Mandibules, Quentin Dupieux’s newest one-man show (Deerskin, Rubber, Reality), revolves around the “getting rich” fantasy which fits perfectly the universe populated by executioner rubber tires, narcissistic jackets and other absurd manias. Two simple-minded good-for-nothings, Jean Gab (David Marsais) and Manu (Gregoire Ludig), who seem to have some kind of buddy bond for life (which in the 2000s was the recurring subject of the average Hollywood comedies), are given the task of placing a suitcase in the car trunk and transport it from one place to another, on a short distance of just a couple of kilometers. The inevitable obstacles, which might have brought the film into a rut if it weren’t for Dupieux, could have been something like misplacing the suitcase or stalling, or maybe even the appearance of some gangsters who were after the suitcase. But here instead, the narrative is dynamited by the sudden appearance of an oversized, ultra snoring fly, which the protagonists first think is a hair dryer. And this is where the initial mission comes to an end – with the suitcase completely out of their minds, the two spend their time and the last of their money trying to train the trophy fly – which looks like some being made out of fabrics, just like in Bertrand Mandico’s Our Lady of The Hormones, in the hope that they could send it on bank jobs or to steal food.

The creature, which goes by its nickname Dominique (in Mandico’s film it was called Zhivago), wants to pass as a giant fly, whose synthetic entrails do not make it more real than a cassette player buzzing under a pile of some old clothes. In order to avoid it flying or running away, they stick some Band-Aids over its plastic wings in a sloppy way, which only makes it look more made-up. Dominique is kidnapped, but it strongly sympathizes with its aggressors, at least with Jean Gab, who pampers it with cat food and gives it pecks on the muzzle from time to time; this Stockholm syndrome doesn’t seem to get more ridiculous than the moment Jean Gab, at the height of the training process, sends Dominique to bring him some bananas.

As for the atypical road movie part of the film, Mandibules follows Jean Gab and Manu looking all over for a training place, as well as a shelter. In complete asymmetry with the Cote d’Azur, here seen as a provincial area forgotten by the world, Jean Gab rides his fluffy unicorn behind the Trabant driven by Manu; they’re just two happy people who have neither past nor future, but live in a made-up reality that runs on their own linguistic codes (like some kind of boy handshake, totally absurd, in which the two feel the need to call “Toro!” on any important moment during their travels). In this logic that doesn’t fit the political correctness at all, humor sometimes springs from the hysteria of a character with an unusual disability, played by Adèle Exarchopoulos, obsessed with food, high-pitched sounds and conspiracy theories.

Dupieux’s tricks are never predictable – they just make sense if taken as a whole. For example, any moviegoer familiar with his previous films would have expected a narrative where the evil insect would have ended up killing for pleasure. But Dupieux abandons this story line, as does any other attempt by the viewer to make out the story along the way. Mandibules is neither about a business model involving flies, nor about a world populated by twins, but, strangely enough, is about friendship. The title, intentionally set for the viewers keen on finding a meaning to everything that comes in their way, is the ultimate allusion to Jaws. Regarded with such candor, the two dumbos resemble Bruno Dumont’s obsolete characters in P’tit Quinquin. Mandibules is full of patterns and traits, and the small bursts of magical realism (whether we are talking about the disappearance of cows in Dumont’s film, respectively, giant flies in Dupieux’s), all they do is bring color to a plain universe that otherwise sounds hollow from every direction.

Mandibles is distributed in Romania by Independența Film and will be screening in cinemas next year.

Georgiana Mușat

Journalist and film critic, with a master's degree in film critics. Collaborates with Scena9, Acoperișul de Sticlă, FILM and FILM Menu magazines. For Films in Frame, she brings the monthly top of films and writes the monthly editorial Panorama, published on a Thursday. In her spare time, she retires in the woods where she pictures other possible lives and flying foxes.