The prolific filmmaker Quentin Dupieux, whose movies include Rubber, Smoking Causes Coughing, Daaaaaalí! and Deerskin, has developed a highly singular style; his work often blends black humour, absurdity and surrealism as it deals with thought-provoking themes. Dupieux's films are known for their originality and often challenge conventional narrative storytelling, and his latest effort, the elaborately structured The Second Act, certainly upholds the director's reputation as a purveyor of quirky, offbeat fare. Dupieux seemingly has no trouble attracting big-name actors, with his previous films featuring stars including Jean Dujardin, Anaïs Demoustier, Gilles Lellouche, and Adéles Haenel and Exarchopoulos.
True to form for Dupieux, The Second Act features a stellar cast, one led by Louis Garrel, Vincent Lindon and Léa Seydoux. Garrel's David is first seen imploring his friend Willy (Raphaël Quenard, best known as the title character in Dupieux's Yannick) to make a play for the clingy Florence (Seydoux), who happens to be besotted with David. David and Willy are heading to the restaurant of the title, where they plan to meet with Florence and her father Guillaume (Lindon); as they walk, David mentions that they're being filmed, and it seems that the pair are actors in a movie. Upon arrival at The Second Act, David, Willy, Guillaume and Florence sit at a table where a jittery extra (Manuel Guillot) attempts to pour wine.
As the overwhelmed extra—whose name is Stéphane—persists with his lamentable efforts, the film's stars do their best to get him to relax, with little success, and the episode ends badly—very badly. But just as we think we've got a grip on proceedings, Dupieux pulls the rug from under us again, and it's revealed that these scenes with Stéphane are also part of the film-within-a-film, which, in a world first, is being directed entirely by AI. The Second Act is a film for which the label meta-textual is woefully insufficient; it ends much like it begins, with two men walking along a road, but by this stage we are even less sure of who or what we've been watching (in this sense, it recalls Leos Carax's confounding Holy Motors).
The self-reflexive The Second Act includes several statements concerning the ephemeral nature of cinema—although Florence vehemently argues in favour of what she sees as the essential service provided by actors—and the film itself deftly illustrates such claims. While both Deerskin and Rubber also used the Droste effect conceit, The Second Act is much more pointed in this regard. Dupieux's slippery film is as inconsequential as it is entertaining, a shaggy dog story in which the director and his game cast have a great deal of fun as they highlight the artifice of filmmaking; this wickedly clever divertissement stands as one of the most effective examples of mise en abyme cinema in recent years.
Darren Arnold
Images: Diaphana
