Rubber

"The film you are about to see is an homage to 'no reason', that most powerful element of style." This is the manifesto that opens Rubber, delivered directly to the audience in a breaking of the fourth wall that is somewhat like taking a pound of dynamite to a pane of glass.

Rubber is a "horror" film about a black rubber car tyre that kills people by making their heads explode. With telepathy. And when I say "horror" I do of course mean "side-splittingly funny, pitch black, absurdist comedy." The opening scenes of Rubber are a deliberate assault on the separation between the audience and the film. Normally the opening sequence of a film seeks to bring you into the world of the film; the audience is encouraged to step through the silver screen and forget about the real world for the duration of the story. Rubber perverts these expectations. The film comes crashing through the screen, into the world of the audience. It reminds us at every turn that we are watching a film, and indeed that the very act of our watching is what makes the film happen.

There are actually two plot lines at work in Rubber. The first concerns a murderous inanimate object , an innocent but spirited young woman on the run from some troubled element of her past, and the county sheriff on the trail of the vulcanised psychopath. This is ostensibly the core thread of the movie, but we soon see that this action only serves as a literal distraction for the audience, who exist in the film, embodied as actual participants, though ones who remain clearly and distinctly removed from the action, watching events at a distance through field glasses. This distraction covers the real story, that of the sheriff, who is in fact the antagonist of the story, attempting to kill off the audience (through the manoeuvrings of his toady, The Accountant) so that the film can end and he can go home.

The movie within the movie begins with a sequence that could have come straight from Leone's scrapbook. A man lies face down in a desert. Slowly, he rises, and shakes himself off. He staggers along, and falls. He rises again, and continues to stagger on, through the endless desert. Except that the "man" in question is a rubber tyre (Roger, according to the credits). This is the brilliance of Rubber; that it can appropriate the cinematic language that we are so familiar with, and apply it to situations that cannot be anything but utterly absurd.

Other scenes lift from a variety of sources, including a sequence that takes place in what is clearly the Bates hotel from the original Psycho. For a film that claims to be dedicated to meaninglessness, it is ironic that not a single frame is without a clear purpose. Every shot serves to either ensconce us in the impossible world of a rubber tyre who murders people, or tear us forcibly out of it, as we return repeatedly to the plight of the poor audience, stranded in the desert with no food, and prey to depredations of a murderous cast member, or possibly character. It's never clear whether the antagonist is an actor who wants to stop playing his role, or a character in a story who wants the story itself to end; the latter appeals, if only for its deeply apocalyptic subtext. When the film ends, where does the character go?).

Even the choice of the supposed villain must have taken a great deal of thought. It's such an elegant choice; an object capable of locomotion, but without moving parts to cutely animate. Something that has an element of menace (after all, a tyre, attached to a vehicle, can do a lot of damage), but is also innately ridiculous. An object that can fulfill the emotive needs of the film yet has remarkably little capacity to emote. Consider that all this thing can do is roll forward, roll backwards, fall over, stand up, and vibrate its sides. That's a sum total of five things you can ask your star to do for you on screen. As a film-making challenge alone, that's a spectacular feat to undertake.

I could go on for days about the tiniest of "seemingly irrelevant but incredibly well thought out" details that litter the film. That Rubber invites such complex readings is a testament to the subtlety that underlies the simple brilliance of the film itself. Whatever you may think about the subtext and meaning of this supposedly meaningless film, it doesn't really matter if Rubber "means" anything or not, because whatever else it may be, the film is absolutely hilarious. We are talking literal "tears of laughter" funny here.

Quentin Dupieux provides us with excellent cinematography, full of lingering establishing shots and vivid, often deliberately off-frame close-ups, and the cast all turn in magnificent performances, especially Jack Plotnick, who demonstrates the ability to carry a scene from laugh out loud funny to deeply uncomfortable in a matter of seconds. The script is tightly written, and the humour builds on itself in layers, rising from the initial "WTF?" moments of nervous laughter to the farcical crescendo of the closing scenes, where every element of the film collides in a scene that, if nothing else, will mean that I'll never look at tricycles the same way again.

