A foreign film to alienate practically everyone. It concerns a French-Canadian lad of twelve who's convinced that his real father is not the sluglike drudge at the head of the household, obsessed with bowel movements and "regularity," but rather an anonymous Sicilian who had spilled his seed, or rather purposely squirted his seed, on a crate of tomatoes marked for export. Never mind how the anointed tomato is supposed to have got between the mother's legs: seeing will not be believing. The narrative goes back and forth in time, in and out of fantasy, with no detectable variation in degree of reality, no order, no shape, no pace, no propulsion, and (what's worst) no sense of an end anywhere in sight. The main interest is in trying to decide on the low point. Is it perhaps the masturbation with a piece of raw liver? Is it the bit of bestiality with a de-clawed and strapped-down cat? Is it the attempted murder of Grandpa by dropping a noose over his head from a skylight above the bathtub and hoisting up the body (that of veteran French actor Julien Guiomar, his private parts concealed with a fig leaf of soap suds) by pulley and counterweight? There's a lot to choose from. Written and directed by Jean-Claude Lauzon. (1993) — Duncan Shepherd
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