Dog Bites Barbarian or; the Conann Review

It was Day 3 of Fantastic Fest, and once again, your trusted reviewer found himself in the throes of swamp ass. If there’s one downside to the festival, it’s probably the blistering heat still overtaking Texas in late September. As I shuffled in place and fanned myself with my little badge, I ran into some other Hyperreal peeps, who, wouldn’t you know, were also going to see this mysterious movie I had been hearing about called Conann. Outside of overthinking the pronunciation of the title—it’s a reimagining of Arnold Schwarnegger’s famous roided out barbarian—I had no idea what was in store for this watch.

As I made myself comfortable once again in one of Alamo’s theaters, I quickly learned that Conann director and writer, Bertrand Mandico, has a reputation. What made it ultra clear was the programmer’s three-question quiz for the Mandico fans in the room. I’d never heard of Mandico or his work before, but after an initial watch of Conann, it’s safe to say Mandico is a big proponent of capital “S” style!

A centuries spanning tale, Mandico’s story focuses on the life of the lady whose name is the title: Conann. Like Taylor Swift, Conann has a lot of eras. From wispy old woman (played by Francoise Brion) to bloodied 15-year-old slave (Claire Duburcq), Conann is a character who shifts to fit (or break out from) the time periods she struts through. Played by five different actors of various ages and looks, Conann’s coming-of-age tale has an added bit of artistic flourish.

A lot of bat-shit craziness propels this film. One moment we’re hanging out with barbarians drenched in stark black and white cinematography as they split people in half and then another moment will have us hanging with some boho New Yorkers who also happen to be immortal stunt people. That’s not even touching on a scene near the end where the film plays violent homage to Peter Greenway’s The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover. Supported by extravagant studio sets that range from watery underworlds to blown-apart battlefields, Conann views the process of life and growth as a ritual that’s beautiful and chaotic. While she spends the bulk of time grappling with her shifting views and attitudes throughout time, Conann is always armed with a vicious confidence that started in her barbaric youthful years.

Each actor stepping into Conann’s shoes gets the challenge of adding their own flair to a character already portrayed by someone else. They all succeed at making their respective eras standout, but Agata Buzek, who plays Conann as a 45-years-old violent warlord, and Sandra Parfait, portraying the character at 35 living it up in 1993 New York, stand out among the pack. But the main draw of performances here is Elina Lowensohn’s scene-stealing Rainer, a macabre Dog-Man hybrid serving as Conann’s all-powerful and all-knowing Jiminy Cricket. Mandico seemed to have a blast writing for Rainer, as this character gets all the film’s best shots at humor and romantic musings. Lowensohn absolutely bites into the lines given to her, creating a funny and untrustworthy companion to Conann.

Conann is a visual feast to look at. Mandico and their production team create a world that brings stage theatricality and surrealness to an unusual coming-of-age story. Where other movies would be content to show their growing character face the tribulations of maturity with a more humanistic take, Conann plasters the emotions of these moments in its visuals. In some moments, the film takes on a soft Technicolor look filled with glitter that’s offset by grotesque characters (like Ranier) populating the screen. Other times, Mandico’s film embraces the shadows of black and white cinematography to capture frozen plains filled with barbarians, blown-apart warzones, and the grimy New York streets populated by neverending barrels that are also on fire. Don’t worry though, there’s still glitter to be found even in these monochromatic sequences! It’s overexaggerated, but Mandico knows how to use over-the-top imagery to mesh with the atmosphere he’s created.

As with any super stylistic movie, Conann’s plot doesn’t always feel as fleshed out as its visuals. Mandico moves the story along to each era efficiently enough, but not every stage in Conann’s life is interesting. The script also tends to get bogged down by flowery musings on life, love, and barbarity. Although some gems can be found in the dialogue—especially when delivered with gusto by Ranier—the characters’ musings can quickly turn to ramblings that feel like they’re looking to fill time. Still, these moments are few and far between—and at least they’re surrounded by stunning imagery.

Conann might not end up as my favorite movie of Fantastic Fest, but it’s the perfect fit for the “anything goes” programming supported by the festival. The most interesting pieces of art capture your attention and stick in your mind long after you’ve seen them. With lush visuals, a “fuck it, why not?” energy, and dripped out friend/lover/enemy side characters, Conann is a movie that will be fun to interact with once and many times over. One of the more impeccably visualized movies in recent memory, Bertrand Mandico’s film will at least make for a great “fill the room with cool vibes” background movie you can put on for years to come. Also, feel free to quote me on it: next Halloween you’re going to see a lot of people dressed up as everyone’s favorite leather-jacket-clad Man-Dog Rainier.