Litan

I hadn't heard of the name Jean Pierre Mocky before. Taking a look at his filmography it seems he did extensively idiosynchratic cross-genre work that remains not merely obscure but fundamentally unseen. If Litan is anything to go by, I want to see more. This French film is like a distraught female protagonist running through the foggy cobblestone roads and patios of a small provincial town, now and then out of the fog strange masked figures emerge to peer at her, a brass band is playing marching tunes by the river, and the populace behaves in the grip of a demented festive amok. I like how the movie toys with the idea that the general hysteria may not just be part of the celebrating of a local festival, that something more sinister may be afoot, that this feels like a dream because it very well may be. The town hospital doesn't look like a hospital, it looks like the grotesque abstraction of a hospital someone would dream. The movie opens with fragments of images, then a woman wakes up feeling her husband is in peril. As the movie goes on we see those fragments play out as parts of larger pictures, like the dream is fulfilling itself. I also like how the movie doesn't settle conveniently on this point of predestination. All the while a doctor performs tests on a kid the victim of an accident, the kid seems to be clinically dead, yet it isn't. There's a reach to or from the beyond struggling to express itself here and the end may put some viewers off just as well as it may excite others. The only thing for sure here is that Litan is a cult curio that we're only now beginning to discover. It rightfully deserves a place somewhere between Lynch and Jess Franco of Venus in Furs.