REVIEW - KEYHOLE

Guy Maddin's most outwardly conventional film in some time, Keyhole is, at first, a straightforward story, disturbed by aggressively experimental filmmaking, then, at times, inspiringly experimental filmmaking disturbed by the requirements of fulfilling narrative demands previously established, and, finally, a combination of both style and story that is simpler than one might initially expect, although also thinner. Maddin's seemingly limitless repertoire of techniques of obscuration is put to extensive use here - for the first half hour, this leaves the viewer struggling to find their bearings, but, as a sensorial representation of what's on the screen, it's pitched perfectly. Sounds and images drift by; whether lingered upon or breezed over, they lodge themselves in the memory, just beyond the mind's reach. Cumulatively, they create a densely textured impression of fully realised non-reality. But, just as you think you're beginning to understand what he's constructing, Maddin turns the page and stars painting in broad strokes: blunt, bolshy dialogue, staple characters, the banality of the cops-and-gangsters scenario. He refuses to conform to even his own stylistic notions, and this, in collaboration with his marked candour, is how he forms such a unique and personal style. Perhaps, as I felt, he's occasionally too forceful with specific elements of this style, and they jut out of the composition, momentarily threatening to discredit all Maddin's other efforts. Or, perhaps this was the intention. To watch any one of Guy Maddin's films is to watch a pure, vivid depiction of the thoughts and concepts of one man's mind, displayed on screen in utter clarity (with their trademark lack thereof!). It's difficult to imagine that anything in Keyhole is not precisely as he intended it to be.