Quentin Dupieux’s Deerskin ‘Le daim’ is screening at the BFI London Film Festival and is awaiting a UK-wide release date.
Quentin Dupieux’s Deerskin is a killer black comedy that lampoons the filmmaking process and features a Deerskin jacket, psychosis, and a rural snuff movie. Anyone familiar with Dupieux and his work should not be entirely surprised by these key themes; after all, this is the director who brought us Rubber, the story of a homicidal car tyre, Flat Eric, and the surreal comedy Wrong. But Deerskin feels more refined in its comedic qualities, with its deadpan delivery and comic-book horror creating a truly hilarious slice of cinema.
Deerskin opens with George (Jean Dujardin), leaving his old life behind him as he gleefully dispenses with his current coat down a service station toilet before meeting with an older man selling a vintage Deerskin jacket. George is besotted by the hideous Western-style garment, handing over considerable amounts of money to purchase the jacket, and as he swaggers out of the home, George is a man finally complete. But he is also clearly on the run from something as he takes up residence in a rundown hotel on the outskirts of a small town.
As George and his jacket settle into town life, George pretends to be an up-and-coming filmmaker, coaxing a young barmaid and aspiring editor, Denise (Adèle Haenel), into his imaginary world. However, George’s relationship with his jacket is becoming increasingly sinister as he begins to converse with it at night, and it’s not long before they have come to an agreement: George and his Jacket will rid the world of all other inferior coats. If The Lord of the Rings had one ring, Dupieux has one jacket to rule them all. From here on in, Deerskin descends into a darkly delicious horror-comedy as the jacket consumes George while the town becomes part of a sinister amateur filmmaking process.
Much of Deerskin’s joy comes from the deadpan delivery of the madness playing out on screen. Jean Dujardin’s George is always gloriously serious and utterly convinced by his own actions, while Adèle Haenel’s barmaid plays along with his pathological lying and delusions. The film playfully bounces from laugh-out-loud comedy to slasher horror while parodying the filmmaking process. Deerskin’s brisk 77-minute run time perfectly matches its chaotic story of one man, one camera, and a demonic deerskin jacket.
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