Twentynine Palms, Bruno Dumont, France, 2003, 119’ OV with Spanish subtitles
Those who have discovered Bruno Dumont’s movies through his last two films, the strange and hilarious comedies P’Tit Quinquin (L’l Quinquin) (2014) and Ma Loute (Slack Bay) (2016) will be surprised to discover a first, quite significant, part of his work in which the French director explores the most hidden corners of the human soul with unmitigated ferocity. Twentynine Palms belongs to that first phase, which earned him a place amongst the most radical contemporary auteur filmmakers. It is his only film shot in the United States and probably one of the least known. Making full use of all the metaphorical language of the great American road movie, without at the same time being in any way afraid to explosively raze the symbolic liberating spirit that informs it, Dumont strips the action to the minimum, building an oppressive atmosphere in the full light of day, leaving his characters - the mysterious couple, a gruff photographer scouting for locations for a movie and the Russian woman who is with him - at the mercy of their own inner demons and the creepy beauty of a desert landscape (interesting to note that The Hitch-Hiker and Twentynine Palms were shot in the same area). That narrative bareness is also transmitted through the striking and complex work with bodies, sexuality and perversion. The latent brutality of the film, which becomes devastatingly palpable towards the end of the movie, makes its viewing a harsh and fascinating experience, one no spectator is likely to forget.
**Warning: Adults only. The film includes extremely violent content.
A harsh and fascinating experience, one no spectator is likely to forget.