This is a strange story of mental illness (at least that's how I chose to interpret it). A man, Marc, gradually loses his grip on reality after shaving his mustache that was always there as part of his look as a man (or at least he thinks it was). The movie is seen through Marc's perspective which makes it difficult to discern reality from his bouts of schizophrenic hallucinations.

At some points the movie reminds me of Lost Highway in the manner with which it represented the split of the protagonist (or rather a metamorphosis) into two different characters. In La Moustache the split happens at the level of the "life" of the protagonist, his world is constantly subjected to transformations, while he more or less stays the same. However in LH we can discern the "true" part of the protagonist from his "imagined" part. That distinction is impossible in La Moustache ; we don't know where his madness starts and where it ends. He is a total mess, and it is upon this ambiguity that everything we see is built.

All in all, this movie was a really nice surprise that I highly enjoyed and that I recommend for fans of Lynch, Cronenberg and psychological thrillers/dramas.

This movie is a prime example of how the simplest things can mushroom out of control. Architect Marc (Vincent Lindon) has had a moustache since he was knee high to a blueprint and it is, he feels, part of him, then he takes it into his head to speculate on just how much he is identified via the moustache. He starts by asking his live-in lover Agnes (Manu Devos) whether she would still fancy him sans moustache; since she's only known him with it she can't answer. So, out comes the razor and THEN comes the uneasiness that segues into genuine fright. Not only does Devos not notice the difference but neither do their friends and his colleagues at work. We are now on the fringes of a Kafkaesque scenario which isn't really resolved satisfactorily. For reasons that eluded me Marc, by now convinced that Devos has some hidden agenda he can't fathom, lights out for Hong Kong literally in just the clothes he stands up in and spends a few days - weeks, months? - riding the ferry before Devos shows up, or does she? For one thing how did she know where he was and/or track him down to the fleabag where's he's taken a room. Lots of food for thought here and the acting is out of the right bottle if anybody asks you.

Read the book some time ago and after watching the movie felt much the same sort of existential exhilaration - if there is such a thing. Maybe it was just the cold that I have, though. A little overacted at times, but otherwise like an exotic episode of the Twilight Zone, shot in glorious colour. The film reminded me another French film I saw in the theatre recently by the name of Cache, which I enjoyed very much. As for it's American counterpart, I suppose that you'd be looking at something like Lost Highway, David Lynch's bizarre account of a modern, urban couple trying to grapple with the unknown. This seems to be something of a genre for the French and they are quite good at pulling it off - as is evidenced with this film - with considerable style and enough depth of plot and character to leave you considering and reconsidering the film for far more than the sadly customary 10 minutes.

I almost shaved my beard off after watching it just to see what would happen. But I haven't yet. Or have I?