Keyhole

The first thing I noticed watching Keyhole was that Maddin's cinematography seemed flatter than usual. I love the grainy, high-contrast black-and-white look of his other films, so it was disappointing to me that he moved to digital. The grain is gone and the shadows aren't nearly as deep--and if there's one thing a Maddin movie needs, it's deep shadows. Then again, I don't remember noticing anything "off" about The Forbidden Room, which according to Wikipedia was also shot digitally, so maybe the technology just needed to improve, or Maddin needed to get better acquainted with it.

Anyhow. The movie itself is decent. I would call it a lesser effort by Maddin. Thematically it shares much in common with Brand Upon the Brain! in terms of returning to an old domicile and being haunted by its memories. Brand is a superior film. Stylistically there's nothing really new here. I would have been interested to see Maddin attempt more action, in keeping with the gangster motif, but apart from a shootout at the beginning there isn't much. There's enough good stuff to make the film worth watching, though. Maddin fans ought to find it satisfying, if not innovative.

'Keyhole' is mostly shot in black-and-white... and there my understanding of it ends. The basic plot seems to be about a gangster (Jason Patric) searching for his wife (Isabella Rossellini, still beautiful) who is hiding behind a locked door in a haunted house. For some reason he's dragging along with him a drowned - but talking - young woman and a bound & gagged young man. Meanwhile various other gangsters and ghosts roam about the place to no great effect. It's hard to judge the actors' performances because they're placed in such an unreal situation and are acting from such a bizarre script. To paraphrase London Mayor Boris Johnson, it goes 'zoink' off the arty-farty register. Fans of fat old man nudity will love it, unfortunately.

While I'm definitely a Maddin fan, make no mistake about that, and I recognize his hat tips to Lynch and Von Trier and Harmony Korine, and I love any movie with Udo Kier in it, clearly this is a take-the-tax-grant and run flick.

Meanwhile, I'm going to strip naked and go to the antique mall and make some foggy black and white videos for YouTube and see which government wants to bankroll me for more! The 3 rating is strictly for how well this stacks up with other Maddin predecessors. The uninitiated, unless chemically altered, would probably strain to give it a zero.

IMDb here is insisting I go on at length in my review. I'm so glad there is governmental support for the arts, but sometimes it's just a siphon into a drain somewhere. For once, I am going to call this out. I will have to do so extensively, or I won't pass muster for my review length.

I did think some of the bric-a-brac props in the movie were cool. I like to shop antique flea markets myself, and some of the stuff was really prize. OK, I think I have filled up the text buffer to this website's satisfaction.

I won't say I "like" Guy Maddin in the sense that I am a fan, but for sure his name makes me consider watching a film because while I normally find them difficult to follow or fully appreciate, they usually offer so much that is of interest that they are worth a look. His style is something quite unique to him and sometimes he is so unique that his target audience can appear to be only himself and if the rest of us like it too then so be it. I say this because this is sort of the case here and I hope he really likes Keyhole but I would struggle to think of too many people who would really understand it or enjoy it as he would.

There are lots of ideas here and lots of style to deliver them. A gangster and his gang hold up in an old house while the police wait outside; the gang want to know the plan but Ulysses Pick is more concerned with working his way through this house full of ghosts one room at a time. As an idea it is a good one – a man on a journey through himself by virtue of literally confronting the ghosts in his house. It appealed to me as an idea because it offered so much of interest in the hands of Maddin (who is known for his surreal imagery and films constructed around real or imagined or perceived pasts). Sadly it doesn't come off and it ends up feeling like an idea that was probably fully fleshed out in Maddin's head but not in a way that he was able to translate to film.

The result is a film that feels clever but all too often does it in a remote "art student" manner where it is happy doing what it wants because it is your fault if you are not smart enough to understand and appreciate all the hidden meaning in the symbolism. It is a shame because there is a good cast here in Patric, Rossellini and Kier but I wonder do even they really understand what it going on – I hope not, because if they did then they didn't do much to share it with the viewer.

A disappointing film then; it offers much in the concept but in the delivery it seems far too closed off and full of randomness with no threads or cues to really help the viewer keep up or go along. Maddin is usually worth a look but here it isn't the case.

Stumbling out of the theater, my friend said in a small voice, "I think that was even stranger than Hourglass Sanatorium".

This one follows a cast of characters comprising a family whose given names are evocative of literary figures, ways of being, and pretty objects. Unsurprisingly, the character Ulysses is on a rambling quest to find something that may not exist at all -- an adumbrate vision of his wife Hyacinth. Oh, and all he has to do is make it from the first floor of his house to the third.

March (crawl, duck, run) behind them while they are sometimes nude, scraping at things, or shaking dice (there's a joke about masturbation in here somewhere), navigating their bilious house that has a ton of locked doors and a mess of floating dust particles, which -- I'm going out on a limb -- are probably metaphor for the thickness of whatever it is that came between them.

My favorite thematic preoccupation lies in Maddin's stirring portrayal of the fuzzy line between life and death, with figures floating in and out of the frame (and existence), incorporating themselves into deadly vanishing-vignettes that keep recurring, and, corporeal, positioning themselves in zones of the house and grounds that Maddin somehow conveys to the audience are "dead space".