QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM VENICE

Lino (Kad Merad) looks like a tramp. A sweet and avuncular homeless person you’d love to hug. He is on a lonely road trip of France with no apparent purpose and destination. As he passes the majestic Mont Saint-Michel, he confides to a stranger that he’s a defrocked priest wanted by justice because he raped one of his followers. He snoozes inside a roadside antique shop, only to be told that the facilities are “not a hotel”. He then asks for a coffee, and the charming saleswoman retorts: “this is not a bistro”. He then tells her that he’s a porn director, and proceeds to buy a trumpet from her. She is surprised to find out that he can play the instrument beautifully. Next, he stops in a small farmhouse and befriends the owner. And he desperately tries to stop a woman from killing herself and her partner’s lover, to no avail.

In reality, Lino is a prestigious barrister. He suffers from a rare neurological condition called frontotemporal lobar degeneration, he claims. He has sudden spams and short bouts of insanity. And he’s unable to lie. He says the truth “without filters”, often to catastrophic results. For example: his wife insists that he shares his thoughts during a family dinner, only for him to reveal that he is not physically attracted to her (everyone. consequently loses their appetite). Lino’s road impersonations are in reality reenactments of the predicament of his clients: he once represented a priest, a pornographer, and a man accused of double murder. It’s never entirely clear how his road adventures (akin to multiple personality disorder) relate to his inability to lie. In fact, they seem to be at odds. How can you pretend to be someone else if you are unable to lie? The 129-minute film never addresses this incoherence.

Whatever the reason, the consequences for Lino’s actions are very dear. Literally. He spends hundreds of euros on psychotherapy for a stranger, a similar sum on the wind instrument, and a whopping €5,000 on a tractor for a farmer he only just met. For his family too there are difficult repercussions. His desperate wife sets out to find her missing spouse, and to bring her family back together. Lino commits a shocking crime, and immediately recruits his best friend in order to defend him in court. Or maybe he just imagined the whole thing. Finally wilfully – however confusingly – blends reality, allegory and hallucination. It’s all very messy, just like Lino’s state of mind. He acknowledges that “the fertility of chaos” mandates his existence.

Despite being billed as such, Finally is not a musical. That’s because the music numbers are neither consistent nor pervasive. They consist of Lelo occasionally playing the trumpet, and his daughter Barbara singing (played by Barbara Pravi, Eurovision’s adorable runner-up in 2021). And a woman briefly plays the piano. Lelo and Barbara perform together at the end of the film, and he even attempts a few notes with his voice. The duet is clunky. Father and daughter have very little chemistry, the lyrics are banal, and the tunes are not particularly catchy. I doubt that the famous singer will proudly add the movie’s soundtrack (signed by Ibrahim Maalouf) to her discography.

Finally has just premiered in the 81st edition of the Venice International Film Festival, where it’s showing out of competition. The 86-year-old French director received the Cartier Glory to the Filmmaker Award for a career spanning more than six decades, and including the double-Oscar winner A Man and a Woman (1966).