As far as contemporary filmmakers go, French writer/director Quentin Dupieux is quite a unique breed. Over the course of his 20+ year career, he’s found a highly specific niche in mid-length, low budget, absurdist/Dadaist idea-driven comedies. From his break-out hit Rubber about a homicidal tire, the superhero parody Smoking Causes Coughing, the time-traveling cautionary tale Incredible But True, the stoner road movie featuring a giant fly Mandibules (a personal favorite), his movies are often based on high concepts and executed with charmingly low-brow simplicity. One may have to be in a certain mood to appreciate his brand of humor, but when it clicks, you feel like you’re watching the funniest thing ever.
Five years after opening the Director’s Fortnight sidebar with Deerskin, Dupieux’s latest offbeat offering The Second Act was chosen as the opener of the 77th Cannes Film Festival. While the prestige of that designation might weigh a little heavily on the typically modest frame of a Dupieux joint, the zany 80-min affair is a breezy ride thanks in no small part to the performances of its starry ensemble cast. The fact that the film is a contemplation on the essence of acting and filmmaking also reminds you rather fittingly why so many of us bother to tune in to what happens in the south of France this time each year.
In the first act of The Second Act, we meet three sets of characters. Jittery barman Stephane (Manuel Guillot) gets a countryside restaurant called The Second Act ready for business in thoughtful silence, seemingly expecting something momentous to happen at this unspectacular-looking place. Meanwhile, two friends David (Louis Garrel) and Willy (Raphaël Quenard) have a lengthy discussion as they make their way to the restaurant, where the former tries to convince the latter to step in and divert the unwanted romantic attention from an obsessive girlfriend. Finally we see the girl in question, Florence (Léa Seydoux), and her father Guillaume (Vincent Lindon) in an equally long conversation as they head out to meet the boy of her dreams.
Already in these first exchanges between the characters, you notice that all is not as it seems. When the goofy simpleton Willy makes homo- or transphobic remarks in his interrogation of his friend’s unusual request, David would look into the camera, reminds Willy that they’re being filmed and that politically incorrect improvisations should be avoided. When Guillaume storms out of the car, he’s not breaking up the conversation with his daughter but the scene shared with a co-star. This meta element persists in the titular Act II, when all four characters gather at the titular restaurant and more actorly ego explodes through the fourth wall. And while they (the actors) try to reconcile and finish the scene, the exceedingly nervous, wine-spilling barman serving them (the characters) proceeds to reveal himself as a first-time extra too excited to complete one simple task. Things get trippier still when a shocking event happens and it turns out all the meta-ness so far has been scripted from the start.
As in his last feature Daaaaaalí !, Dupieux plays with the Russian doll-like narrative structure to heady effect. One often has to pause and check who is saying what on which level. And like his film before that, Yannick, The Second Act deals with the theme of reality versus storytelling. Do we perceive reality at face value simply because we have been taught to do so? Is a scripted turn of events any less “real”? To whom? Although I don’t think the film found the best, most eloquent angle to approach these themes, I do appreciate the tickle it provides every time a newer, weirder layer is presented. When David, or the actor playing David, or the actor playing the actor playing David, takes a break to chat with the extras playing the other guests at the restaurant and gossip about his co-stars in the middle of an argument or a scene of an argument, the line between truth and fiction becomes deliciously blurred. Kudos also to Dupieux for the last shot of the film, which doesn’t involve any actors or dialogue, but simply traces the tracks on the ground presumably used for the camera that follows the characters as they head to The Second Act. Solid and tangible yet strikingly spare, they serve as a potent contrast to the vividness and lingering memory of the stories captured right in front of them.
Each of the five principal actors basically needs to play three different parts, one on top of the other. They are all pretty great but I find Lindon’s jumps between loving father, jaded macho actor and the older half of a sweet gay couple particularly delightful. He’s such a compelling presence that you buy him in each of these roles, which makes the transitions that much more unexpected and hilarious.
With an official selection that features such heavyweights as Francis ford Coppola, George Miller, Yorgos Lanthimos, David Cronenberg and Sean Baker, something as light as The Second Act likely won’t stay in the festival conversation for long, but as an appetizer and party-starter, it gets the job done. Now let the Cannes-Cannes begin.
