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Daydream Believer

Michel Gondry   

 

A retrospective on the films of Michel Gondry. Stephen Collings looks at one of the more original filmmakers – the quirkysomethings – working in Hollywood today

Hollywood cinema is often criticised for being driven by technology with most modern films resolutely 'high concept', where the entire plot can be summed up by the tagline, or even the title itself (Snakes On A Plane, anyone?). Happily, there is a growing trend for films that require a more active audience, ready to surrender a few brain cells to the imaginations of Hollywood's new set of quirkysomethings. Whilst the likes of Terry Zwigoff (Ghost World), Alexander Payne (Sideways) and Wes Anderson (The Royal Tenenbaums) are fine exponents of offbeat comedies, a certain cadre of directors take the notion of offbeat and wrest it further off its hinges. And in doing so, these graduates from the world of MTV and music promos are opening up exciting new cinematic landscapes. Cult scribe Charlie Kaufman may have propagated this seismic shift of creativity but his favoured directors, Spike Jonze (Adaptation, Being John Malkovich) and Michel Gondry (Human Nature, The Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind) seem to have ridden this new wave to creative autonomy. Firmly in the Kaufman mould, Gondry returns this month with the much-anticipated The Science Of Sleep, written by the director himself, and only his third full-length feature to date.

In the early days of cinema, long before audiences were entertained with such forward-thinking notions as colour film or even sound, directors and filmmakers alike had to rely on imagination as the most powerful tool in the cinematic arsenal. In contrast to supposed innovators like George Lucas who had computers on their side, the tricks and techniques of French magician and filmmaker Georges Méliès (1861-1938), while almost single-handedly inventing modern fantasy cinema, came from a desire to push the limitations of not only technology but to recreate on screen the worlds of dreams; worlds that are limited only by the human capacity for imagination. It is these unrealities that inspire Gondry, creeping right through his remarkable film oeuvre.

Born and raised in Versailles, France, Gondry's love of the moving image began with a self-built Zoetrope (constructed from Meccano) and paper flipbooks. “I was drawing from a very young age,” he later commented. “I liked it. When people know you can draw they ask you to draw different things, so it's as though you're already part of society. If you're good at drawing you have a social role, however young you are. And you produce something tangible at the same time as being creative.”

Gondry soon headed to art college in Paris, finding a creative outlet playing drums for the band Oui Oui, for whom he also took charge of music promo production. Utilising the stop motion techniques honed in his childhood, these evocative shorts achieved rotation on MTV where they caught the attention of former Sugarcubes singer, Björk, who was then embarking on her illustrious solo career. Revitalising the music video genre, Gondry's first promo for the Icelandic songstress, “Human Behaviour”, was a Grimm fairytale, a visual feast of animated moths and camera trickery that featured her running through a forest from a large (and presumably hungry) teddy bear. When Björk sings “there is definitely, definitely no logic”, the majority of the MTV audience might well have nodded in agreement, but there is always more to Gondry's work than meets the proverbial eye. The use of animated models, richly textured composites and screen projections are just a few of the visual techniques that Gondry continues to explore in his surreal playground.

Since then, Gondry has enjoyed a fruitful artistic relationship with Björk. In “Army Of Me”, Gondry adapted the industrial soundscape of her album, Post, with a nightmarish vision of an industrialised city inhabited by gorilla-suited dentists and monster trucks powered by diamonds, while his promo for “Hyperballad” similarly embraces the modern; the singer's digitised face is projected over her sleeping form, while a crudely pixelated mini-Björk jumps off cliffs constructed from paper. Though his representation of the free-associated imagery described in Björk's dreamscape is visually arresting, it's the precision of the sound editing, matching flashing lights with glockenspiel notes, that sets the video aside from its contemporaries.

Gondry's videos are journeys that need to be followed until the end, even when the narrative, like his video for Cibo Matto's “Sugar/Water”, is told with palindromic split screens. Often the seemingly mundane and even repetitive events on screen are subtle conceits to Gondry's grand concepts. On Daft Punk's “Around The World”, a small ensemble of retro robotic dancers move around a limited set, yet each person on screen represents an element of the music. In this interpretive dance, figures move up and down steps as the music moves up and down the scale. Gondry took this idea further in The Chemical Brothers' “Star Guitar”, which, on the surface at least, is just one long shot of the rolling landscape as seen from a train window. Again, each part of the scenery is repetitive, but every passing train, pylon or house represents an element of the music, from the percussion to the melody, almost as if the landscape itself was composing the song.

