01/08/2023 - Quentin Dupieux delivers a formidably effective, simple yet surprising and incisive dark comedy about an absence of love and its potentially tragic consequences

"This show isn’t entertaining in the slightest! I’ve paid for a seat to cheer myself up but all it’s doing is adding to my problems." Life is often a mini theatre, of sorts, and art (for better or for worse) a more or less distorted mirror of human moods and societal undercurrents. Quentin Dupieux has made it his speciality to hijack, subvert and push these representations to absurd extremes in an ever-playful though occasionally acidic and sombre spirit. In fact, it’s within this corrosive vein, previously explored in Deerskin [+see also:
film review
trailer
interview: Quentin Dupieux
film profile], for example, that the filmmaker has decided to set his brilliant and scathing movie Yannick [+see also:
trailer
film profile], which is due for release in French cinemas on 2 August, courtesy of Diaphana, before it enjoys its international premiere in competition at the 76th Locarno Film Festival. It’s a film based upon a very simple set-up and idea which takes a modest movie theatre and a “banal” show about morals (the story of a deceived husband in the face of his wife and his "replacement) and turns it into an especially pertinent echo chamber of the serious issues plaguing western societies today: loneliness, a feeling of not being listened to or heard, "lovesickness", cultural and societal divides, and the propensities for violence, transgression and taking control which likely result from these.

"I haven’t paid money to see art, I’m not a minister". Three actors (Pio Marmaï, Blanche Gardin and Sébastien Chassagne) are performing on stage in front of a somewhat sparse crowd when a man suddenly stands up and interrupts the play. It’s Yannick (rising star Raphaël Quenard), a car park attendant who, as he explains, has taken the day off and spent 45 minutes travelling here and 15 minutes walking to come and see this show which he doesn’t like in the slightest. "I’m trying to convey my frustration; I feel worse than I did before. And I’ve already got a shitty life". A discussion with the actors ensues, the latter at pains to explain to the troublemaker that the author of the play isn’t there, that Yannick’s judgement is subjective ("such big words!" he retorts) and that they’d be happy to reimburse him, if only he’d let them carry on with the play. They subsequently direct him towards the exit. But, feeling mocked, their heckler comes back with a gun in his hand and holds the entire room hostage ("it takes a gun to get respect. What kind of a world are we living in!"), with very specific ideas on how the rest of the evening will play out: "I’m going to write a new show which will prove to everyone that car park attendants can write good entertainment, and they’re going to act it out in order to soothe your spirits." 

Quentin Dupieux weaves a very subtle web around this lead character who redefines the rules of the game and talks loudly, exploring the poignant reality of a moment of madness and an incredibly rational expression of acute, long-contained feelings; a web at once cerebral, ambiguous and direct, ensuring actors and spectators interact with the help of minimalist accessories (a weapon, a computer, a printer). By taking control of the stage, Yannick lifts the veil on the dark side of a society which is profoundly lacking in dialogue. Quentin Dupieux, meanwhile, strikes the perfect balance between caustic, incredibly funny but nonetheless uncomfortable humour and a form of affection which endears his protagonist to the audience in spite of the character’s unfiltered aggressiveness. It’s all squeezed into a pared-back story (the film lasts an hour and seven minutes) which is buoyed by a few symbolically edifying twists and turns, turning this new movie by Dupieux (who’s clearly Luis Buñuel’s post-modern heir) into an oddity bursting with normality and a first-class work of concision.

Yannick is produced by Atelier de Production and Chi-Fou-Mi Productions, with world sales entrusted to Kinology.

(Translated from French)