Ulysse, souviens-toi!

'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.

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.

Gangster and deadbeat dad, Ulysses Pick (Jason Patric), embarks on an unusual journey through his home, in a noir ghost story that draws on Homer's Odyssey.

Guy Maddin is an unusual man, whose styles are interesting and some would say unique. Keep in mind this is a man who, ten years prior, made "The Heart of the World" (2000) in the style of Russian constructivism. And it worked.

This time around, there is a cheesy, low budget feel with less-than-stellar acting, at least at the beginning. (The low budget look may be because Maddin shot Keyhole digitally rather than his usual method of shooting on 16mm or Super-8mm.) Things get better as they go, especially once the acting chops of Isabella Rossellini and Udo Kier are brought into the picture.

Ebert wrote, "Keyhole plays like a fever dream using the elements of film noir but restlessly rearranging them in an attempt to force sense out of them. You have the elements lined up against the wall, and in some mercurial way, they slip free and attack you from behind." Wow. Those are some words, Roger. Not sure exactly what you mean, but mysteriously such a review fits this film nicely.

Guy Maddin's new feature is pretty typical for the director. If you're a fan, it'll please you. If you're among the uninitiated, it'll drive you nuts. Me, I'm an enormous fan, have seen almost all of his films more than once and own all of his features except for the one that's unavailable on DVD (and this one). Keyhole may even be a bit more esoteric than his other films, but certainly not by much. Jason Patrick (of all people) stars as a probably dead gangster who holes up in his old house along with his gang. He wants to reconnect with his wife (Isabella Rossellini, who has had her wagon hitched to Maddin for about a decade now), who is locked upstairs and unwilling to come out (Patrick talks to her through the titular hole). The house is haunted by various ghosts from the past, including frequent Maddin collaborator Louis Negin, playing Rossellini's father, who is chained naked to her bed and often wanders about the house whipping the other ghosts. Patrick explores the house, trying to find a way to get to his wife, alongside a pretty, young blind girl (Brooke Palsson) who always feels as if she is drowning, and a gagged hostage that the gang has taken (David Wontner). As Patrick explores, the rest of his gang plans to betray him. Other recognizable members of the cast include Udo Kier, who plays a doctor, and Kevin McDonald of The Kids in the Hall (Maddin formerly worked with Kid in the Hall Mike McKinney in The Saddest Music in the World, and was honestly a much better fit for the director than McDonald is). As you might have figured out by now, this is pretty weird. As is common with Maddin's films, he had about fifty weird ideas and combined them into a feature. That might sound like it could be a mess, but if anyone can handle something like this, it's Maddin. And I loved it. His aesthetic hasn't changed much in the past decade or so, but he's a master of imagery. I also love his dreamy dialogue and sound design. I certainly wouldn't recommend an uninitiated viewer to start with this one, but, again, if you're a fan, don't hesitate.

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".