“You are full of hate and frustrations. you should take a break," director Quentin Dupieux once tweeted to me, immediately after my review of his 2014 film "Reality." In another world, someone might have advised him not to quarrel with a movie critic. You know, never fight a man who buys ink by the ton and all. But I didn't care. He had said some harsh things about the movie about him. It seems only fair that he could retort.
In Dupieux's latest work, "Yannick", the main character is a critic. Like Dupieux, Yannick does the unthinkable, expressing disgust at him. In some way. That. Is. Not. Done. He opens his mouth during the show. And it's hilarious: By challenging this incredibly specific cultural taboo, Dupieux has invented a mature comedic premise and an opportunity to question what the public expects of art: Fun? Entertainment? Edification? Provocation? "Yannick" makes us ponder these questions, while also fulfilling Dupieux's own idea of what a film should be, all without lengthening his welcome.
Director: Quentin Dupieux
Writer: Quentin Dupieux
Stars: Raphaël Quenard, Pio Marmaï, Blanche Gardin
I would go so far as to say that it is Dupieux's best film, although I have not seen all of them. So let's say the top three, just to be sure. The man is insanely prolific, in any case. A month after the premiere of “Yannick” in Locarno, Salvador Dalí's satire “DAAAAAALI!” will be screened in Venice. Last year, Dupieux premiered two projects in Berlin and Cannes. He's also remarkably consistent, exploring a particular vein of wacky humor sorely lacking in art houses, through shorts. His longest runs 94 minutes.
"Yannick", which lasts exactly one hour plus credits, takes place entirely in a theater in Paris, where a boulevard play called "Le Cocu" is already being performed. It's not a good play, and Dupieux lets his audience taste enough of the three-person show for us to wrap up too, embracing the Brechtian meta-ness of it all as we move from the stage to the faces of a certain audience. members. Some seem mildly amused, others just polite.
There is an unspoken contract between the actors and the audience when people go to the theater. You buy your ticket and sit quietly while the cast does their thing on stage. Laughter is encouraged, applause is appreciated, coughing is allowed. But noisily unwrapping cough drops is not. And talking is strictly prohibited. If you can't handle the play, and we've all been there, please wait until intermission and then say goodbye, rather than spoil the show for everyone else.
Yannick doesn't hesitate to spoil the show. On stage, a husband (Pio Marmaï) has just met the man (Sébastien Chassagne) with whom his wife (Blanche Gardin) is having a “platonic affair”. Yannick is not amused. He stands up in the audience, interrupting the show. “I don't find this entertaining,” he announces. "I feel worse than when I entered."
As a general rule, actors react. But these three actors just blink blankly at Yannick, not knowing how to respond. This rude interloper, a working-class parking attendant with limited patience or limited understanding of "art," explains that he took the whole day off so he could go see this play. It took him an hour to get here, and he wants his money's worth. The actors play along for a bit, drawing on the rapport they've established with the audience to elicit a few laughs at the interloper's expense, and then politely ask him to leave.
Yannick reluctantly leaves the theater, but returns a few moments after picking up his coat from the lobby. Arms in hand, he once again takes control of the situation, treating the actors and the audience as his hostages. Real world audiences can leave whenever they want... but why would they? Dupieux has created a delightfully subversive situation.
It's easy to be intimidated/bewildered by art, especially when critics and curators tell you something is great, but you know deep down it's not for you. Like one of those nervous people who go to the art museum, stand in front of Jackson Pollock's splatters or Cy Twombly's scribbles, and declare "my son could paint that," Yannick orders a laptop and printer and proceeds to write what he considers to be a superior move than the one he just suffered. The result is not better, but it seems to amuse the audience, and perhaps that is enough.
You're better off finding out for yourself what happens after Yannick introduces a gun into the equation, a development that gives Dupieux's satire a certain genre film edge.
Watch Yannick 2023 Movie Trailer
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