Sometimes a film is just too much film. Take Wilhelm and Anka Sasnal’s The Assistant. It is at once an experiment in form, a period drama, a literary adaptation of Swiss modernist writer Robert Wassler’s autobiographical novel, a criticism of capitalism and an experimental arthouse movie with touches of 1970s’ loucheness.
The film tells the story of a young man Joseph Marti (Piotr Trojan), who leaves his job as a book binder, following mistreatment, and is sent by an employment agency. He finds a new job as the assistant to Karl Tobler (Andrzej Konopka), an engineer and inventor who lives in a large villa with his beautiful wife (Agnieszka Zulewska) and neglected child. The inventor has apparently been a success and Joseph is literally starving and willing to commit.
Sasnal’s camera zooms in on Joseph in a series of jerky intrusions, literally getting up and into his face, to a discomfiting extent. The light flares into the film and various anachronisms battle with the period detail. Joseph walks down a normal street with cars driving by in his turn of the century suit of clothes; Mrs Tobler alights from a present day regional train in her fin de siecle dress. The postman is played by a woman wearing an unconvincing moustache. Music plays throughout, in a constant stream of electronic dance and songs and atmospheric pieces. Characters break into dance and for one protracted scene do so in an apparent trance in the nude, in what looks like one of the less ecstatic of raves. But the collective result of all of these effects becomes numbing after a while, if not outright confusing. Is it Brechtian alienation, or gender fluidity?
The anachronistic details make the obvious point that the economic exploitation which Joseph suffers from is not restricted to any one period. The economic analysis however seems blunted by the unreality of the situation. Joseph has replaced a former clerk and soon realizes that he is getting food and lodging but little else. He witnesses the coldness of his mistress towards her child and the engineer’s thuggery. Tobler’s inventions as well appear to be remarkably uninspired: an “advertising clock,” which is basically a clock where you can write the names of businesses to be displayed in public places. A tin opener is patented in a burst of excitement, though it seems odd that a tin opener would be invented so long after tins.
But perhaps this is missing the point. What the film lacks in incisiveness, it compensates in verve. The inventor might not be particularly inspired but the inventiveness of the filmmakers never flags. There’s a certain punkishness I’ve not felt since I first watched Derek Jarman and Alex Cox. The three leads throw themselves into their roles with suitable gusto and much of the humour comes out of their performances. Throughout there’s also a stringent wit and playfulness, but the giddiness can become wearing and, like everything in the world except liquorice string, it could be shorter.
The Assistant just premiered in the 55th edition of the International Film Festival Rotterdam. The UK premiere takes place at the 69th BFI London Film Festival.
