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PLOT: On a whim, two Parisians decide to travel to Algeria, the homeland of their parents. The journey gets rough, both physically and emotionally.
Exils, the roots story of two French youths of Algerian descent, is impossible to ignore and yet difficult to enjoy.
You sense that French writer-director Tony Gatlif, himself a cultural exile, has lofty ambitions for his film. It explores the nature of cultural identity, especially for first generational young people who live one culture -- in Paris, in this case -- and yet feel alienated from it. At the same time, these youngsters know little or nothing of their family's roots -- in Algiers, in this case -- and are alienated from that, too.
So we follow the road-movie journey of a young man (Romain Duris) and his girlfriend (Lubna Azabal) as they travel on little money and less sense through France, Spain, Morocco and finally to Algeria.
Exils, or Exiles in English, plays here in French, Spanish, Romany and Arabic with English subtitles for most of the dialogue.
The trouble with the movie, despite its pulsating energy, riveting music and lofty ambition, is that the two protagonists are so inconsequential, so creepy.
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The young man is a cliche, a brooding pretty-boy who came from wealth but lives like an artiste without doing anything artistic.
The young woman is just a self-indulgent hellcat. Acting out, she even beds another man on a sexual whim in Seville. Her excuse is one of the movie's most wretched throw-away lines: It's something she learned to do in the porno films both of them made back in Paris. Pointless.
Yet there are strong scenes in the film. For example, the two end up picking fruit with other Algerians in Spain. Those people are trying to get to Paris, not return home. It is a powerful visual.
In another scene, Duris and Azabal carve through a sea of pilgrims walking the opposite way, further emphasizing their obstinate behaviour and their unique quest.
Other scenes, however, just feel like filler, as if this was a road movie short stretched to feature length. For example, Azabal's sexual dance with a marauding mosquito (and I'm not making this up) just seems silly. She may be rootless but does she have to be brainless, too?
The central performances, by Duris and Azabal, are as uneven as the journey they take. At times, both are full flesh-and-blood characters on screen; other times, they look as if they are just goofing off on set and the camera happened to be running.
So Exils, for all its acclaim since it made its debut at the 2004 Cannes Film Festival, is a disappointment.
(This film is rated 18-A)