QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM VENICE

A powerful attorney general panics. The young man with whom she was having sex in a U$10,ooo penthouse inside a luxury New York hotel has overdosed and died upon hitting his head on a glass. She calls a mysterious an unnamed “fixer” (a handyman for dodgy and criminal affairs), whom a friend had recommended. The very haughty man (George Clooney) promptly arrives at the site in order to help her to conceal their body. To their surprise, the hotel manager had followed the entire ordeal via a concealed camera, and called another fixer of her preference, an even more arrogant man (played by Brad Pitt).

These bizarre fixers act entirely on their own, like lone wolves. At first, they refuse to cooperate with one another. They are persuaded to join forces following threats of legal action coming from above. Clooney’s character promptly cleans the flat and wraps the body in a tarpaulin, while his hesitant buddy mocks his skills and knowledge while comfortable seated on a chair, feet in the air. They haggle over the most appropriate approach for disposing of the body, while finally agreeing to lay it in the back of the vehicle parked in the garage. They also speculate about the countless conspiracies that could have brought them together, and the potential consequences of their deeds. Their interaction consists most of catty exchanges and snide comments, in a humour reminiscent of Marvel Cinematic Universe (where the director Jon Watts is well versed).

The two man have more in common than they anticipated. And it isn’t their macho attitude and their conceit. They have common connections that they never anticipate. They begin to suspect that the whole ordeal may have been concocted by Albanian mobsters with a very dangerous agenda. Or maybe they were framed. A mysterious “doctor” in Chinatown is confident that she can help them dispose of the body, but it turns out that the victim may not be dead after all. What kind of fixer is it who hadn’t even check pulse of the victim? They accuse each of incompetence, unable to find real answers as to what happened, or to find a way out of this “clusterfuck” of events.

The intrigue gets increasingly confusing, but this isn’t necessarily a script issue. The developments are intentionally absurd, and the conspiracy theories completely wild. The narrative arc relies on the rivalry between the two men gradually morphing into complicity. The entire story takes place in a snowy winter night, with the neon lights of the City that Never Sleeps providing the players with a dazzling fighting arena. Countless shots and car chases follow, as the men pursue the person who could help them to locate the drugs and also a pager containing some crucial information. These two McGuffins are essential ingredients in this action-comedy gumbo, a bizarre dish with enough flavours to please fans of the genre, and the countless admirers of the two Hollywood superstars.

Wolfs just premiered in the 81st Venice International Film Festival, where it’s sowing out of competition. Silly, uncompromising fun