Dreamland (2019) d. Bruce McDonald (Canada-Luxembourg-Belgium) (92 min)
In an unnamed European city, a hired assassin named Johnny (Stephen McHattie) foils a child-trafficking scheme, an assignment that he performs with righteous relish. Upon completion, he discovers to his dismay that his employer Hercules (Henry Rollins) has ordered the hit so that he could take over the booming kiddie prostitution business. Johnny contemplates breaking ties with the Herc, who asks him to perform one last job: procure the little finger of famed jazz musician The Maestro (McHattie as well) who has been hired to play at the upcoming wedding of the Countess’ (Juliette Lewis) brother, a honest-to-fangs vampire (Tomas Lemarquis) who has chosen one of Hercules’ latest acquisitions as his virgin child bride.
If the above plot description sounds a little bonkers, what with hitmen stalking their trumpet-playing Doppelgangers trading beats with Nosferatu Getting Married, you’d be correct, but considering this springs from the minds of screenwriter/novelist Tony Burgess and director McDonald, the gents who gave us Pontypool, it’s actually weirder than it sounds.
As might be gleaned from the title, we are not operating in a realistic landscape, thus nothing can be taken at face value, although to their credit Burgess and McDonald (with help from co-writer Patrick Whistler) attempt to provide a sense of internal logic and the whole thing does follow a relatively straightforward path of storytelling. (Here, the devil is very much in the details.) Whether this translates to an enjoyable viewing experience is another matter, one that will be dictated by the individual viewer’s tolerance level for slow-paced existential dramas masquerading as character studies crossbred with absurdist comedies.
Having the eminently watchable McHattie, a screen veteran with over 200 credits, in dual central roles certainly helps matters, although neither of his characters are terribly nuanced and are primarily distinguished by Johnny’s long stringy fright wig and flickering eyes as opposed to The Maestro’s slicked-back coif and vacant, dazed and glazed expression. (We learn early on that when he’s not blowing the horn, he’s blowing his mind with needles and spoons.) Its a far cry from his electric star-making role (among horror fans at least) as Pontypool’s frustrated shock jock Grant Mazzy, and those hoping to see lightning strike twice are likely to be disappointed, despite the fact that he’s onscreen the majority of the time.
Similarly, Rollins and Lewis are asked to deliver bigger-than-life caricatures rather than characters and while there is some entertainment value in watching the 30-years-older Cape Fear star still rolling her eyes and vowels as a deranged wedding planner, it feels like McDonald has simply asked her to do her “JL Thing.” Rollins fares a little better as the thuggish gang lord, with his shaved pate and querulous glances, but he’s more often playing at dangerous instead of actually exuding danger.
Meanwhile, McHattie’s Pontypool co-star, Lisa Houle, is left completely adrift as a hostess at Hercules’ nightclub with an underexplained connection to Johnny. Of the smaller supporting parts, Lemarquis and Guillaume Kerbusch make the most favorable impressions as the bug-eyed bald bloodsucking bridegroom and the Countess’ harried dogsbody assigned to keep our drug-addled Maestro on leash and on schedule.
It might be gilding the lily to say that the end result possesses a dreamlike quality, but since that’s clearly what McDonald had on his mind, it bears noting that said mission was accomplished. With moody lensing from acclaimed Belgian cinematographer Richard Van Oosterhout (Little Black Spiders) accented by veteran composer Jonathan Goldsmith’s (Visiting Hours) haunting melodies, the sense of being transported to an alternate reality is well-handled from the opening frames to the last.
McDonald even went so far as to hire a “Production Philosopher,” Professor H. Peter Steeves, whose job was to “write a comprehensive philosophic treatment of the script and notes for the actors, write background dialogue, do a bit of set decoration, come up with tag lines, and generally be a theoretician on call.” What is also interesting to learn is that the film was conceived as an unofficial sequel to Pontypool, i.e. existing in the same universe, but I gotta say… I don’t really see it.
While it’s always a pleasure to see McHattie taking center stage, I think we’ll have to wait a little longer before we see another showcase that also holds up its end as a thrilling narrative. In the end, Dreamland plays much like its namesake, engaging in the moment while playing by its own rules, but fading quickly from the brain upon waking. Difficult to relate or recommend, it exists as a film easier to appreciate than enjoy.
Dreamland is available now on VOD from Uncork'd Entertainment and Darkstar Pictures via most commercial platforms.
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