EMPIRE. Star Wars made in France

Star Wars as a brand guarantees a certain type of entertainment. One can argue whether one production is better or worse (usually the latter), but they provide entertainment that can be approached with a strong conviction regarding the conventions adopted by the creators. At the other end of the spectrum in this regard is Bruno Dumont, a director at the current stage of his career almost entirely unpredictable, whose filmography includes slow psychological dramas, metaphysical treatises, and slapstick grotesques. Dumont is capable of any stylistic turn and any theme. Proof of this is his latest film, shown in the main competition of the Berlinale, “Empire,” which is… an arthouse version of Star Wars, precisely.

If you think I’m exaggerating, take a look at the photos from the film – Dumont has launched a full-scale science fiction with spectacular designs of space cruisers, and even lightsabers used by the characters. All of this is then placed in a familiar provincial setting of a seaside village inhabited by a community endowed with particularly unique physiognomies. And such stylization is not the end, as Dumont uses the structure of space opera to tell the story of the clash of fundamental forces of good with the essence of evil, factions so archetypal and symbolic that they are appropriately named 1 and 0. At the center of the cosmic intrigue is a child, the Antichrist, who is born in an unassuming fisherman’s house. His appearance catalyzes the conflict of disguised agents of good and evil within the micro-community of Dumont, leading to a unique Battle for Earth, or as some may prefer to call it – the Apocalypse.

“Empire” begins as if after excursions into the fumes of absurdity (Dead Waters, Jeanette), Dumont returned to his roots, namely, the minimally expressive cinematic treatises – long shots of dunes and inhabitants of the seaside town walking between houses, ubiquitous dirt, and disturbingly distorted faces. However, the film quickly takes a turn revealing – in an extremely spectacular way – its fantastic aspect, from then on, until the spectacular finale, combining the raw aesthetics of social observation with exaggerated sci-fi paraphernalia. So here we have existentially saturated dialogues of proletarians covered in dust and grease, as well as floating cathedrals. It looks a bit like Burno Dumont compiled all his films – neomodernist contemplations and provocative metaphysics from the first stage of his work, and slapstick black humor and ostentatious genre ornaments from the last decade – and threw them together into a pot inspired by Star Wars, but also perhaps Dune. The effect is exactly as it sounds – abstract and intentionally or unintentionally comical.

At times, one might wonder if Dumont is testing the boundaries of audience patience, festival juries, and producers, checking how far he can go before someone tells him to “stop!” and exposes that the Frenchman is simply making deliberately weak cinema. However, at the same time, from watching “Empire,” one can derive perverse pleasure in seeing how Dumont “tricks” refined festival connoisseurs into watching something that could just as well be an amateur, low-budget passion project on YouTube. As befits such productions, Dumont creates a cast from a mix of professional actors, sometimes even stars like Fabrice Luchini or Anamaria Vartolomei, and naturals, whose involvement in prominent roles still constitutes his authorial signature. Moreover, since he is making a science fiction spectacle, he also introduces elements of world-building, as one should probably perceive the episodic appearances of the duo of policemen from Little Quinquin. One could say that Dumont simply doesn’t hold back and throws every, even the most insane and not necessarily successful, idea that comes to his mind into “Empire.” And even in that respect, it is a film deserving of recognition because, on the one hand, it pierces the bubble of arthouse pretension, and on the other hand, it is the work of a director fundamentally faithful to his intuition – even if it is not an intuition leading him to masterpieces.

If one expects psychologically deep cinema of contemplation from Bruno Dumont’s new film, “Empire” will be a severe disappointment – there is too much pastiche and abstract ideas here, as well as deliberately exaggerated symbolism. If one expects a smooth comedy mocking both artistic cinema and sci-fi spectacles, “Empire” will be a severe disappointment – there are too many dry jokes and scenes that seem to amuse rather the director, who realized that he can do anything, than the audience. If one expects a spectacle about the clash of galactic forces from “Empire” – in the end, “Empire” is, after all, a film shot on a moderate budget, mostly set in a seaside village. Disappointing everyone, Dumont deconstructs both space operas and ambitious arthouse, suggesting to us that there is not that much difference between Star Wars and The White Ribbon.

“Empire” is a tour de force and to some extent the quintessence of Bruno Dumont’s current phase of work – a bold, bizarre film that can only be conscientiously called successful in a moment of good humor. However, perhaps the creator from Flanders unexpectedly took a position in contemporary European cinema that this cinema needed but didn’t know about. Because it’s good to have such a madman who intertwines the festival lineup composed of serious dramas about Asian families and existential dilemmas of the European middle class with a whimsical spectacle about cosmic war with plebeian humor.