Cosmos

Andrzej Zulawski called Cosmos "...one of the strangest films I've ever seen in my life." And then he added, "And incidentally, I made it." Or as David Cairns says in his introductory comments for the included video essay, "What the actual f---, you may be thinking, if this has been your first exposure to a film by Andrzej Zulawski, or even if you are a veteran of his demented, ecstatic cinema."

It's complete and utter madness. Characters seemingly on the brink of insanity, or having already slipped over the edge, engage in dialogue and actions that, as a viewer, we assume means something...to THEM. But are they really communicating with each other and with us? Yes, I think so. A form of systematic expounding one would suppose, at times with raw emotions, yet coming across as disconnected and elusive ideas the meaning of which keeps us searching and in the moment. But it's a form of communication nonetheless. It's what it makes us feel, what insights we gain from the whole. And with Cosmos it's all enhanced by some pretty fine cinematography as well.

The nonsensical dialogue, the frenzied performances. He may have slowed down just a bit by the time he made this film but this is trademark, spot-on Zulawski. What he has always given to me is a unique experience. Cosmos is enjoyable madness, very weird, and a beautiful film. This is a fitting final episode in an amazing career unlike any other.

I didn't realise until long after watching that this was directed by the man behind POSSESSION, one of my all-time favourite horror films. It makes a lot more sense now, especially in terms off the surreal and offbeat atmosphere, but that's not to say I enjoyed the experience this time around. Indeed, I found COSMOS to be completely unwatchable as a film: I felt like the director had erected a huge invisible barrier between myself and the events depicted on screen, so that I was left cut off and inert in the process. It's a family drama writ large, but the decision to have every line of dialogue spoken with unending intensity was, for me, a deal breaker.

Cosmos starts with two friends trying to get away from it all. One is Witold who has flunked his law exam and the other is Fuchs who has just packed in working for a Parisian fashion house. They head off to some seaside resort to a family run guest house. This family run guest house is from the more bizarre end of the market, the sort that gets very mixed reviews on Trip Adviser. For starters things are slightly awry from the start, with dead birds found hanging and staffed by people who are so emotionally unstable that a Ritalin overdose would, possibly, have little effect.

The backgrounds of the two young men are juxtaposed brilliantly to the mayhem that is going on around them. Witold seems to be a frustrated dilettante and writer who is wont to fall in love and Fuchs is a force of nature who sparkles with a misplaced energy – if such a thing really exists. The increasing madness seems to deliberately challenge any form of acceptable narrative whilst telling stories that will, eventually, add up to the whole.

This will not be a film for everyone; it can be seen as 'art house' or even deliberately annoying, but when you peel back the layers there is so much here that it is actually a celluloid feast. The performances are at once over the top and sensational as well as being sensationalist. Jean-François Balmer as Leon the patriarch of the house is just sublime as is his screen wife - Sabine Azéma. But the real star is writer and director Andrzej Zulawski who sadly died in February. As far as a Swan song could go it would be hard to beat such a piece of original work as this – he will be truly missed. If you like cinema that challenges convention and has its heart firmly planted on its, over acting, sleeve then be prepared for a treat.

To my mind, while being quintessential Zulawski, thanks also to the film being in French with mostly native actors there are welcome homages to Jacques Rivette (Céline et Julie vont en bateau) and Éric Rohmer, maybe a dod of Resnais and Cocteau even (after all, Zulawski studied cinema in France). Despite the astonishing allure of the lush greenery (filmed in Portugal, with scant sunshine and plenty of wind off the Atlantic) we are force-fed with the antics and dialogues of a wide range of extreme characters who have nothing and everything in common: food, folly, and literature, perversions and obsessions, madness. I am grateful to the insightful comments of those reviewers who spoke less of themselves and more of the film itself, e.g., "the direction is unrelentingly assured." Indeed, a filmic taxonomy of dementia.

In Andrzej Zulawski's film 'Cosmos', a pair of weird young men, one of them a writer, visit a boarding house full of even weirder characters; and after that, things just get weirder still. Some of the weirdness is apparently the story that the writer is imagining; but the boundary between reality and fantasy is loosely drawn, and the fact that scenes from the filming are shown over the credits but before the final "in movie" scene is at one with the deliberately incoherent feel of the piece as a whole. On one hand, the film is just daft, taking semi-random leaps wherever an opportunity presents itself; yet after a while it becomes oddly watchable, even if it doesn't make sense. I don't think you can call it a good film, or even an interesting one; but there's a beguiling quality to the craziness nonetheless.