[HORS SATAN screens Friday June 14th at 5:00 pm and Satuday June 15th at 7:15 pm at the Cleveland Cinematheque.]
Review by Charles Cassady, Jr.
If
Bruno Dumont's 2011 French film HORS SATAN had a perceptible sense of
humor (it doesn't), mood music (it doesn't) or John Nance or Laura Dern
(no, sorry), it could have been called `Lynchean.' Put another way, if
the macabre movies of David Lynch were even slower and not half so
diabolically entertaining, they'd resemble HORS SATAN.
That's
not to say HORS SATAN isn't worthwhile, just that it does seem to take
a...well...ungodly amount of time to get under one's skin.
Setting
is a sleepy provincial village near Bolougne. Details are sketchy (not
helped by the fact that all characters are nameless and seldom speak),
but a gaunt vagabond appears on the scene and promptly uses a rifle to
sniper-shoot down a farmer. The victim was, so we eventually, hopefully,
comprehend, the abusive stepfather of a sullen, Goth-looking local
girl.
She winds up falling in love with the killer, although he
seems peculiarly hot and cold about the relationship, especially at the
idea of things turning physical. Later on, we behold that the guy's
lovemaking can have extreme effects on women, either curative
or...something else.
The gaunt stranger (more than a few
characters here look like the French branch of the Carradine family)
commits more acts of homicide and mayhem, and while police are present
to investigate, he winds up walking free time and again, almost as if he
has some supernatural ability over human perception, as well as life
and death. The title, translated as "Outside Satan," is something of
tipoff, or at least as much of a Spoiler Alert as any viewer can hope to
get, about who the sinister protagonist is and why he's putting on
this wildly bipolar display of good/evil.
The narrative unfolds,
for the most part, in loooong, pastoral and beautifully composed
widescreen takes. As with many a minimalist plotline, it does take time
to get going. For the first half, in fact, hardly anything seems to be
happening that adds up meaningfully, and every time the image fades to
black, one fully expects un film de Bruno Dumont to end altogether. So
it is a feat when something of a tale does coalesce, albeit of an
upscale art-house horror movie. One that is, even I had to admit, a
creepier viewing option than Hollywood's standard-issue
based-on-true-events-with-CGI PG-13 ghost drama at the multiplex.
Still,
Lynch taking a crack at this material (with Angelo Badalamenti music)
would have been something to see, if a little LOST HIGHWAY-ish. Maybe
LOST PASTURELAND. (2 1/2 out of 4 stars)
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