Themroc

As the Monty Python expression goes, “And now for something completely different!” Even by Radiance’s eclectic standards, their release of Claude Faraldo Themroc is in a category all its own. A stoop-shouldered satire of French working-class ennui, the film has all the crude charm of an SNL skit stuffed inside a farcical Maysles man-on-the-street documentary with not a single word of comprehensible dialogue ever spoken.

Caught up in the tedium of blue-collar industry, our main character (unnamed but we’ll go with Themroc) has a public restroom epiphany, embracing his primal urges, quitting his job and storming back to his apartment block whereupon he constructs an open-air “cave” in which to live out his dream of masculine simplicity.  Food, sleep and sex become the end-all-be-all of his existence, shacking up with his submissive sister/daughter (again, unclear) and any other female turned on by his primitive lifestyle.  The authorities assigned to squash this retro-revolution are ill-prepared for what they find,  tasked with fighting Themroc and the tide of popular opinion.

Yeah, it’s out there.  And Faraldo overburdens the narrative with a running time that stretches 109 minutes. But a film about an urban caveman requires a certain level of disbelief.  What’s amusing is watching star Michel Piccoli, hairy enough to pass for the genuine article, contrast Themroc’s prehistoric insurrection against the drudgery of blue-collar life. His “cave” is a crude one-room affair created by a sledgehammer with all vestiges of modern life jettisoned to the street below.  Men look up in envy while women find his dominance irresistible. He even “hunts” for his food, setting an urban trap to carry home unsuspecting police officers who are then roasted over an open fire.

Ridiculous?  Well, that’s sort of the point. But Themroc never really settles for a cheap laugh; perhaps because the alternative hits too close to home. There are flashes of previous and future satirical cinematic takedowns like Chaplin’s Modern Life and Terry Gilliam’s Brazil.  But the film creates a fantasy world that’s somehow more dangerous if only because we’re not always sure it’s joking.

With a 4K restoration that still retains a beautifully grainy, faded sheen, Radiance’s new Blu-ray limited edition makes for a great introduction.  New interviews and archival interviews shed some light on the creative process and Faraldo’s intentions, as does the supplied collector’s booklet with new writing by French film historian Alison Smith.