Review: Rubber

 

Every now and then, you hear a premise for a movie so ridiculous, you cannot resist the siren song of its absurdity.  Previously, there was The Human Centipede: First Sequence that was so bizarre in its conception, it begged for one, disappointing viewing.  Now comes Rubber, a movie ostensibly about the travels of a come-to-life car tire with the ability to make things go boom with its mind.  Or something.  While it's hard to imagine that such a premise could sustain an entire film, or at least successfully sustain one, Rubber is actually less a horror film about a murderous tire than a manifesto for independent filmmakers to reintroduce absurdity back into film.

Rubber begins with a breaking-the-fourth-wall introduction by Lieutenant Chad (Stephen Spinella), who asks the audience why E.T. was brown, or why some people like sausage and some people don't, ending with the only reasonable answer: no reason.  Rubber, Lieutenant Chad declares, is a movie about "no reason."  As he departs, binoculars are handed out by the Accountant (Jack Plotnick) to a group of Observers who watch the goings-on of the film from a desert hillside, frequently interrupting the film to comment on it as it happens.  Among them, a man in a wheelchair (Wings Hauser) seems to be the most committed to seeing every second of the film as it unfolds, much to the dismay of the performers and Accountant.

Meanwhile, in what is billed as the movie proper, the psychokinetic tire becomes obsessed with a beautiful girl, Sheila (Roxane Mesquida), it sees pass on the highway, following her to a remote motel where it observes her in the shower, and at the pool, gaining a strange self-awareness as it kills several strangers who serve as obstacles to its obsession.  Finally, the police, led by Lieutenant Chad, are forced to hunt down the tire and put an end to the swath of head-popping destruction.

Kind of.  There are numerous twists, less in terms of plot than in the interactions between the Accountant, the Observers, and the movie they observe.  This may seem confusing, but I assure you it makes sense within the context of the film.

 

Writer/director/editor Quentin Dupieux has done something impressive with Rubber.  He's managed to create a film about surrealist cinema and absurdity without alienating the viewer.  In some experimental cinema, Jodoworsky's Holy Mountain leaps to mind,  the filmmaker's vision is so unique, so startling, it casts the viewer in the detached role of observer, watching something that is certainly art, but not allowing a visceral connection.  Dupieux instead crafts a thoroughly entertaining, almost entirely captivating piece of work here that includes the audience in its joke from the first moments.  Dupieux not only wants us to enjoy his vision, he wants us to enjoy his movie, to make it happily to the end so he can make a final statement about Hollywood filmmaking.  It's satisfying, funny, near-genius work.

For those of you who, like myself, often find surrealist and experimental cinema rewarding, but often tough going as a viewer, Rubber serves as a sort of primer, to introduce ideas and images that constantly entertain.  In only a few moments of the film does the pacing lag, but the ship rights itself quickly, much like that rubber tire, rolling down a desert highway on a mission of passion.  Perhaps not exactly a horror film, there are enough exploding skulls to satisfy the bloodthirsty and a wealth of ideas to pick apart long after the movie ends.  In the world of independent film, this is head and shoulders my favorite of the year so far.  Rubber is still touring many small theaters throughout the country and deserves your time.  You'll have just as much fun talking about the film afterwards as you did watching it, and that's some fun, indeed.