Even when Gondry works with populist artists like The White Stripes or Kylie Minogue, his videos still resemble avant-garde shorts, even if the mundane suddenly springs to life in a dance routine worthy of Busby Berkeley. His stop-motion triumph, transforming The White Stripes into animated Lego bricks for “Fell In Love With A Girl”, demonstrates Gondry's understanding of the immediacy of postmodern pop iconography and his reluctance to put away his childish things. Gondry treats every promo as a conceptual short film opportunity; like his fellow countryman Méliès, who used spatial trickery to create the illusion that he was inflating a man's head, Gondry uses similar devices in The White Stripes' “The Denial Twist”. As if the world was a literal hall of mirrors, the pallid duo's bodies are constantly adapting to their amorphous bodies, distorting ideas of relativity and space.

Gondry's unique sense of aesthetics earned him a succession of commercial contracts including Gap, Smirnoff, Air France, Nike, Coca-Cola, Adidas, Polaroid and Levi's and, predictably, Gondry soon showed up on the Hollywood radar, to direct his first feature movie Human Nature in 2001. Based on a Kaufman screenplay, this quirky comedy stars Rhys Ifans as a feral man who attracts the attentions of naturalist Patricia Arquette who, in turn, plays the lover of scientist Tim Robbins. Although there were concerns that Gondry's conceptual talents would not translate to feature-length narratives, the film, despite its bizarre love triangle, was a comparatively linear affair. Bereft of the director's usual flair, Human Nature was actually something of a disappointment and achieved only modest returns.

However, the film still paved the way for Gondry to direct The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), for which he again collaborated with Kaufman. In the film, Joel (Jim Carrey) discovers that his girlfriend, Clementine (Kate Winslet), has paid to have every memory of him erased from her mind. Out of desperation, Joel elects for the same treatment, but as his memories of Clementine begin to disappear, he realises how much he still loves her. Clearly influenced by the anti-linearity perfected by the likes of Chris Marker (La Jetée), Gondry irreverently leaps around through the narrative, blurring the distinctions between what is real and what is remembered; yet his stylish execution, evidence of his music promo experience, ensures that he never loses his audience. The counter-intuitively low-tech special effects, handheld camerawork and synapse-firing jump cuts suggest a filmmaker fully engaged with his source material, applying his artistry to every frame. The film was a universal hit with both critics and audiences alike.

Alongside his contemporaries, Gondry is a true transgressor of the boundaries of modern moving image, and while he has played his part in pushing the technological envelope – his video for the Rolling Stone's “Like A Rolling Stone” pioneered some of the time-bending techniques popularised in The Matrix – his true currency is his imagination. Of all the '90s generation of promo wunderkinds turned feature helmers, Gondry's essential humanism has perhaps the most crossover appeal. While Jonathan Glazer's stylish yet ultimately bleak tales have yet to find a significant audience and Spike Jonze has fallen off the radar since 2002's Adaptation, Gondry looks set to steal a march with his dreamlike worlds and fanciful explorations of the human mind, further in evidence in The Science Of Sleep.

Starring Gael García Bernal in only his second English-speaking role, Sleep tells the story of Stéphane (Bernal) whose mundane existence is brought to life in vivid dreams where he is the host of his own TV show in a cut-and-paste wonderland complete with cardboard cameras. Stéphane falls in love with neighbour Stéphanie (Charlotte Gainsbourg) who is initially charmed by his eccentricities, but is deterred by his childish ways and amorous persistence. Instead of pulling his head out of the clouds, Stéphane turns to his dreamland to find ways to woo her.

Arguably Gondry's most autobiographical piece to date, the film bears all the hallmarks of Gondry's previous work, including fantastical animated dream sequences and a preoccupation with the trappings of childhood. When Stéphane's mother comments on her son, “he has always confused his dreams with reality”, she could easily be speaking of Gondry himself. Without a Kaufman script to anchor Gondry's freewheeling imagination, the film could easily have descended into a chaotic mess of directorial doodles, but Gondry successfully maintains the emotional core without ever slipping into scatterbrained whimsy. It's a generally accepted idea that dreams are simply the subconscious rationalisation of our waking hours, but in Gondry's world, it is in the state of slumber that human emotions are most vivid and real. Of all the private spaces to share in life, the human mind is perhaps the most intimate.

With an exasperating videography, Gondry shows no sign of slowing down, churning out a constant stream of promos, shorts and even the full-length music documentary Dave Chappelle's Block Party, released earlier this year. His next project, Be Kind, Rewind, is slated to star Jack Black as a man whose magnetised brain unintentionally destroys every tape in his friend's video store and, in order to satisfy the store's ageing yet most loyal renter, sets out to remake every one of the lost films, including Back To The Future, The Lion King and Robocop. Even on paper this sounds a fantastic prospect, and further evidence that the conceptual quirkysomethings of cinema are continuing the noble fight against a high-concept industry. Vive la Révolution!


 

 
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