Review of Cul-de-sac (1966) by Andrey B — 12 Aug 2017

Roman Polanski's buzzed-up crime comedy opens on a hooty tooty British coastal town, populated by frolicking man-children and slapstick stereotypes.

The first half feels like a live action Looney Tunes skit starring your four least favourite characters, all of whom are hell-bent on reciting the same joke for an hour and a half. Fortunately, the film soon takes a dark turn, followed by a drunken turn, and finally a psychological turn, allowing us all to rejoice that this dopey drama has stopped spinning in circles and started to deliver something worth our attention.

Flat visual gags devoid of all subtly are cast aside, and we finally feel as if Polanski has a purpose here besides desperately drawing our attention to how awfully cooky his characters are.

In fact, the film's absurdist aesthetic begins to flow naturally once Polanski's oh-so-hapless home invader (Lionel Stanley) is given directorial permission to develop a real relationship with Cul-de-Sac's lead players and castle-owners (Donald Pleasence and Francoise Dorleac). This relationship straddles Stockholm syndrome, reverse Stockholm syndrome and everything in between, descending into a psychological power game destined to end in gorgeous destruction and decay.

The question is as follows: is watching these nincompoops burn the best aspect of the film? If so, be prepared for a long wait.