2022's Flux Gourmet is writer-director Peter Strickland's fifth film, and is typically weird and macabre. Revolving around an artistic collective of "sonic caterers" housed in a remote institute, and the journalist sent to document their work, it is characteristically bizarre and often very, very funny.
The film sees Strickland revisit a few themes from Berberian Sound Studio, as the three members of the collective make truly unpleasant noises using food, specifically vegetable-based food. Appropriately, the strange but highly effective soundtrack is provided by the Sonic Catering Band, of which Strickland is a founding member, and whose work is as interesting as anything in the film. The three members of the group largely dislike each other, and are also at odds with Jan Stevens, the founder and owner of the retreat, who allowed them to stay and present their work to appreciative audiences, whose members reward performances with backstage sexual orgies. Sent to photograph their performances is Stones, a flatulent journalist beset by reflux and halitosis, whose neurotic writing - translated into English via subtitles - is as preoccupied with his gastrointestinal problems as they are about what he witnesses in the collective's performances.
Flux Gourmet is intentionally absurd, somehow coherent in its own warped internal logic, and often laugh-out loud funny, thanks to what possibly uniquely might be termed deadpan toilet humour. Many of Stones' funniest lines concerning his bowel-related discomfort, and he eventually agrees - with extreme reluctance - to undergo a colonoscopy not only in front of the members of the collective, but in front of an audience. When he eventually gets a diagnosis from the deranged, eccentric, cantankerous, classicist Dr Glock, whose habit of delaying his prognoses and diagnoses is hilarious, it turns out to be the diet changing Coeliac's disease (because of course, what else would it be in this film?), one which causes him to ruminate on the social reaction he receives by demanding a gluten-free diet. Meanwhile, the retreat is occasionally terrorised by rejected artistic group the Mangrove Snakes, who throw a beheaded terrapin through the window during dinner; Jan Stevens reveals that she rejected their application for a residency because she doesn't like what they do with terrapins.
Fans of Strickland's unique vision will be delighted by what he serves up here: it intentionally sounds revolting, but looks gorgeous, except of course for Elle's "scatological" performance, which is truly disgusting, even if she cheats by using just chocolate mousse. Cinematographer Tim Sidell is clearly on board with Strickland's uniquely bizarre vision: close-ups demand focused performances by the cast members; wide-angle shots capture the characters' unusual art. And the cast embraces the spirit of the piece wholeheartedly: Fatma Mohamed - who has appeared in all of Strickland's films to date - is magnificently venomous as the diva Elle di Elle, whilst Makis Papadimitriou channels neurosis as Stones. Richard Bremmer - who appeared in In Fabric - is perfectly cast as the misanthropic, intellectual snob Dr Glock, Asa Butterfield, Gwendoline Christie and Ariane Labed are equally convincing as egg-fetishist Billy Rubin, the emotionally volatile Jan Stevens, and the troubled Lamina Propria.
For a film in which the plot is essentially ludicrous and the characters are grotesque caricatures, Flux Gourmet ends on an oddly affirmative note: symbolically, when Elle is shot (but not killed) by a sniper, the remaining members of the Collective introduce meat to their performance, whilst Stones - his alimentary troubles if not quite resolved then at least identified and manageable - realises that he is finally part of something. Fans of Strickland will be left hungry for whatever he cooks up next.