by Ms. Marquise

I went to bed on Wednesday deeply regretting my birthday travel plans for Friday, because I was going to miss the long awaited DJ set of a talented French electro producer Mr. Oizo AKA director Quentin Dupieux at Webster Hall. “How trite,” I thought as I tried to neglect the sinking feeling of disappointment I felt, at committing myself to a three-way birthday party with my mother and brother. As I woke up in the morning, the knowledge of pushing such feelings too deep dawned on me like the bright gray sun reflecting off the dirty snow below the M train, and through my window.My nightmares that night had come to me in the form of a vivid reality…

I was working on Quentin Dupieux’s most recently screened film, “Rubber,” in the desert; upon departure at the airport with the cast and crew, I asked the director for an interview. My request was politely declined, however in its stead, I was asked to accompany him on a bicycle ride. Before I could coordinate said bicycle ride or even make it to my plane, I was kidnapped by a taxi driver who convinced me I was to take his car to the terminal; instead he brought me to a train station, circa 1920. I became confused, and I woke myself up.

Moved by the vividness of the dream, I checked my Twitter feed for updates by @Oizo3000, hoping to discover a correlation. (I lucid-dream often) There was a screening Thursday of “Rubber,” which I had completely forgotten was coming out in Feb/March 2011. I quickly emailed the top three publicity groups he listed. Denied. Unanswered. Available. Win! I quickly fwd to all friends into blood, fake blood, or both [critic for Fangoria].

After the screening and Q&A, I had a brief encounter with the director. The publicity crew handed out tiny Rubber condoms, and I jammed my foot in the door leading to a room in which people were asking painfully uncreative questions; a roundtable interview. When I got home, I was so excited about my promised tête-à-tête interview with the director, that I made a few notes about the film on my phone before dozing off at 7 AM.

The voice of Robert, the tire, was heard in the non-action rather than action and violence [i.e. the blowing up of heads] towards those who did not impress on him in either a good or bad way. In a way Robert was doing away with what he saw as useless. It seemed like every one who gave in to their emotions during the film was in some way killed.

With hints of the tire smiting down all who are righteous or wrong in this tiny microcosm, including the 3-day killing spree which is much like a plague of exploding heads, this tire is crucified for becoming more human/irrational/emotional than his hunters (going on a killing spree after witnessing a mass burning of tires, and later being humiliated by his crush), and is resurrected as not only a stronger force, but also given the power to grant life to fellow tires and gather a following, much like a religious leader.

Mr. Dupieux’s editing techniques showed his audio-editing background and strengths. Conceptually: he cut up/sampled defining moments of American B-horror cinema, remixed them with an antagonistic tire, set them on repeat, and finally stacked the pattern in order to create a perfect Shakespearean drama.

The film smacks of nihilism, starting with the film’s first sentiment, “for no reason,” but in a much grander sense of metaphysical comedy. Soon, the viewer witnesses a change from nihilism to an inverse of post-modernist theory while maintaining such simplicity that I can imagine dead philosophers cringing in their pine boxes.

Rubber was poorly received at Cannes; however, several critics outside the director’s home country were sufficiently educated to grasp the wink and the nod to classicism as well a progressive modernism. Maybe it was the director’s non-deliberate jabs at High Art that really got them steamed, insisting, [insert French accent here] “No really, there was no reason behind it.”

Honestly, I can’t think of a better way to spend $1 million.

More on the subject: up soon on False Aristocracy.

Curious Wednesday is a weekly column written and driven by personality of Ms. Marquise discussing the insides of her head in relation to things around her. New topics can be found on the Bushwick Daily every Wednesday, while you can find her productions listed on False Aristocracy.