell are you supposed to do with the salami? Eat it? Put it in the puzzle? Find some bread and make a sandwich? Eat it with the cookie? By the end I was wondering just what the hell I was even watching.
Apparently Holy Motors is easier to understand if you know Carax's backstory and his filmography; I've read that a character in one of his earlier films is played by Oscar here, and one event may be related to a tragedy in his personal life, but in my opinion, that shouldn't be a requirement to understanding what's going on in front of you. References are well and good, but I shouldn't be expected to do homework in order to have the most basic understanding of what I just watched. Of course, I may be thinking about it too much; Holy Motors is, above all else, a surrealist film, and I've never been good with those. I'll be completely honest: they frustrate me and make me feel pretty dumb. Therefore I wouldn't say that Holy Motors is bad or disjointed or even significantly flawed, but it's definitely...challenging. Carax refuses to give any concrete answers both in the film and in interviews, which comes off as very..stereotypically artsy, I guess. I don't want to say that Holy Motors is the type of artsy French film that many people imagine when you mention you're going to see a French film since that carries an annoyingly negative connotation...but the title of this post is there for a reason. (It's part of a text conversation between me and a friend right after the film.) When I left the theater, I don't think I knew much more about the film than I did going in, if that's even possible, and explaining it to anybody seems impossible. It's probably a great example of an "art film," and I'm not entirely sure if I mean that as a compliment or not.
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