Flux Gourmet

The oddity of the pace and concept wares off about an hour in and feels like it marches on forever without much of a progress or change. Too much repetition, gags go on far too long & at six cycles with little new to add it feels like a bad sketch that drug on too long.

This is perhaps the craziest and most incoherent piece of cinema I have ever watched. My first instinct is to recommend watching this movie on some kind or narcotic or psychedelic, but in forethought this movie almost convinced me I was already on one.

At first I thought it was just me, and that as a Canadian I didn't understand the humor. That maybe it was taylored for a British audience or something? But I've watched faulty towers, Mr. Bean, The Office and so forth... and that's not it.

The longer you watch, the less funny it gets. I can endure and even find some toilet humor funny, but this film was obsessed with repeating the same mindless jokes over and over again... and I must confess I couldn't make it to the very end. I had to turn it off before I developed a serious headache.

If you want to go on the wildest confusing and messed up ride of your life, skip the Iowaska and magic mushrooms and watch this.

I'm not sure how I got here, probably it being a Peter Strickland film. Who doesn't love that unnerving grainy tone he delivers. This though might push even me a little too far. It's weird. Obviously. The setting is the Sonic Catering Institute. A artistic workspace where a collective have gathered to work with a crank call receiving, pompously controlling, increasingly bizarrely dressed resident director and a somewhat submissive writer, photographer, documentarian with some gastric issues. It's not easy to nail down quite what everyone's purpose is. There's a lot of pretension. A lot of awkwardness. Nobody seems to like one another all that much as they do workshops, endure nightly dinners and sleep in grotty dorms. The collective in residency, made up of Elle, Billy (Asa Butterfield) and Lamina are an art troupe band. Using food as a device for performance art. It's as much about the sound though, with sound sources wired up through vats, pots and blenders, as Elle in the first performance writhes naked in what looks like blood. This is one of the more palatable expressions. I'd like to say it's interesting, well acted. That the narrative is compelling and the characters engaging. None of that is true. What I can say is I like slightly confounding art house indulgence and this ticks that box. It looks good too. Not every frame by any means, but there are several arresting scenes that grab your senses. A Strickland film is rarely an easy watch. He's a director intent on challenge and you'll have to work to enjoy this. If you like something that makes your brain wonder and whirl at what you're watching and why you're watching it though, then Flux Gourmet is worth a taste.

"Weird" at the service of a higher cause I can roll with. "Weird" as a stand alone aesthetic usually leaves me cold.

"Flux Gourmet" is a gross and -- for me at least -- an even somewhat incomprehensible film about performance artists. I don't even know -- is "food sound art" even a thing, or was it meant to be a joke? Somewhere in this film is a satire about pretentious people, but it's buried under an off-putting preoccupation with the workings of human bowel systems. I've had a colonoscopy. I don't need to relive someone else's.

This is the kind of movie whose advertising features pull quotes from critics using words like "uproarious" and calling it equal parts brilliant horror and scathing comedy. I must have been watching an entirely different movie.

The best I can say about "Flux Gourmet" is that it has a bold and confident vision, and the director is clearly committed to it. But that's really part of the problem.

Grade: C-

Is Flux Gourmet a very dry straight faced joke about pretentious modern art?

Or is it a perfect example of pretentious modern art?

I'm tending towards the latter.

Recommended if you want a movie that takes the idea behind the baked beans scene in Blazing Saddles and stretches it to feature length. Otherwise, if you really must watch a Peter Strickland movie, find The Duke of Burgundy instead.