Flux Gourmet Review
9/10
The art world is an inherently absurd place. No matter what ridiculous ideas you come up with to poke fun at them, that jab will soon be countered with an even more bizarre artistic flourish. At this point, it is almost futile to make fun of artists. Even though there is a lot of art that I would deem pretentious wankery, at least they’re creating. Some may approach creating their work with cynicism, knowing it is strange for the sake of it, purely to cultivate profit. The ones who leap into the deep end of creativity, emerging with an alien creature with four heads that they then smear in gravy and proclaim as art are the people whose outlandish ideas I respect.
Because there is sincerity to what they do that I find simultaneously commendable and utterly baffling. Of course, sincerity is up to interpretation. Even the most seemingly pompous piece of art could have been made with love and care. What is and isn’t beautiful will always be subjective. There are plenty of artists whose work I can’t stand, yet they have fans for a reason. Perhaps the work resonates with you on an emotional level, or you just admire the aesthetics. There are people who perceive deep significance in minimalist paintings that to me are dull and lifeless.
Flux Gourmet puts a spotlight on a group of specific creators whose work will alienate and puzzle much of the public, myself included. A performance art collective, Billy (Asa Butterfield), Lamina (Ariana Labed), and their leader Elle (Fatma Mohamed) have a residency at a “Sonic Catering” institution. What is Sonic Catering you may ask? Well, it is a special kind of performance art involving cooking and electronic noises. These three are at the institute to perfect their craft and put on a series of shows, all whilst being documented by a self-proclaimed hack writer, Stones (Makis Papadimitriou). They are all under the watchful eye of Jan Stevens, (Gwendoline Christie).
This is easily the strangest film I have seen this year. The director, Peter Strickland, has become one of my current favorites. There is nobody else around who makes such beguiling films as he does. I remember first finding out about him at AFI Fest in Los Angeles when there was a screening of The Duke of Burgundy, a dark comedy about a lesbian BDSM couple and the slow unraveling of their relationship. What separates him from many other arthouse directors is how he grounds his stories in relatable emotions. No matter how strange and surreal his films get, they never feel cold and disconnected.
That is a tactic that I have seen numerous times from other filmmakers trying to be artsy. This emotional disconnect can be effective if utilized correctly; but too often it is a narrative crutch because the filmmaker doesn’t know how to connect with their characters and feel the need to distance themselves from them, perhaps to gain a wider perspective of the grand scope of the world beyond them. Strickland can delve into twisted and uncomfortable areas, yet when you immerse yourself in these heightened realities without question, you will find them bewitching and engrossing. Many will feel the exact opposite and I understand that.
Flux Gourmet is not going to win over anybody who isn’t already interested in his style. It may be his most unusual film yet. Despite the eccentric and odd behaviors on display, there is an earnestness to them that makes these characters feel like real people. The film certainly is aware of how wacky their art is. The performances they put out are the kind of shows I would go out of my way to avoid in real life. At first, those feelings were amplified by the film showing us the ways they make distorted music using cooking techniques and electronic noises. Yet, as I saw more of their art and how much they loved what they do, I started to believe in what they were doing. Not to the point where I would indulge in seeing a Sonic Catering showcase, but enough where I was rooting for them to find their footing.
The film comments on the haphazard relationship between the artist and those who fund them. The director of the institute, Jan Stevens, is passionate about supporting their work and wants to help them grow. This starts to become unbalanced when she wants more creative input. The collective’s leader Elle is narcissistic and controlling. She talks openly to Stones about not needing the others and how nothing would change if they left. Billy and Lamina’s roles are that of a backing band for Elle. She dominates the performances and the dynamic in the group. She is overbearing and occasionally insufferable. Both she and Jan Stevens become dueling antagonists to Lamina and Billy. They compromise the integrity of the collective by making everything about themselves. Billy and Lamina admire Elle and need her to be the driving force of the art, but the growing tensions in the group are causing the collective to fall apart at the seams.
The Stones character becomes more involved in their work as he follows their exploits. He is suffering from gastrointestinal issues and has continuous voiceover dialogue about flatulence. He is visibly suffering and struggles to hide his pain from others. Elle, of course, sees his problems and begins to incorporate them into the art. This makes him uncomfortable initially, yet he still goes along with it. He is out of place in this artistic community. He feels like he does not belong there, and when Lamina asks sincerely about this feeling, he can’t help putting himself down. Nevertheless, even though he is apprehensive about cooperating with the collective’s work, it also helps to give him a sense of belonging.
Any group of people getting together to create something they love is a minor miracle. There are countless ways for a community to fall apart if those at the heart of it don’t know how to get along for the sake of the vision. Elle may be an egomaniac who makes everything difficult for those around her, but she is not a monster. She loves what she does and will fight to the death to protect her sense of integrity and artistic freedom. She refuses to compromise and listen to Jan Stevens. That may partially be why her work is so distinct and unique. She enrages and antagonizes everybody, but her work speaks for itself. Would she still be the same person if she was a bit more reasonable?
Flux Gourmet never pokes fun at these people, no matter how surreal the film gets. That to me is the key to why it works so well. It takes them and their work seriously. It invites us to laugh and be confused by the unusual performance art, but it approaches the people in the collective with refreshing earnestness. You may not like who they are. You may find their art unpleasant and horrible. Hell, you may even be tempted to turn off the film halfway through. However, I invite you to stand back from those trepidations and embrace the film’s absurd and wonderful world.
