Remo Manfredini (Nahuel Pérez Biscayart) is very profitable horse jockey somewhere in Argentina. He is supported by a gang of criminals, and has a doting partner called Abril (Úrsula Corberó), who has been pregnant with his child for a seemingly long period of time. The problem is that he requires a cocktail of drugs in order to perform. He blends horse medication with alcohol and heavy tobacco smoke in one glass before entering the next race. One day he ends up flat on the floor as his newly acquired Japanese horse Mishima sets off.

The director of filthy genius real-life gay serial killer drama The Angel (2018) moves away from vaguely realistic action into entirely wacky territory. Kill The Jockey is a comedy with elements of deadpan, slapstick and surrealism. Our protagonist repeatedly falls, and at one stage he can literally walk on the walls and across the ceiling. What both films have in common is the absurdist tone, and the unwavering belief that masculinity is frail and fallible. Remo and Carlitos (The Angel‘s lead) are morally reprehensible and yet irresistible. And both movies boast an eclectic soundtracks blending electronic tunes, South American folk classics and some creepy God-knows-what. A couple of bizarre dance numbers set the tone early on: this is a movie intended to be appreciated and depreciated in equal measure – and not necessarily comprehended.

One day, Remo crashes his horse and ends up in hospital with his head stuck in a large cast wrapped in gauze, a morbid headpiece vaguely reminiscent of Amy Winehouse’s beehive. Doctors tell a perplexed Abril that he may never wake up, and in case he does he’s likely to have major neurological damage. What happens next defies medical and moral logic. Our rogue hero embarks on a gender-bending erratic mission to reclaim his career, his pride and his family. Meanwhile, Remo’s criminal associates are hellbent on making it even with the barely recognisable, iconic horse jockey from yore.

Despite a hypnotic performance by deliciously insane and deviant Biscayart, a few good tunes and dance acts, Kill The Jockey isn’t a masterpiece. It never reaches the same heights as its 2018 predecessor. The lack of narrative coherence whiffs of David Lynch, while the absurdist deadpan may recall Wes Anderson, in a movie clearly designed to impress cinephiles. Sadly, the bits and bobs just don’t gel together. A little queer, a little beastly, a little groovy, a little murderous, a little funny – Kill the Jockey is just too ambitious for its own sake. Ultimately, it doesn’t have anything relevant to say. A little killjoy.

Kill the Jockey premiered in the Official Competition of the 81st Venice International Film Festival. It won the Horizons Prize in the 72nd San Sebastian International Film Festival.