Had long wanted to see Karusmäki's only English language film, starring the quintessential Frenchman, Jean-Pierre Léaud, who's as fabulous as ever.
Delighted to see it was dedicated to Michael Powell and from the red credits through Margi Clarke's red lips and roses you get that Powell red thing running throughout. In mood though, it reminded me more of Powell's better 'quota quickies' of the thirties in its brevity and wacky plot. Léaud puts out a hit on himself then changes his mind when he meets Clarke. Love the way he leaves a note for his assassin to say he's in the pub opposite! Meanwhile the killer, Ken Colley, isn't feeling very well...
Colley is not only still alive but features in upcoming Dan Hawk Psychic Detective. And he was in Peaky Blinders (briefly). He was a favourite of Ken Russell.
Short quirky scenes and deadpan humour conspire beautifully together in a run-down looking London.
Off thing though is Clarke's delivery of lines, almost like English isn't her first language. (It isn't of course - it's Liverpudlian!)
Photographed by Timo Salminen. Good sound, too, from Timo Linnasalo.
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