The Agitator: Three Provocations from the Wild World of Jean-Pierre Mocky (1982-1987)(Review)

Say “Jean-Pierre Mocky” to even the most avid of French film fans on this side of the channel and you’re likely to receive little more than a shrug, but the iconoclastic writer/director/actor/cinema owner was a cult figure in his homeland, winning praise from no less than Jean-Luc Godard over a career spanning fifty years, and some seventy films. Radiance’s new boxset, The Agitator: Three Provocations from the Wild World of Jean-Pierre Mocky, spotlights three features that showcase his unique sensibilities in all their newly-restored glory.

Chronologically, the “first” in the set is Litan – a surreal horror that demonstrates Mocky’s love of the fantastique. While it shares Jean Rollin’s dreamy narrative logic and deliberately stilted performances, it’s defiantly its own beast – a disturbing tale of a couple in the titular village who try to flee after the woman dreams her partner’s gruesome death. So far, so simple, but Mocky stubbornly refuses to rush his audience towards any sort of resolution (even at a brisk eighty-seven minutes), and instead sends us down multiple rabbit holes in search of subplots – including a doctor implanting souls into catatonic patients, and a corpulent police inspector determined to catch our couple because he’s pissed off. You’d expect these diversions to be frustrating, but far from it, as Mocky captures the scope of living in the fog shrouded Litan – a place where the hospital’s psychiatric ward is permanently overflowing, and men stand on every corner wearing disturbing masks.

Nino Ferrer’s music can feel repetitive but Litan’s weirdness is spellbinding enough to let that concern slip away. Ex-Welles and Buñuel cinematographer Edmond Richard gives the village a mystic feel that’s perfectly incongruous with the present day story, but what is the fantastique if not completely out of place with the modern world?  

Kill The Referee finds Mocky trading horror for thriller in a grimly funny tale of football hooligans hunting down a referee after his decision boots them out of the European Cup, Radiance clearly timing their release for this year’s UEFA European Championship. The head of this group is the vile Rico, who’s clearly using football as an outlet for his most gratuitous impulses, and more than once do we see him assault a female football fan – yet it’s a credit to Michel Serrault’s tremendous performance that such a hateful figure never feels off-putting. He perfectly captures the pathetic vulnerability under Rico’s macho charade, making the shocking ending feel more tragic than the abrupt switch in tone it appears to be.

Mocky’s love of multiple character perspectives hampers the propulsive thrust of Kill The Referee – especially when we’re stuck with the boringly bourgeoise match official and his girlfriend fighting off the hooligans in their swanky tower block. When it switches to Serrault and his working-class crew, it’s alive with a caustic class commentary that makes this an older Gallic cousin to Clarke’s The Firm, and it’s smirkingly funny stuff.

The set’s finale, Agent Trouble, is the most accomplished of the boxset – thanks in no small part to regular Godard collaborator William Lubtchansky behind the camera, and Catherine Deneuve in front. What starts as the story of an animal-obsessed petty thief with an incestuous attraction to his aunt she’s a little too happy to indulge soon turns into knotty little Hitchcockian thriller about government-organised murders, chemical testing and coach tours. As a museum curator with a curly wig and granny glasses Deneuve joyously plays against type, but it’s Richard Bohringer that steals the show as an antiquarian-cum-assassin who pursues her through the French Alps. He’s a Phillip Vandamm for the ’80s – effortlessly suave and jolly to boot, as he attempts to stop Deneuve from unravelling the cover-up he’s tasked with keeping in motion. Mocky’s playful tone keeps the paranoia of Malcolm Bosse’s original novel to a minimum with eccentric touches like a gunfight set in a shop selling novelty breasts, and a wildly superfluous (but incredibly funny), turn by Dominique Lavanant as a nouveau-riche holidaymaker with men on the brain. That he’s able to pack all of this in just under ninety minutes is a minor miracle, and makes Agent Trouble all the more entertaining. 

Radiance’s release features 4K remasters of all three films, with Agent Trouble in particularly gorgeous condition, and each disk is supplemented by archival extras – including a making-of documentary for Litan and interviews with cast members. Finally, the boxset is completed by an 80 page book mixing new appraisals with translated texts by such luminaries as Oliver Assayas. If you’ve seen all the Chabrol and Truffaut you can handle and you like your French cinema très quirky, this boxset should be a purchase priority.

Ethan’s Archive – The Agitator: Jean-Pierre Mocky