Keyhole

The first thing I noticed watching Keyhole was that Maddin's cinematography seemed flatter than usual. I love the grainy, high-contrast black-and-white look of his other films, so it was disappointing to me that he moved to digital. The grain is gone and the shadows aren't nearly as deep--and if there's one thing a Maddin movie needs, it's deep shadows. Then again, I don't remember noticing anything "off" about The Forbidden Room, which according to Wikipedia was also shot digitally, so maybe the technology just needed to improve, or Maddin needed to get better acquainted with it.

Anyhow. The movie itself is decent. I would call it a lesser effort by Maddin. Thematically it shares much in common with Brand Upon the Brain! in terms of returning to an old domicile and being haunted by its memories. Brand is a superior film. Stylistically there's nothing really new here. I would have been interested to see Maddin attempt more action, in keeping with the gangster motif, but apart from a shootout at the beginning there isn't much. There's enough good stuff to make the film worth watching, though. Maddin fans ought to find it satisfying, if not innovative.

I won't say I "like" Guy Maddin in the sense that I am a fan, but for sure his name makes me consider watching a film because while I normally find them difficult to follow or fully appreciate, they usually offer so much that is of interest that they are worth a look. His style is something quite unique to him and sometimes he is so unique that his target audience can appear to be only himself and if the rest of us like it too then so be it. I say this because this is sort of the case here and I hope he really likes Keyhole but I would struggle to think of too many people who would really understand it or enjoy it as he would.

There are lots of ideas here and lots of style to deliver them. A gangster and his gang hold up in an old house while the police wait outside; the gang want to know the plan but Ulysses Pick is more concerned with working his way through this house full of ghosts one room at a time. As an idea it is a good one – a man on a journey through himself by virtue of literally confronting the ghosts in his house. It appealed to me as an idea because it offered so much of interest in the hands of Maddin (who is known for his surreal imagery and films constructed around real or imagined or perceived pasts). Sadly it doesn't come off and it ends up feeling like an idea that was probably fully fleshed out in Maddin's head but not in a way that he was able to translate to film.

The result is a film that feels clever but all too often does it in a remote "art student" manner where it is happy doing what it wants because it is your fault if you are not smart enough to understand and appreciate all the hidden meaning in the symbolism. It is a shame because there is a good cast here in Patric, Rossellini and Kier but I wonder do even they really understand what it going on – I hope not, because if they did then they didn't do much to share it with the viewer.

A disappointing film then; it offers much in the concept but in the delivery it seems far too closed off and full of randomness with no threads or cues to really help the viewer keep up or go along. Maddin is usually worth a look but here it isn't the case.

Before viewing, I saw this film referred to as a '30s Gangster homage' or noir-styled 'drama'. For anyone expecting a throwback film or conventional narrative, Keyhole will confuse and then, probably, disappoint. In fact, Keyhole is a very abstract take on the memories and emotions harboured inside an old house, which is inhabited by ghosts and other slaves to the past. And while Keyhole isn't a gripping crime thriller, neither should it be taken purely as an academic statement or challenging art-house experiment. Like most of Maddin's films, the dark absurdity and creative imagery is almost casually amusing and less pretentious than comparable movies. The cinematography, music, art direction and performances are tremendously captivating, if occasionally over-bearing. For anyone who's intrigued by these elements as much as by the often-mislead depiction of the film in mainstream media should definitely see Keyhole. Anyone who's turned off by bizarre inventions of unorthodox storytelling should leave this door locked.

Gangster Ulysses Pick (Jason Patric) has his men shoot their way into a home surrounded by police. Big Ed is second-in-command and he tells the dead to walk out. There is a bound and gagged man. The house is haunted. Ulysses has a girl Denny with him who is soaking wet, supposedly drowned and blind. They go in search for his wife Hyacinth (Isabella Rossellini). His gang wonders about Ulysses' plans and fight amongst themselves.

It's yet another Guy Maddin experimental film. This is almost watchable as the mystery of what this is truly about holds the audience's attendance. This is a black and white dreamscape or a nightmare. I wonder if Maddin can ever use his outlandish imagery in a more conventional movie. The production is relatively simple. There are a couple of interesting actors here. Like a lot of his movies, Maddin loses me about halfway through.

Stumbling out of the theater, my friend said in a small voice, "I think that was even stranger than Hourglass Sanatorium".

This one follows a cast of characters comprising a family whose given names are evocative of literary figures, ways of being, and pretty objects. Unsurprisingly, the character Ulysses is on a rambling quest to find something that may not exist at all -- an adumbrate vision of his wife Hyacinth. Oh, and all he has to do is make it from the first floor of his house to the third.

March (crawl, duck, run) behind them while they are sometimes nude, scraping at things, or shaking dice (there's a joke about masturbation in here somewhere), navigating their bilious house that has a ton of locked doors and a mess of floating dust particles, which -- I'm going out on a limb -- are probably metaphor for the thickness of whatever it is that came between them.

My favorite thematic preoccupation lies in Maddin's stirring portrayal of the fuzzy line between life and death, with figures floating in and out of the frame (and existence), incorporating themselves into deadly vanishing-vignettes that keep recurring, and, corporeal, positioning themselves in zones of the house and grounds that Maddin somehow conveys to the audience are "dead space".