Amor Suspeito

LA MOUSTACHE forces the viewer to grapple with a conundrum; "What is real, and what is not?". Carrere (who wrote the novel and directed the film) is a writer and fan of the late, great science fiction author, Philip K. Dick. In fact, Carrere's, I AM ALIVE AND YOU ARE DEAD:A JOURNEY INTO THE LIFE OF PHILIP K. DICK is an excellent biography of this gifted author. Nearly all of Dick's work concerned the shifting nature of Identity and the ontological basis for Reality. This movie examines the possibility of "Change"-shaving a moustache, and the impact on a life. In a sense, the film is kind of a Black Comedy, in that such a minor adjustment would not seem to lead to such dislocation. But, that is not the case in La Moustache. The movie begs all kinds of bizarre interpretations, so don't expect an easy ride from this French 'Chinese Puzzle' of a film,

This is a strange story of mental illness (at least that's how I chose to interpret it). A man, Marc, gradually loses his grip on reality after shaving his mustache that was always there as part of his look as a man (or at least he thinks it was). The movie is seen through Marc's perspective which makes it difficult to discern reality from his bouts of schizophrenic hallucinations.

At some points the movie reminds me of Lost Highway in the manner with which it represented the split of the protagonist (or rather a metamorphosis) into two different characters. In La Moustache the split happens at the level of the "life" of the protagonist, his world is constantly subjected to transformations, while he more or less stays the same. However in LH we can discern the "true" part of the protagonist from his "imagined" part. That distinction is impossible in La Moustache ; we don't know where his madness starts and where it ends. He is a total mess, and it is upon this ambiguity that everything we see is built.

All in all, this movie was a really nice surprise that I highly enjoyed and that I recommend for fans of Lynch, Cronenberg and psychological thrillers/dramas.

Borrowing a few techniques from the likes of Lynch or Haneke, La Moustache presents an engaging but intentionally confusing story of one man's facial hair and the strange series of events that are set off once that hairy upper lip was removed. Acting as a catalyst in this bizarrely written mystery, The Moustache really plays better as psychological drama then the semi-ludicrous, detail-specific, identity riddle it's seductive direction and powerful performances wooed us into believing. Guided by typical cornerstones of praised European fare, this film, as stubborn or illogical as it may be, is punctuated by the restrained and observant direction of it's original novelist Emmanuel Carrère, and crowned by the masterfully human performance Vincent Lindon imbues this difficult character. When the final credits have rolled, many will be left scratching their heads, already forming diverging conclusions as to what this movie actually had to say. Though there seemed to be too much left to speculation with too many plot holes to justify everything I saw, this was still a compelling mistake at worst and is still worth taking the shave even if the final result feels more pretentiously derivative then compellingly original.

French author Emmanuel Carrère's sole venture into feature filmmaking by far, LA MOUSTACHE is adapted from his own novel published in 1986, a head-scratching story about a middle-aged French man Marc (Lindon), whose life starts to collapse after he shaved his trademark moustache on a whim, and everyone around starts to behave that they have never seen him in moustache, including his wife Agnès (Devos).

So, under this presumption, there could be two possible explanations: either Agnès is right, so Marc must have some serious psychological issues should be treated with kid gloves; or, Agnès is lying, when having dinner at their friends', Agnès is accused as an incorrigible liar by her ex- boyfriend Serge (Amalric), which might insinuate that an underhand conspiracy theory is in the pipeline. Cinematically, it is rather an intriguing premise, however, in hindsight, as the film turns out to be an experiment completely open to each individual's own interpretation, Carrère knowingly oscillates between these two scenarios lest the plot would veer to either direction with no turning back.

Take the example of the photo albums Marc finds, it is a trip to Bali years ago and obviously he is sporting a moustache in every picture, but, instead of pushing forward his proofs to Agnès or his friends, he chooses to withhold it until the album goes missing, if that's a slip of mind, later we clearly see his moustache in both the head-shots in his wallets and his passport, why not show them to contest his belief, or just visit his parents, who should know the truth, but no, because, it would channel the story into a dead-end, either Agnès is right or she is playing a bigger game to dupe him, either way, it would lose the mystical allure.

So, out of wits to keep the suspense rolling, Carrère employs a brisk geographical shift to Hong Kong, where Marc aimlessly and tediously moseys on ferry rides, an economical transportation in a metropolitan city (which might be used to save a fair amount of cost in shooting whilst the crew could enjoy their vacation), so as to buy some time to let his moustache grow back, then, bang! Surreal events materialise again, and viewers have no sooner recovered from the bamboozling revelation than the film reaches its succinct finish line, admittedly, it is an in-your-face anticlimax.

Masked as an existential fable, LA MOUSTACHE intrigues at first, but pretty soon loses its sway and resorts to absurd-ism and metaphysics, which could be an alternative to lift the bar, like Denis Villeneuve did in ENEMY (2013), but in this case, it only betrays the filmmaker's incompetence to concoct up anything could possibly give a plausible justification, a cheap cop-out always tastes bitter and gets under one's skin.

Read the book some time ago and after watching the movie felt much the same sort of existential exhilaration - if there is such a thing. Maybe it was just the cold that I have, though. A little overacted at times, but otherwise like an exotic episode of the Twilight Zone, shot in glorious colour. The film reminded me another French film I saw in the theatre recently by the name of Cache, which I enjoyed very much. As for it's American counterpart, I suppose that you'd be looking at something like Lost Highway, David Lynch's bizarre account of a modern, urban couple trying to grapple with the unknown. This seems to be something of a genre for the French and they are quite good at pulling it off - as is evidenced with this film - with considerable style and enough depth of plot and character to leave you considering and reconsidering the film for far more than the sadly customary 10 minutes.

I almost shaved my beard off after watching it just to see what would happen. But I haven't yet. Or have I?