“The Surfer”, Nicolas Cage on the finish of his rope


MIDNIGHT SHOWINGS — After the oppressive “Vivarium”, Irish director Lorcan Finnegan takes nice pleasure in staging in a B-movie fashion the ordeal, then the revenge, of a father who’s the sufferer of low-level locals beneath the solar of Australia.

Nicolas Cage is again in Cannes, and he isn’t comfortable. Gramercy Photos/Tea Store & Movie Firm/Arenamedia/Pretty Productions

By Jérémie Couston

Printed on Could 18, 2024 at 8:14 p.m.

Up to date Could 21, 2024 at 12:19 p.m.

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He had not returned to Cannes since 1990 and the Palme d’Or Sailor and Lula. Consecration which made him the star of the nineties earlier than his profession, and his hair, took, on the flip of the century and the millennium, a extra nebulous type. Cosmic, narcotic or fiscal causes, the thriller stays unsolved, and Nicolas Cage started to movie as much as 5 movies per 12 months, generally so abstruse that they’ve turn into cult. This was the case of Mandy, notably grueling experimental horror movie by Panos Cosmatos and offered in 2018 on the Administrators’ Fortnight. Already a narrative of vendetta wherein he tried to take down the folks guru and the gang of terrible bikers who had the audacity to roast his girlfriend on the barbecue.

Screened Friday Could 17 on the Croisette, in midnight screening, The Surfer, by Lorcan Finnegan, can be much like a “revenge film” and provides to the record of sadistic movies wherein poor “Nic” is martyred for no obvious purpose apart from that his head doesn’t return to anybody, earlier than succeeding, or not, to boost it (his head). “You may’t cease a wave, you both experience it or it smashes you”, metaphorizes the divorced dad (Nicolas Cage, subsequently) by parking his automotive within the car parking zone of the spot he needs to introduce to his teenage son, who stays impervious to life classes disguised as browsing classes. A real little paradise on the Australian west coast, with its luxurious villas, its espresso store, its seashore and its rollers, this distinctive setting can be the place the place his father spent a part of his childhood, and the place he goals to purchase again the home that when belonged to his grandfather. Suffice to say that when he’s turned away by a gaggle of native surfers who do not wish to see any “foreigners” of their ocean (« You don’t reside right here, you don’t surf right here ! »), Nic is upset. Then begins a protracted descent into hell beneath the triple banner of tribalism, humiliation and poisonous masculinity.

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In Vivarium, the earlier movie by Irish director Lorcan Finnegan, found at Critics’ Week in 2019, Imogen Poots and Jesse Eisenberg by no means managed to get out of the suburban housing property wherein they’d visited a home. The identical curse strikes the hero of The Surfer who turns into an involuntary prisoner of the car parking zone with a sea view the place he dared to enterprise. Stripped successively of his sun shades, his cellphone, his watch, his sneakers, his Lexus, to not point out his dignity, the surfer progressively transforms right into a tramp, via assaults and irrational animosity. that he suffers from every particular person he encounters (espresso store waiter, policeman referred to as to the rescue, actual property agent, and many others.) which makes all resistance ineffective.

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Sleeveless bathrobe

We then consider the nightmare skilled by the schoolteacher Waking up in terror (1971), by Ted Kotcheff, trapped by heatwave and beer in a disaster-stricken city within the Australian outback from which he tried in useless to flee. Paranoia and hostile rurality are the 2 breasts of “ozploitation”, a portmanteau phrase which designates these style movies characterised by their violence and their crudeness, produced inexpensively from 1970 in Australia and exploiting native stereotypes: browsing , beer, bush, kangaroos… With its daring framing, these close-ups on the fauna and flora – additionally as if ganged up towards the hero –, its psychedelic blurs and its desperately darkish humor, Lorcan Finnegan’s course ostensibly eyes this good outdated B sequence from the seventies. Is the portray of surfers as alpha males each tyrannical and vaguely hippie, beneath the affect of a guru in a sleeveless bathrobe, in any other case an excellent household man, an indication that patriarchy, within the antipodes as elsewhere, shouldn’t be hasn’t completed wreaking havoc? Expiatory sufferer of this unique masculinist fault, Nicolas Cage will find yourself rebelling in a fairly sudden and notably cathartic consequence for the spectator, which entails a lifeless rat and a shark’s tooth. It can then be time to log on.

qThe Surfer, by Lorcan Finnegan (Australia/Eire, 1h39). With Nicolas Cage. Midnight session. Ready for launch date.

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