One of the oldest and most sacred rituals of my existence is watching movies on a dare. Somewhere deep down, I am terrified of losing that fascinating for witnessing every possible extreme the human mind can come up with and become an incredibly boring person, which I already am by short stretches. If I had known HOLY MOTORS was a Leos Carax movie before pressing play, self-preservation instinct would've probably taken over and I would've balked on this movie like a 100 meters dash champion. Maturity also is about sparing yourself from a needless ordeal. But since it was deemed one of the most daring surrealist movies of this century, I've put blinders on and once again into a life-or-death intellectual battle.
Somewhere, I must love doing this.
HOLY MOTORS is a kind of self-aware movie about making movies. Don't try to understand the appeal of this idea, it's a Euro thing. It's the story of Monsieur Oscar (Denis Lavant) who rides a limousine around Paris, driven by his assistant Céline (Édith Scob, of the terrifying EYES WITHOUT A FACE legacy). He interprets different roles ranging from a homeless woman to a hired killer and experiences a certain transformation during his day. Now, the entire thing is, I believe, a metaphor for Leos Carax' directing career (he even references one of his own movies) and I suppose every of the nine segments is supposed to be an allegory of something in particular. This is where it gets complicated.
I actively try to avoid the ''p'' word when reviewing novels and movies because it's a term lazy critics use to define art they didn't bother to understand, but I have called Leos Carax pretentious before. HOLY MOTORS is immensely more watchable than POLA X *, but it doesn't have this playful relationship to its audience than Carax's fellow surrealists David Lynch and Alejandro Jodorowsky have. Aside from the overarching cinema metaphor, it often feels like you're watching Leos Carax talking to himself.
I had no idea how I was supposed to act or how I was supposed to feel while watching HOLY MOTORS and it was frustrating. I mean, what am I supposed to think after witnessing Denis Lavant lick Eva Mendes' armpit with mouthful of blood? Is that a symbol of some sort or just a convoluted fuck you to whoever he's targeting with that image? How the fuck am I supposed to know which is which? In Leos Carax's cinema it can mean images don't have a meaning outside of the one they portray or that the answer lies far beyond your reach, because you're not educated enough to ''get it''.
I had no idea how I was supposed to act or how I was supposed to feel while watching HOLY MOTORS and it was frustrating. I mean, what am I supposed to think after witnessing Denis Lavant lick Eva Mendes' armpit with mouthful of blood? Is that a symbol of some sort or just a convoluted fuck you to whoever he's targeting with that image? How the fuck am I supposed to know which is which? In Leos Carax's cinema it can mean images don't have a meaning outside of the one they portray or that the answer lies far beyond your reach, because you're not educated enough to ''get it''.
This image made me want to watch HOLY MOTORS, but it's about 30 seconds from the end of the movie.
Enough with the existential despair, though, Not everything about HOLY MOTORS is a cryptic existential quandary. It has a fun and compelling self-awareness and I've enjoyed the references I've actually understood. Those made to the cinema of French slapstick comedian Jacques Tati, for example. I've also enjoyed the strange, self-aware relationship the movie had to its audience. HOLY MOTORS is a lot about Denis Lavant's immense capacity for transformation. Sometimes, Carax straight out just offers him to us, like in that bizarre interlude where he leads an accordion band. HOLY MOTORS likes to break the fourth wall without directly talking to the audience, remind us that it is deliberate, a spectacle. That kept me on my toes.
I thought HOLY MOTORS was interesting and visually unbridled, but I wouldn't call it a masterpiece like other critics and I am aware that this statement speaks as much about my limitations as a movie audience than it does about Leos Carax's talent. If you're not going to give me a story to follow viscerally or a puzzle to solve with my head, go fuck yourself. HOLY MOTORS gave me part of the latter like a begrudging ex trying to make nice. The difference between Carax and other directors like Lynch or Jodorowsky is that their cinema has clear boundaries. There are no rules to their fiction, but they are clearly fictions and it's not the case in HOLY MOTORS. I wish I had more insightful things to say about what it does well, but I don't and it's both Leos Carax's fault and mine.
I often jokingly tell people that I'm an asshole, but movies like HOLY MOTORS make me feel like one.
* Here'a a banal example of Leos Carax's deliberate unreachability. POLA X is inspired by Herman Melville's novel Pierre ou les Ambiguïés (Pierre: or, The Ambiguities). Why the fuck did he call it POLA X then? Pierre Ou Les Ambiguïtés Screenplay Draft No. 10. P-O-L-A X. I'll tell you when to stop banging your head against the wall.
I thought HOLY MOTORS was interesting and visually unbridled, but I wouldn't call it a masterpiece like other critics and I am aware that this statement speaks as much about my limitations as a movie audience than it does about Leos Carax's talent. If you're not going to give me a story to follow viscerally or a puzzle to solve with my head, go fuck yourself. HOLY MOTORS gave me part of the latter like a begrudging ex trying to make nice. The difference between Carax and other directors like Lynch or Jodorowsky is that their cinema has clear boundaries. There are no rules to their fiction, but they are clearly fictions and it's not the case in HOLY MOTORS. I wish I had more insightful things to say about what it does well, but I don't and it's both Leos Carax's fault and mine.
I often jokingly tell people that I'm an asshole, but movies like HOLY MOTORS make me feel like one.
* Here'a a banal example of Leos Carax's deliberate unreachability. POLA X is inspired by Herman Melville's novel Pierre ou les Ambiguïés (Pierre: or, The Ambiguities). Why the fuck did he call it POLA X then? Pierre Ou Les Ambiguïtés Screenplay Draft No. 10. P-O-L-A X. I'll tell you when to stop banging your head against the wall.
