Producers: Thomas Verhaeghe and Mathieu Verhaeghe Director: Quentin Dupieux Screenplay: Quentin Dupieux Cast: Anaïs Demoustier, Gilles Lellouche, Édouard Baer, Jonathan Cohen, Pio Marmaï, Didier Flamand, Boris Gillot, Romain Duris, Agnès Hurstel, Éric Naggar, Catherine Shaub-Abkarian, Laurent Nicolas, Marie Bunel, Sandrine Blancke, Johann Dionnet, Philippe Dusseau and Ken Samuels Distributor: Music Box Films
Grade: B+
Salvador Dali was as much showman as artist, and Quentin Dupieux revels in the fact in his film, a joyously surrealistic take on the surrealist self-promoter. “Daaaaaali!”—the constellation of “a”s represents the six actors who play Dali in the picture, often blending into one another—is a flamboyantly outlandish portrait that is consistently amusing, though it elicits a stream of chuckles rather than a flurry of belly-laughs.
If one’s looking for structure, Dupieux’s script—the writer as well as the director, editor and cinematographer (Thomas Bangalter composed the cheekily repetitive guitar score)—is centered around an attempt by barista and would-be journalist Judith Rochant (Anaïs Demoustier) to do an interview with the artist. It’s an effort that, despite the aid of her assistant Lucie (Agnès Hurstel), meets with one disaster after another, resulting in a mixture of patience and frustration on the part of her cagey producer Jérôme (Romain Duris).
But there’s a second thread intertwined with the first. It comes in a dinner invitation Dali and his wife Gala (Catherine Schaub-Abkarian) accept from his gardener Georges (Laurent Nicolas). The meal consists of a noxious stew prepared by Georges’ cook (Sandrine Blancke), but more importantly it’s marked by an elaborate recitation by another guest, a priest named Jacques (Éric Naggar), of a strange dream he’d experienced. Every time he appears to have finished, he resumes with another episode; when Dali expresses his boredom (and emerges after it’s over as an old man in a wheelchair, blaming his host) and rejects the notion that it might act as inspiration for him, the priest unveils a painting illustrating it he’s drawn himself, which Dali impulsively signs. It becomes the subject of an absurd continuation when it’s purchased at auction by a rich collector (Marie Bunel) where a pistol-packing cowboy (Ken Samuels) from the priest’s dream also shows up.
Throughout Dali, in his various manifestations, tosses out insults against others and encomia to himself with equal abandon. Many of his outbursts are captured In fairly conventional stylistic fashion, even when he’s shown painting an outlandish rustic scene employing models fitted out like the strange figures on the canvas. But most are given a surrealistic edge, like the first, delivered as he’s walking down the hallway to Judith’s hotel room. The repeated cuts back and forth from Judith and Lucie awaiting him at the door to him suggest what appears to be an endless corridor; the swooning effect is not unlike being put off kilter by one of his paintings.
It’s inarguable that the public persona Dali cultivated—here he repeatedly opines that his paintings are mediocre, but infused with his personality they become works of genius—makes him an inviting target for Dupieux’s treatment as much as his surrealism does. But that doesn’t ensure that the outcome will be as engaging as the one Dupieux has contrived. “Daaaaaali!” isn’t profound, but it doesn’t try to be. It doesn’t try to analyze its subject as much as reflect his oversized self-indulgence. And in that it succeeds as an infectious celebration of an eccentric man.
It’s impossible to single out one of the six actors playing Dali as the best; they’re all over-the-top in a good way, relishing the snarky lines Dupieux provides them with. Among the others Demoustier stands out as the put-upon interviewer, as does Naggar as the befuddled priest. But everyone, including Philippe Dusseau as Dali’s put-upon chauffeur, join in the weirdness.
Though it will appeal especially to those familiar with Dali, this can provide a good time to anyone with a funnybone.