Delightfully weird with a singular aesthetic — Jean-louis Roy’s pop art cold war farce has been largely forgotten following its 1967 debut. Fortunately it has been restored and released on blu-ray via Deaf Crocodile so that a new audience has the chance to rediscover this Swiss curiosity that exists somewhere alongside Dr. Strangelove and Godard’s Alphaville.
The central conceit of The Unknown Man of Shandigor is relatively simple and fails to convey the depths of strangeness that it delivers in just over 90 minutes. A renowned physicist — Herbert Von Krantz — develops a technology that can render nuclear weapons inert. Rather than share this discovery with the world — Von Krantz isolates himself in his secluded home/laboratory with his daughter and loyal assistant. As a result various factions of international spies descend on the Von Krantz home in an attempt to steal the formula for “The Canceler.” How this narrative plays out is actually quite abstract and is almost more of a series of vignettes further underscored by title cards that appear when new chapters begin.
Herbert Von Krantz is played by Daniel Emilfork — best known to many for his similar role in Jean-Perre Jeunet’s The City of Lost Children. Though Von Krantz’ discovery is of a seemingly benevolent nature — he is a paranoid egomaniac in classic mad scientist mode. His daughter Sylvainne is played by Marie-France Boyer who dreams of her lover Manuel — the titular unknown man played by American Ben Carruthers — when she isn’t being verbally berated by her father. Marcel Imhoff plays Von Krantz’ long-suffering assistant Yvann who seems to attract abuse from everyone he encounters. The initial espionage factions introduced are the French, the Russians, and the Americans. The Russians are a team of trenchcoated spies led by the maniacal, monocled Shoskatovich — Jacques Dufilho. The head American is a former Nazi-turned-agent Bobby Gunn — the Americans are featured in several firearm heavy scenes — played by Howard Vernon who has connections to Alphaville, Jeunet, and several science-gone-mad narratives himself. The most instantly recognizable faction are the French — a troupe of black clad, totally bald agents called the “bald heads” or the “bald ones.” The leader of the bald heads is the distinctly not-bald singer, songwriter, artist, and pop culture icon Serge Gainsbourg.
Though the plot is essentially a spy novel cliche — it is approached with a deeply absurdist, surrealist bent. Elements such as the Americans being headquartered in a bowling alley or Shoskatovich torturing his captives by blasting “capitalist rock music” at them are played in a deadpan manner but are possessed of a wonderfully odd humor. There are moments that even lend themselves to the fantastique — such as when Sylvainne is instructed to feed “the beast.” This beast is never shown in full but apparently some kind of sea monster lives in the churning swimming pool on the Von Krantz estate. In what is likely destined to be the most memorable scene of the film — the “bald heads” perform a candlelit embalming/funerary rite for one of their fallen comrades while Serge Gainsbourg performs a haunting lounge number “Bye Bye Mister Spy.” The final chapter introduces yet another faction and the disparate plot threads converge in ways both ridiculous and pessimistic — as is only appropriate for a narrative so steeped in Cold War paranoia.
As Unknown Man moves from bizarre plot point to plot point — its immediate impact is rooted in its amazingly rendered visual world. The comic strip inspired science fiction/espionage story is set in a series of striking locations — some of which were clearly constructed sets but many are real locations with minimal art direction flourishes. The result gives Roger Bimpage’s expressionist black and white photography a somewhat Kubrick-ian feel but unlike Kubrick — Roy and Bimpage used their television experience to shoot quickly and at a fraction of the cost. The most notable of these location-as-character sequences is when Sylvainne escapes her father and travels to Shandigor — composed almost entirely of shots of Gaudi’s architecture in Barcelona. Roy also did a tremendous job of filling his ensemble with remarkable faces that help bring his heightened absurdist world to reality. Emilfork, Howard, Dfulho, and Gainsbourg all possess visages that reflect the weird universe that surrounds them. The largely anonymous “bald heads” were all truly bald non-actors cast for their look — though the most recognizable among them is played by Unknown Man screenwriter Gabriel Arout.
Though Unknown Man may prove too abstract or delivered too dryly for some audiences — I think the exceptionally strange imagery and world conveyed as well as the unique assembly of personalities is more than enough to recommend it. Fans of Jeunet, fans of Gilliam’s more dystopian visions, and certainly anyone interested in New Wave adjacent 60s cinema are going to find a lot to appreciate in Roy’s film. I will say that while I enjoyed my first viewing of Unknown Man — it has really opened up to me as a text through pursuing the extras with the blu-ray release. There’s an excellent essay from writer/punk rock legend Chris D. that I read before watching and the archival Swiss television special is such a great find — it includes interviews with Roy and several of the cast members giving their thoughts on the production and their approach to filmmaking and acting. Writer/film historian Samm Deighan’s solo commentary is terrific and best helped me contextualize the film — not only in giving some background on Jean-Louis Roy but connecting Unknown Man to a list of films that I’ve been both discovering for myself or revisiting after a long absence. Given the journey that I’ve gone on with this film — The Unknown Man of Shandigor will undoubtedly make my best new-to-me list for the year.
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