It’s been five long years since Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s last movie A Very Long Engagement, two of which were spent prepping an adaptation of Booker Prize-winning Life of Pi, only to see it nixed because of a proposed £85m budget. (The price of placing a boy alone onboard with some carnivorous creatures for a few months, it seems. If only he’d asked me, I’d have done it for a mere tenth of the cost...)
Jeunet then explained to the attendees of last night’s Glasgow Film Festival Opening Gala how the script for Micmacs subsequently came together very quickly. Watching the movie is almost like bearing witness to the wild explosion of ideas that inevitably occurred after what must have been a frustrating experience for the enormously imaginative director.
Indeed, the main criticism that could be levelled at Micmacs is that there’s often so much taking place that even a minute’s inattention will leave you feeling lost for a moment, until you pick up the strands of the story again. Those moments aren’t necessarily of too much concern, though, given that the movie is just as fantastic a visual feast as you might expect from Amelie, Delicatessen and The City of Lost Children director Jeunet.
At the Q&A that followed, it was telling that Jeunet explained how he tries to follow the example of Pixar and Disney, who attempt to have an “idea in every frame”. However, it was perhaps of more importance that he stressed starting with the story is key, and that only when that is right will he work furiously on the style of the piece so it doesn’t come at the expense of the substance.
Previously described by the director as a “revenge comedy”, there’s certainly something of a screwball caper element to the plot of Micmacs, though those expecting nothing but throwaway humour and light whimsy will undoubtedly be disarmed by the beginning of the movie, which sees the central character Bazil’s father killed by a landmine, before he himself is shot in the head with a stray bullet some 30 years later.
It stays lodged in his brain. Bazil, affected by it and aware that he could die at any moment, recovers only to find his job taken and himself homeless. While in the hands of someone else this could make for the beginning of a relentlessly grim descent into depression and despondency, instead Micmacs is already drawing out laughs by the time Bazil has been wheeled into the operating theatre. For this much of the credit must go to French comedian Dany Boon, who despite being a last-minute replacement in the role lends the character a bear-like charm that seems custom-made to bring a smile to your face. (Though some of the goofing around may be an acquired taste.)
However, the real comedy begins once he’s introduced to the gang of misfits who adopt him as a family and take him into their spectacularly outfitted hovel, each one with their own particular skill. Included in the group are a contortionist, a human calculator and, most welcomely, a human cannonball performed by Jeunet mainstay Dominique Pinon, whose inimitable gurning facial expressions are probably worth the price of admission alone.
When helping them out, Bazil finds - on opposite sides of the same road - two of Paris’s most powerful armaments companies. One made the landmine that killed his father, the other was responsible for the bullet that may still at any second end his existence. (A bit of a coincidence, yes, but as said before Jeunet’s not exactly aiming for gritty realism with Micmacs.) It’s at that point he decides to come up with a plan to exact his revenge, by... well, it’d be mean-spirited to give it away, and that’s certainly not in the spirit of the movie. Plus, with the story sometimes hard to follow, the real joy comes in relishing the fiendish intricacy of the numerous plots hatched by the gang, and the ingenuity with which they’re executed - both by the characters and the film-makers themselves.
I didn’t quite click with the movie’s heroic ensemble while they were first introduced, and probably for that reason didn’t find the plot device initially compelling. That changed, however, with the attachment to the set of stylised oddballs becoming markedly stronger as the movie picked up pace. With a strong ending and the previously noted almost-overpowering abundance of carefully crafted details planted throughout, it’s the sort of movie that demands another viewing and will likely reward repeated screenings. (In fact, if they’d just put it on loop in the Glasgow Film Theatre's main screen I think I’d have stayed there all night long.)
Given that Micmacs is more of a caper than anything else, it might not have the lasting resonance of Amelie, or the emotional tug of The City of Lost Children, but it’s another fine addition to the remarkable body of work that Jeunet’s built up. Also, despite his proclamation that he didn’t set out with a political dimension in mind, through the means of comedy he makes some pretty salient points about the 'defence' industry. It’s great to have Jeunet back, just as it’s great to have the Glasgow Film Festival back with us until February 28. The festivities have commenced with a smile.
- For more on the Glasgow Film Festival, visit stv.tv/gff
