'Indulgent' is a funny word. What happens when a filmmaker becomes indulgent? By which we usually mean self-indulgent. This Must be the Place feels indulgent - is indulgent; but then again, aren’t all filmmakers, in their own way? Michael Haneke, you could say. Haneke doesn’t appear to indulge us - he scorns us, puts us through the mill. But doesn’t that too also indulge a certain masochistic delight? Watching a Haneke film (and I say this as an admirer) is the equivalent of taking the sticking plaster off slowly, slowly, slowly.

The genesis of This Must Be the Place has a dream-come-true-quality which perhaps influences the reception of the film. Sean Penn was heading the jury at Cannes which awarded Sorrentino’s Il Divo (2008) the Jury Prize, and asked to be involved in Sorrentino’s next project. With a major Hollywood player in place (not to mention one of the finest actors of his generation), and an opportunity to reach an enormous audience, why wouldn’t you decide to overegg the cake basket? Not just to make an American film, but to make a film about America, that tries to include all of America. In aiming for this, Sorrentino follows in the footsteps of other European directors such as Werner Herzog (I’m thinking particularly of Stroszek [1977]) and Wim Wenders, whose Paris, Texas (1984) sets about getting to the heart of America from a European perspective. Harry Dean Stanton also turns up in Sorrentino’s film, one of many self-conscious nods.

In Sorrentino’s film, there seems little urge to appease a wider audience. This isn’t a grab at commercial acceptance, or pandering. It is as visually stunning as Il Divo and as stylish as Consequences of Love (2004). The colours are gorgeous (there’s a blue rubber duck that is a particular highlight) and the camera is fluid and inventive. There are bravura shots which bring to mind Welles and his train set analogy, especially the musical set piece. In a review, Simon Miraudo compared watching the film as being akin to ‘watching someone sprint into the ocean with the firm belief that they can make it to the other side before running out of breath.’

There is a sense that he takes the world seriously even as it proves itself at times much more ridiculous than he is - for instance, in the school mistress who scolds him for dressing up, but keeps a goose called Emily. Of course, seriousness comes with his father’s death and even more so with the introduction of the Holocaust. This has perhaps caused the most consternation. The shift in tone from the whimsy of a superannuated Goth with a silly wheelie bag mooching around Dublin, to his involvement in the hunt for his father’s Nazi tormentor in Auschwitz, jars - or perhaps more accurately doesn’t jar enough. In fact, the tone barely changes at all. This is something that the film to some extent addresses: the changing status of the Holocaust in our collective consciousness.

Although by no means equivalent, the film explores another, similar tenacity in holding onto the past even as everyone else forgets it. Cheyenne will ultimately ‘move on’, it is true. He will relinquish his former identity and, with his father dead and business taken care of, will grow up and get his hair cut. The loose ends are not all taken care of and there are bumps in the road, but I enjoyed the ride.

This Alternate Take was published on April 22, 2012.