I could continue to pick at Rubber, pulling out detail after detail, examining each one in turn to find new facets, new thoughts and revelations. None of that really matters though; what you need to know is that Rubber is the strangest, funniest, and most dazzlingly original film you will see this year, and considering that Scott Pilgrim vs The World just came out, that's one hell of an achievement.

Originally from http://www.rgbfilter.com/?p=9032

When Robert, a tire, discovers his destructive telepathic powers, he soon sets his sights on a desert town; in particular, a mysterious woman becomes his obsession.

The film opens with some surreal imagery, some utter nonsense, and then the lines that explain everything you will see for the next hour: the "no reason" speech. Why do things happen in movies? As they say, sometimes for no reason (Why is ET brown?) This film takes that principle to the next level.

With a tire being the main character, not many actors get enough screen time to really develop their roles. I would have liked to see more of Haley Ramm. I did not know her, despite her lengthy resume (she was young Jean Grey, for example)... I would like to see her in more things, get more starring roles. Perhaps in "Red State"?

How does one succinctly describe Rubber to another person, without sounding like a lunatic? Is it even possible to try and theorize, or try and explain the story of an inanimate tire named Robert, who has the simultaneous abilities of being able to move on its own and use telekinetic powers to destroy anything and anyone that comes in its way? I am beginning to think I sound a little off just as I write this, but baffled expressions and thoughts aside, Rubber is one of the most original and unique films anyone is bound to see. But there is a price for being so exceptionally different than other films.

For one, Rubber is more of an experiment than it is a film. Yes, the idea of the tire rolling around and killing people (mostly by making their heads explode in violent messes) is joyfully and bewilderingly hilarious at first. But once you get past the initial shock value of something so simple yet so ridiculous, you need to begin to wonder what writer/director Quentin Dupieux's intentions were with making this film. Did he want to create something so out of this world crazy, that the sheer idea of a killer tire becomes the film's main selling point? I was immediately intrigued when I first heard the idea, but as the film moved along, I found myself more dumbfounded than anything into thinking it was a good idea to make a whole movie revolving around a melancholic tire.

Dupieux adds in a bit of self-awareness, by adding an audience into the picture, who watch Robert's actions from a far via binoculars. Their addition to the film is never explained, nor are their actions or what happens to them as the film goes on. They simply exist to watch what Robert does (his actions acting almost as a film within a film), offer their opinions (which are oddly similar to that of the real audience) and help Dupieux break the fourth wall. The opening of the film has Stephen Spinella's Lieutenant Chad rhyme off to the audience (both within the film, and watching the actual film) how a good chunk of Hollywood films have elements within them that exist for no reason. And the audience within the film seems to have only been added to help move along this theory and agenda. It is a baffling and odd choice, one that left me confused after I first became aware of what was going on. It offers a few laughs here and there, but much like the idea that drives the film, it is just weird and absurd.

Except that seems to be the point of the whole project behind Rubber: to create a silly film, based on a silly idea, and try to alienate the audience watching it. It takes itself deadly serious, but deep down, it does know it is silly. But it also knows it is otherworldly too. It does what few films do, and engages the audience's thinking and relative scope of reality. It bends the schematics of the filmmaking medium, and what we do and do not know about it, and alters and modifies it to its own liking. Of course, since the film was made in France, it could be deemed an offshoot or a film made in the image of its brethren of the French New Wave. But at the same time, it may just simply exist to play with what we know, and give us something wild and unlike anything we have ever really seen before.

But being unique is a bit of a double edged sword in the case of Rubber. For all the wacky and odd choices it makes in its attempt to be unique, it also ends up being incredibly boring and inane. As hinted at before, after you get past the idea of what Robert can do, there really is nowhere else for the film to go. A synopsis suggests he is obsessed and fascinated by a mysterious woman named Sheila (Roxane Mesquida). But she only appears sparingly in the 80-minute film, and she never really has a chance to make an impact at all. Perhaps Robert is seeing something we as an audience have missed? For such a short running time, Rubber runs out of a lot of ideas a bit too fast, and by the time the deranged ending takes place, it stops making any sense at all, either in our reality or the reality the film sets up for itself.

