Film: Rubber
Release date: 11th April 2011
Certificate: 15
Running time: 82 mins
Director: Quentin Dupieux
Starring: Stephen Spinella, Jack Plotnick, Wings Hauser, Roxane Mesquida, Ethan Cohn
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Horror
Studio: Optimum
Format: DVD
Country: France
This is an English-language release.
Who said you need an entire car to make a road movie? Quentin Dupieux certainly doesn’t in Rubber, a road movie like no other. Yes, it’s spattered with Cronenberg-style exploding heads; yes, the hero is a desert-dwelling Oliver Stone-cum-Tarantino killer…but he is also a tyre. And, yes, that tyre is undoubtedly male.
Rubber is a Natural Born Killers-esque creation set in an unnamed American desert with an English speaking, American accented cast.
Observed by a peculiar group of unexplained onlookers, a psychokinetic tyre embarks on a killing spree. Through the safety of binoculars, his spectators watch the bloody adventure unfold from a remote rocky precipice, under the impression that they are watching a film. Unaffected, therefore, by the unlikely deaths that they witness, the question of whether or not it is ‘just a movie’ that they are watching is up to the audience to decide.
As the greasy murderer unleashes his powers, he takes on an identity that any filmic psycho would be proud of. Viewers on both sides of the screen respond as they would to most anti-heroes and it always comes as an amusing surprise to be reminded that this tyre shouldn’t even be moving on its own, much less taking a shower or fixating on women. So convincingly does ‘Robert’, as credited at the end, ‘perform’, that his character actually causes offence when he silently rolls away from a 16-year-old boy’s warning about the police.
As human as he might seem, conversation is not his strong point. Cunning, however, he is, and the smug assassin is already one step - or roll - ahead of the bumbling team on his track. Their botched tyre hunt actually results in a feeble attempt to trick the criminal - and this is when every single person who has ever watched a film is given a voice. Perhaps it is this brutally honest voice that is the true hero of the tale, for this scene alone makes Rubber worth watching...
Rubber is a film dedicated to nothing and the opening monologue boastfully embraces that fact. Dupieux celebrates “no reason,” and by establishing this with considerable aggression right from the start, viewers’ minds are wonderfully liberated. Finally, they are given permission to not only admit, but bask in the knowledge that there is no reason for this film: there is no pressure to enjoy it or to seek esoteric messages. This is why Rubber is so enjoyable.
So, rather paradoxically, by bringing this to the forefront of the viewing mind, Dupieux’s third venture has yielded one of the most revealing films made about its industry. It makes a laughing-stock of indie filmmakers and parodies Hollywood so effectively that it is impossible not to agree with everything his characters proclaim. Audience interaction is an understatement - audience mind-reading is more accurate, for most members have become so accustomed to film viewing that they can’t even identify the feelings of frustration that Dupieux articulates so well. Rubber does this for them.
Both sides of the film industry come under the director’s comical attack. Everyone’s had a go at Hollywood and Dupieux couldn’t get away with not doing likewise. The tyre’s character development is so typical of commercial cinema that the film proves that even an inanimate object can fill an overpaid American’s shoes. Story-wise, it is flawlessly simple: ridiculously transparent and utterly unoriginal. That is, of course, the point (not that anything has a point, remember). Aesthetically, it is mainstream right through to the inner tube, and the production values look as high as any blockbuster: clean shots of razor sharp imagery are seamlessly edited together so that Rubber is effortless to watch. But the other side of the coin is subject to equal ridicule in a commendably brave and rare move on Dupieux’s part. The audience is allowed to mock experimental filmmakers and arrogant auteurs, and, in all honesty, who hasn’t done that privately? Rubber proudly unleashes that dirty secret for all to openly agree with.
To a slightly lesser extent, viewers are also invited to question the line between fiction and reality, and it’s a shame that Dupieux doesn’t keep this consistent throughout - but then that might make the film far too purposeful. Instead, he opts to take his audience on an utterly surreal, rather Buñel-inspired trip through what may or may not be a movie…and viewers really are taken on this fantastic journey because he has made a film well and truly from their perspective.
