QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM SAN SEBASTIAN
The time is the 1980s. Jose de Zer (Leonardo Sbaraglia) works as journalist for the local television channel. He is convinced that viewers are depressed and bored with the tragic news that they constantly consume. So he suggests that they give these people the news that they want instead. Something that will lift their spirits and mood, and consequently also the television ratings. Jose’s intentions are mostly noble, even if his commitment to veracity isn’t particularly strong. He’s prepared to make the stories up. His bosses are hesitant to support him. Unable to decide whether Jose is “a genius or an idiot”, they finally grant him with the benefit of doubt, the supporting crew and the financial means.
Inspired by a UFO sighting (more likely a desert hallucination) years earlier when he was working in the Sinai peninsula, Jose decides to fake similar events on Argentinian soil. A large parched grass circle on the mountains of La Candelaria, in the central province of Cordoba, provides the perfect backdrop to his “investigative” reports. His antics include encouraging locals to give false testimonies, devising his own cave paintings, dying the hair of a child white, and so on. He is not entirely successful in his endeavours: his daughter tells Jose that her schoolmates call him a “charlatan”. But surely there must be a trick up his sleeve that will draw unequivocal awe and admiration from eager television spectators.
Jose’s plans begin to spiral out of control once his frivolous concoctions become too real for him to handle. This is a very familiar device, widely used in paranormal investigator dramas. What was once thought to be impossible and absurd may be real after all. A freak accident sends Jose into a delirious state, with severe repercussions for everyone around him. Reality, imagination, television, delusion and allegory blend seamlessly, just as the director and co-writer peels off the many narrative layers.
Sbaraglia has the perfect Leslie Nielsen looks, with snow-white hair and a vaguely swivel-eyed gaze. Yet this isn’t Naked Gun. Instead of slapstick, Diego Lerman opts for a far more subtle and puerile sense of humour. A baby goat annoyingly bleats during the shooting, dye runs down the neck of the actor, cave drawings look suspiciously well preserved, and a torch sets fire to the entire set. The outcome is sweet, charming and heartwarming. It just isn’t funny at all. The Man Who Loved UFOs might put a little smile on your face, however it will neither rivet nor make you laugh out loud. This is a movie torn between its reflective and its comedic ambitions, ultimately failing to reach either in its integrity.
This is an aesthetically hybrid endeavour. Images of the broadcast are showcased with a vintage texture, as if taken straight out of a real television show from the 1980s. The “real” images are plush and vibrant, with colourful backgrounds and costumes. A fisheye lens is used in much of the story, even in the internal sequences and medium shots. The outcome are images distorted around the edges, presumably mirroring Jose’s twisted state-of-mind. Cute, if not particularly revolutionary. The ending is highly predictable: you can see it coming from a thousand miles, and much clearer than any UFO ever captured on film.
The Man Who Loved UFOs is a fairly standard Netflix production, It just premiered in the Official Competition of the 72nd San Sebastian International Film Festival.
