Filmed in 2020 during the height of the Covid, this self-proclaimed “grindhouse thriller” by director Mike Cuenca fruitlessly attempts something in the vein of Pulp Fiction laced with a dash of Contagion. Made up from multiple, seemingly disparate crime-caper narratives that take place in the midst of an unnamed (and strangely inconsequential) global pandemic, this tame tale is ultimately a total swing and miss attempt at a kitschy, ’70s-style exploitation flick.
After a laughable desert-bound prologue featuring some of our unconvincing actors “sinking” into “quicksand”, the real story begins. It’s a collection of four long vignettes that offer little drama or fun, only thin hints of an insubstantial plot that’s kept secret until the very end. Firstly, bored Crystal (Jennifer Daley) and jigsaw enthusiast Hue’s (Robby Valls) mundane relationship is distracted by a mysterious phone caller – a Spanish-tongued seductress who happens to be the narratives’ through-line. Exotic and sultry, The Caller’s (Laura Urgelles) full face and location is not revealed, being defined only by her red lips dragging on a cigarette. She flirts with and tempts Hue, using some racy dialogue, but this light amusement is truncated as the movie crisscrosses between its further stories.
Next is the flatly comedic saga of Forester (Grant Moninger) who is mistaken for his robber twin brother and thusly held at gunpoint by two bumbling hitmen; following this is the mystery of Lane’s (Amanda Viola) bicycle friend, Jake (Aaron Bastos), who is suddenly presumed dead. Peppered between are ribald but pointless episodes of a famous comic book cosplayer and the obsessive attention she receives. And finally, the film re-joins Hue on his search for the now-missing Crystal, where he ultimately learns of the humdrum conspiracy of love, crime, and betrayal that binds these characters together.
The writers devoted legit thought to this revelatory ending, but it’s not enough to justify the 60-minute slog we’ve just witnessed. This is the overall issue of Like a Dirty French Novel. Ambition and creativity are somewhat present; the characters aren’t engaging but their interplay is humorously absurd at times, and the filmmakers deserve credit for attempting to shoot safely during a lockdown and on a low budget. However, the stifling effects of this are felt; the constant apartment locations enhance the monotony of the plot, which at no point lives up to its title. There’s nothing sexy or edgy to sink one’s teeth into; what transpires is not lurid exploitation, but more boring lockdown fever dream – accentuated by a dizzying repetitive musical score.
The coveted retro style is the film’s final downfall. On top of its heartfelt little references and cameos by old movies, pulp novels, and comic books, director Cuenca fixes his digitally-shot picture with a grain filter that vainly recalls aged celluloid. It’s erroneous both technically and thematically. Given that the surprisingly chaste content resembles sleazy Grindhouse affairs in no way, it feels desperate, incongruous, and even treacherous of Cuenca to dress it up as one. Like a dirty French novel? More like a tepid TV serial.
LIKE A DIRTY FRENCH NOVEL premieres at the Dances with Film Festival on August 28th, 2021