Devoted, therefore, not only to nothingness, but to the film viewers themselves, Rubber is striking in its originality, which is comical in its unoriginality and hugely satisfying in its candour. Ironically, it is in fact one of the most meaningful, yet enjoyable films on the market. Easy to watch, easy to ‘get’ and easy to enthuse about - it is also impossible to forget. RS
Who said you need an entire car to make a road movie? Quentin Dupieux certainly doesn’t in Rubber, a road movie like no other. Yes, it’s spattered with Cronenberg-style exploding heads; yes, the hero is a desert-dwelling Oliver Stone-cum-Tarantino killer…but he is also a tyre. And, yes, that tyre is undoubtedly male.
Rubber is a Natural Born Killers-esque creation set in an unnamed American desert with an English speaking, American accented cast.
Observed by a peculiar group of unexplained onlookers, a psychokinetic tyre embarks on a killing spree. Through the safety of binoculars, his spectators watch the bloody adventure unfold from a remote rocky precipice, under the impression that they are watching a film. Unaffected, therefore, by the unlikely deaths that they witness, the question of whether or not it is ‘just a movie’ that they are watching is up to the audience to decide.
As the greasy murderer unleashes his powers, he takes on an identity that any filmic psycho would be proud of. Viewers on both sides of the screen respond as they would to most anti-heroes and it always comes as an amusing surprise to be reminded that this tyre shouldn’t even be moving on its own, much less taking a shower or fixating on women. So convincingly does ‘Robert’, as credited at the end, ‘perform’, that his character actually causes offence when he silently rolls away from a 16-year-old boy’s warning about the police.
As human as he might seem, conversation is not his strong point. Cunning, however, he is, and the smug assassin is already one step - or roll - ahead of the bumbling team on his track. Their botched tyre hunt actually results in a feeble attempt to trick the criminal - and this is when every single person who has ever watched a film is given a voice. Perhaps it is this brutally honest voice that is the true hero of the tale, for this scene alone makes Rubber worth watching...
Rubber is a film dedicated to nothing and the opening monologue boastfully embraces that fact. Dupieux celebrates “no reason,” and by establishing this with considerable aggression right from the start, viewers’ minds are wonderfully liberated. Finally, they are given permission to not only admit, but bask in the knowledge that there is no reason for this film: there is no pressure to enjoy it or to seek esoteric messages. This is why Rubber is so enjoyable.
So, rather paradoxically, by bringing this to the forefront of the viewing mind, Dupieux’s third venture has yielded one of the most revealing films made about its industry. It makes a laughing-stock of indie filmmakers and parodies Hollywood so effectively that it is impossible not to agree with everything his characters proclaim. Audience interaction is an understatement - audience mind-reading is more accurate, for most members have become so accustomed to film viewing that they can’t even identify the feelings of frustration that Dupieux articulates so well. Rubber does this for them.
Both sides of the film industry come under the director’s comical attack. Everyone’s had a go at Hollywood and Dupieux couldn’t get away with not doing likewise. The tyre’s character development is so typical of commercial cinema that the film proves that even an inanimate object can fill an overpaid American’s shoes. Story-wise, it is flawlessly simple: ridiculously transparent and utterly unoriginal. That is, of course, the point (not that anything has a point, remember). Aesthetically, it is mainstream right through to the inner tube, and the production values look as high as any blockbuster: clean shots of razor sharp imagery are seamlessly edited together so that Rubber is effortless to watch. But the other side of the coin is subject to equal ridicule in a commendably brave and rare move on Dupieux’s part. The audience is allowed to mock experimental filmmakers and arrogant auteurs, and, in all honesty, who hasn’t done that privately? Rubber proudly unleashes that dirty secret for all to openly agree with.
To a slightly lesser extent, viewers are also invited to question the line between fiction and reality, and it’s a shame that Dupieux doesn’t keep this consistent throughout - but then that might make the film far too purposeful. Instead, he opts to take his audience on an utterly surreal, rather Buñel-inspired trip through what may or may not be a movie…and viewers really are taken on this fantastic journey because he has made a film well and truly from their perspective.
Devoted, therefore, not only to nothingness, but to the film viewers themselves, Rubber is striking in its originality, which is comical in its unoriginality and hugely satisfying in its candour. Ironically, it is in fact one of the most meaningful, yet enjoyable films on the market. Easy to watch, easy to ‘get’ and easy to enthuse about - it is also impossible to forget. RS
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