Film Review - Deerskin (2019)

It’s straight out of the 60s, a deerskin jacket with long fringes and at least one size too small for the portly Georges (Jean Dujardin). Not the most likely object of obsession but for him it’s the one thing he’s ever wanted. It has, to use his own words, “killer style”, even though we see something entirely different.

As Georges’ story moves forward in Deerskin, his beloved purchase is ed by boots, tros, a flamboyant hat and gloves, all made from the same leather and all bolstering the image he has for himself, even if we – and, indeed, everybody else – sees the total opposite. He’s left his wife, his life and sense of reality are askew and, arriving in a mountain village, he poses as a film maker, acquiring a willing assistant in Denise (Portrait Of A Lady On Fire’s Adele Haenel) who, away from working in the local bar, is a an aspiring film editor. What she doesn’t know is that he has another dream – to be the only person in the world allowed to wear a jacket. And anybody refusing to surrender theirs gets short shrift – courtesy of sharpened ceiling fan blade.

Strange, weird, warped. Deerskin is all that, an almost unhinged portrait of a midlife crisis with an almost unrecognisable Dujardin: gone is the elegance of The Artist, to be replaced by a paunch, untidy hair and a beard. Yet he brings a conviction to the role that intensifies an already dark comedy, one with more than a touch of Ben Wheatley with its balance of humour and cartoonish violence. Haenel takes a deadpan approach to her role as the aspiring film maker drawn into his bonkers mission. She hardly ever cracks a smile, but the sense that she’s not as gullible as she appears is never far away.

In truth, the story itself is of little consequence and sometimes hard to buy into, yet director Quentin Dupieux still manages to hold on to our attention for says a lot for his film making and the bleak humour he draws out of a progressively twisted narrative. Laughing at Dujardin’s conversations with that fringed jacket can feel uncomfortable, but the bubble of a giggle is never far from the surface.

There’s a downside, though, and one that becomes increasingly apparent as the film unfolds. An irritating feeling that Dupieux is playing with the audience, relishing watching our confusion and perhaps even indulging in a little showing off. His oddity of a film is already an uncomfortable watch and that suspicion doesn’t just add to it, but betrays a touch of arrogance.