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| Courtesy of Deaf Crocodile Films |
Vinegar Syndrome has not only been scouring the film labs,
basements and garages in their quest to unearth as many forgotten gems as well
as duds in lavish special limited-edition releases, they’ve been striking deals
with various partner labels including but not limited to sponsoring some of their
partners’ releases outright. One of
their newest partner labels, Deaf Crocodile Films who handled the 4K
restoration of Romania’s first animated film Delta Space Mission, made
their presence known on the world stage of boutique label releasing with the
unearthing and full restoration of Swiss director Jean-Louis Roy’s beguiling,
madcap and mystifying send-up of the Cold War spy thriller The Unknown Man
of Shandigor.
Thought to be long-lost for decades, this star studded French-language mod romp and answer to the French New Wave concerns an ensemble cast of characters zeroing in on a mad scientist named Herbert Von Krantz (The City of Lost Children’s Daniel Emilfork) who has designed a device that can disarm all of the world’s nuclear weapons. Instantly making himself a target for Soviet spies, a group of bald robotic turtle-necked assassins led by singer/actor Serge Gainsbourg and tinged with loose romantic intrigue as the scientist’s daughter Sylvaine (Marie-France Boyer) tries to elope with her debonair boyfriend Manuel (Ben Carruthers).
Thought to be long-lost for decades, this star studded French-language mod romp and answer to the French New Wave concerns an ensemble cast of characters zeroing in on a mad scientist named Herbert Von Krantz (The City of Lost Children’s Daniel Emilfork) who has designed a device that can disarm all of the world’s nuclear weapons. Instantly making himself a target for Soviet spies, a group of bald robotic turtle-necked assassins led by singer/actor Serge Gainsbourg and tinged with loose romantic intrigue as the scientist’s daughter Sylvaine (Marie-France Boyer) tries to elope with her debonair boyfriend Manuel (Ben Carruthers).
Partly inspired by Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove, partly a Ken Russell farcical parody of the spy thriller subgenre and in particular the James Bond movies and rendered with the absurdist lunatic visual energy of Robert Downey, Sr., Jean-Louis Roy’s The Unknown Man of Shandigor is perhaps the wackiest “crime thriller” of its kind since Seijun Suzuki’s equally baffling yet hypnotic Branded to Kill. While a controlled and handsomely photographed black-and-white piece shot by Roger Bimpage, the offbeat mixture of straightforward suspense and tongue-firmly-planted-in-cheek absurdity make this a bit of a cocktail that keeps you on your toes as well as off guard. While you get caught up in the film’s comic energy, then you’re yanked back into the film’s unusual brand of “realism”.
Including but not limited to an unseen monster which faithful daughter Sylvaine is seen feeding large scraps of meat, Serge Gainsbourg strumming a funeral parlor organ in an eyebrow raising unreleased original song Bye, Bye Mister Spy, a Russian who tortures his victims with American rock music and a former Nazi now working for the Americans, The Unknown Man of Shandigor is genuinely all over the place and, again, could easily be mistaken for a Robert Downey, Sr. film ala Babo 73 or Putney Swope. Part of what keeps this seeming house of cards together aside from the film’s splendid cast of character actors is the setting, taking full advantage of architect Antoni Gaudi’s sculptures as well as the interior visual design of the wheelchair bound scientist’s secret mansion assassins continue to try and besiege.
For whatever reason, the film never received an English friendly theatrical release anywhere outside of attempts to sell it at Cannes and the only way to see it was through near-unwatchable third-generation bootleg VHS cassette tapes, ruining the film’s lush and innovative cinematography. Circa 2022 however, the emerging boutique sublabel Deaf Crocodile Films proceeded to right that wrong with a full top to bottom 4K restoration and blu-ray disc as well as 4K digital streaming release, giving modern audiences a rare opportunity to glimpse a truly clandestine little gem that’s equal parts Godard, Melville and even a hint of Richard Lester. A one-of-a-kind time capsule that could’ve only emerged from late-1960s Europe’s response to the French New Wave movement.
--Andrew Kotwicki
