|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Guy Maddin’s film is exuberantly, triumphantly artificial, with sets and a sensibility like Doktor Caligari with a sense of humor or Fritz Lang collaborating with Buster Keaton or even Monty Python. It’s a tale of the redeeming power of art, of the struggle of the isolated genius who must share his vision with the world, and (of course) of the unending torments of screwed-up families. You could think of it as the happy version of Lars von Trier’s Dogville. In Depression-era Winnipeg, beer tycoon Lady Port-Huntley (Isabella Rossellini) institutes a contest that will give $25,000 to anyone who can produce the saddest music in the world (it will move more people to buy her product, she speculates). Contestants come from every nation to compete. They include Port-Huntley’s old flame Chester, now a repatriated American. It seems Chester was having an affair with her while she was betrothed to Chester’s father; the ménage ended badly with Port-Huntley losing both legs in a freak accident worthy of Peter Greenaway. There are, then, many issues to be resolved, and the contest proves a kind of musical Olympics crossed with Family Feud as Chester comes representing America, dad performs for Canada, and long-lost brother Roderick shows up to saw at a cello for Serbia. Perhaps the best line of the film, one that sums it all up, comes from Maria de Medeiros as Chester’s mistress Narcissa: "I’m not an American; I’m a nymphomaniac." The Saddest Music in the World sublimates sadness into a thirst for beer. (99 minutes)
BY PETER KEOUGH
|
