SYNOPSIS
First it was a mine that exploded in the middle of the Moroccan desert. Years later, it was a stray bullet that lodged in his brain... Bazil doesn't have much luck with weapons. The first made him an orphan, the second holds him on the brink of sudden, instant death. Released from the hospital after his accident, Bazil is homeless. Luckily, our inspired and gentle-natured dreamer is quickly taken in by a motley crew of junkyard dealers living in a veritable Ali Baba's cave. The group's talents and aspirations are as surprising as they are diverse: Remington, Calculator, Buster, Slammer, Elastic Girl, Tiny Pete and Mama Chow. Then one day, walking by two huge buildings, Bazil recognizes the logos of the weapons manufacturers that caused all of his misfortune. He sets out to take revenge, with the help of his faithful gang of wacky friends. Underdogs battling heartless industrial giants, our gang relive the battle of David and Goliath, with all the imagination and fantasy of Buster Keaton...
REVIEW
Throughout his entire career, filmmaker Jean-Pierre Jeunet has been compared to Terry Gilliam, as both men share a love for the absurd and the angular, while nursing an obsession for extravagant details. With the farce MICMACS, Jeunet surpasses Gilliam in both design and execution achievements, staging a ripping tale of revenge and oddball relations in a markedly French manner, shaping one of the year’s funniest imports, further cementing his reputation as a maestro of unconventional entertainment. Enlivened by a vivid, gifted cast (Boon’s a charming lead, but Ferrier steals the film), MICMACS heads to many peculiar areas of conflict, supported by a stupendous technical effort from the crew. Yet, as bizarre as the feature is, it retains a heart, demonstrated wonderfully in the final act, as the gang makes one last impression on their trembling targets. Comfortably zany and always striking, MICMACS elevates Jeunet to a solid plateau of idiosyncrasy and proves he’s a director with an ability to control his impulses. efilmcritic
