Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Peter Strickland
Starring: Fatma Mohamed, Asa Butterfield, Makis Papadimitrou,
Gwendoline Christie, Ariane Labed, Richard Bremmer
Romanian actress Fatma Mohamed has long been director
Peter Strickland's secret weapon, stealing the show in small
supporting roles in his previous films with her unique presence, a
curious mix of Prunella Scales and Delphine Seyrig. In his latest work,
Flux Gourmet, Strickland deploys Mohamed like napalm, putting her front and centre
in his most absurdist film to date.
Mohamed plays Elle, the pretentious frontwoman for an art collective
she has temporarily dubbed "Elle and the Gastric Ulcers." Along with
fellow members Billy (Asa Butterfield) and Lamina (Ariane Labed), Elle specialises in a decidedly niche form of performance art known
as sonic catering, which involves creating noise through the use of food
(a callback to fruit and veg standing in for violated body parts in
Strickland's Berberian Sound Studio). Of course, like his previous movies,
Flux Gourmet plays out in "Strickland" rather than the
real world, and so here it's not a niche practice at all. In fact, so
popular is sonic catering that there's a prestigious institute that
awards collectives with month long residencies.
Elle and co. find themselves gifted one such residency, but Elle
immediately makes an enemy of the institute's director Jan Stevens (Gwendoline Christie). The two bicker constantly over the use of a flanger in Elle's work,
with Elle digging her heels in while Jan seduces Billy in the hopes he
might twist her arm. Meanwhile the antics are being documented by Stones
(Makis Papadimitriou), a self professed hack writer from Greece.
Stones suffers from chronic flatulence, and the institute's resident
quack doctor Glock (Richard Bremmer) delights in taunting the
writer as to the ambiguous nature of his condition.
In his early films, Strickland displayed an obsession with the
aesthetics of 1970s European arthouse and grindhouse cinema, but his
more recent work has seen him inject a very British sense of humour into
the mix. Like
In Fabric, Flux Gourmet delves into that very British neurosis
regarding comforming to social norms, as represented by Stones' attempts
to conceal his embarrassing condition and Jan's Basil Fawlty-esque
desire to maintain her institute's reputation. The clash between
European and British sensibilities is made literal here with Elle
representing the former and Jan the latter. Perhaps the most British
character is Billy, who just wants to keep his head down and avoid
confrontation, happiest when buried in an audio equipment catalogue. If
In Fabric was Argento's Are You Being Served?,
Flux Gourmet is Bunuel's Fawlty Towers.
The absurdism is dialed up to 11, and I use that particular reference
because Flux Gourmet often resembles a European cousin of
Spinal Tap, its art collective every bit as laughably pretentious as the British
rockers of Rob Reiner's seminal comedy. The terrorist attacks played out
by a rival collective shunned by the institute are a direct nod to
Bunuel, as are the dinner table conversations where hot button issues
are discussed in the most risible manner. As is often suspected of the
world of impenetrable art, it all ultimately seems to be an excuse to
get laid, with the collective awarded with nightly orgies courtesy of
adoring audiences. Strickland is a master of stretching out a gag to the
point where it becomes so absurd that the absurdism fuels the comedy.
The battle over the flanger and Glock's refusal to give Stones a
straight answer regarding his windy woes are both masterclasses in this
brand of comedy.
Acknowledging the influence of the Greek Weird Wave movement through
the casting of
Suntan's Papadimitriou and Attenberg's Labed, Strickland has assembled a knockout cast of current European
cult faves, all of whom are fully in sync with his unique brand of
filmmaking. It's Mohamed however who stands out as always. Is there a
more entertaining comic performer working today? She simply has to
appear on screen to make you start giggling, and her delivery of
Strickland's dialogue is like nothing else in modern cinema. As a very
pretentious woman who has no idea how pretentious she really is, Mohamed
sends up this archetype in riotous fashion. I'm baffled as to how she
hasn't gotten more work on the strength of her previous collaborations
with Strickland, but perhaps he's the only filmmaker who understands her
distinctive talents. That said, if she continues to work almost
exclusively with Strickland she'll likely end her career with a more
impressive CV than most performers. I can't wait to see what this pair
brings us next.