While I cannot say that I was anything but disappointed in the film, I also have to contend that its power lies in the unexpected. There is no proper way to prepare yourself for what you will see, and watching the trailers will only confuse you further. There really could have been any number of extensive things Dupieux could have added to the film to make it better, but listing them off would be just as silly as attempting to fully explain what he was trying to say.

There will be some people who will say I just did not understand Rubber, but after carefully considering the elements that make up the film, there really is no way to explain or even attempt to decipher what it all means. Dupieux put this enigmatic movie together for fun, to toy with the audience and with film conventions. It is an experiment first, and a film second. Some may find it brilliant, some just baffling. I will stick with being confused and disappointed. But at least the film managed to maintain being entertaining, even if its inanity and silliness became a bit much.

6/10.

(This review also appeared on http://www.geekspeakmagazine.com).

Which two words would you, and hopefully any other reasonable human being, use to describe a movie with a plot synopsis like this: an ordinary rubber tire comes to life in the middle of the Californian desert, quickly discovers that he disposes of dangerous telepathic powers and goes on a murderous stroll. The tire violently blows up people's heads left, right and center while a cinematic audience follows his joyful escapades from a safe distance through binoculars. Well, most likely but completely justified you will use the words "absurd" and "random". The most clever gimmick about this film, however, is that it actually points out the randomness before you even have the opportunity to ponder about it. "Rubber" opens with an extended spoken monologue by one of the characters and he repeatedly emphasizes the fact that everything in this film happens for absolutely no reason at all. Even more so, "Rubber" is an hour and a half long homage to randomness. Robert the tire comes to life for no reason. He can make small animals and human heads explode for no reason. He chases a cute brunette girl around for no reason. A group of bizarre people observe him like it's a real life movie for no reason. You get the picture.

One could claim, of course, that writer/director Quintin Dupieux' approach is innovative, courageous and humorous. This is true, in fact, but sadly just for a very brief period. The first few images of a seemingly half-drunken tire rolling through the sand and causing cute little bunny rabbits to explode are undeniably hilarious (if you share the same twisted sense of humor, that is) but it becomes dull and derivative enormously fast. The "no reason" gimmick quickly loses its panache and general fun-factor. Okay, so there's a psychopathic tire on a rampage and it doesn't make any sense. We would have understand that after five exploding heads instead of fifty as well. If "Rubber" had been a short feature, it would have been equally effective. Perhaps even more. Also, and this might be a purely personal opinion, I don't really like it when director hide themselves behind the randomness excuse. Everyone can think up a story that makes absolutely no sense. It's too easy like that. Obviously I think there are several good things to enjoy about "Rubber" as well, otherwise I wouldn't have given the average rating. The desolate filming locations and complementary references towards older movies are fun to spot. It was also tremendously cool to see former B-movie star Wings Hauser ("Night Shadows", "Vice Squad") in a prominent role again after so long. The special effects and make-up art look adorably cheesy and the electro/experimental soundtrack is quite awesome. The latter quality shouldn't come too much as a surprise, since writer/director Quintin Dupieux is primarily known as a musician and scored a humongous hit in the late 1990's as Mr. Oizo with "Flat Beat".

Just because a movie has a low budget and is unique doesn't make it a good movie. My favorite part about this movie is basically the intro since it sort of pumps you up, it seemed like a excuse later on for the movie for not making any sense. Not only does the movie not make any sense the characters are very awkward, but that is what somewhat makes this movie interesting since the characters aren't super serious. The plot is basically about a serial killer tire that goes around blowing stuff and people up using psychokinetic powers. the awkwardness of the situations is what make this movie remotely intriguing. Also trying to figure out exactly what is going on is what drives this movie as well. I don't know if some scenes were intended to be funny, but it was sort of humorous at times which is a plus. The flaw is that the movie just wasn't all that fun to watch and was repetitive with lot of the time taking up with a tire rolling around. Just because it has a unique idea that hasn't really been done before just doesn't make a movie good sometimes and that applies to this movie. I was expecting at least a crazy final scene but that didn't really happen either.

4.5/10