Review: Smoking Causes Coughing

Director:  Quentin Dupieux

Stars:  Anaïs Demoustier, Jean-Pascal Zadi, Adèle Exarchopoulos

It’s difficult to take Quentin Dupieux seriously, but one gets the resounding impression that that’s just the way he likes it. As subtly as a custard pie to the face, the former Mr Oizo has dedicated himself steadfast to a production line of small-scale absurdist comedies over the past 15 years, flying the flag for the daft, the nonsensical and the utterly inscrutable. His is some of the purest critic-proof material going, because the entire ethos of his work countermands the need or urge for deep insight. It’s all a sea of meaninglessness, suggestive of a strangely positive spin on nihilism. There’s no point to anything, so you may as well focus on enjoying it.

While such flippancy can wear thin, Dupieux rarely outstays his welcome, and his efforts come with snappy running times. The same is true of this latest and arguably most-endearing offering Smoking Causes Coughing – a slight ridiculing of superhero movies and, surprisingly, a fun remodelling of that classic genre staple, the anthology horror.

Hitting a mark somewhere midway between Power Rangers and Australian cult exploitation spoof Danger 5, we’re introduced to French crimefighting unit Tobacco Force. There’s the (newly) busty Nicotine (Anaïs Demoustier; unrecognisable from Anaïs in Love), bucktoothed family man Mercure (Jean-Pascal Zadi), bolshy youngster Méthanol (Vincent Lacoste), plucky Ammoniaque (Oulaya Amamra) and their nominal leader is Benzène (Gilles Lellouche). We meet this quintet as they surround and take down a rubber-suited tortoise monster in a quarry, before reporting back to their dribbling rat-puppet commander Didier (Alain Chabat).

Didier has noted a breakdown in solidarity between the members of Tobacco Force and so sends them on a bonding retreat. The lion’s share of the remainder of the movie is spent in the company of the gang as they tell one another campfire stories which become the curious anthology segments within the slim narrative that remains. These detours manifest as kooky extended sketches with little thematic resonance to their colourful framing device, though one which guest spots Adèle Exarchopoulos(!) similarly finds impending doom in a breakdown of communication.

The scope of these side ditties varies greatly and while each is meant to be scarier than the last, they’re all sillier than anything else. The last significant aside builds to a riotously messy punchline. The BBFC advisory foretells of “comic gore”. It’s not kidding. That this tale is presented by a talking barracuda shouldn’t surprise at this point.

With its schlocky, throwback Gene Roddenberry vibe, one would be forgiven for thinking that Smoking Causes Coughing might belong to that long-tired subgenre of threadbare nostalgic flicks, try-hard efforts like Turbo Kid or Psycho Goreman. Where Dupieux differs from these peddlers of kitsch ’80s regurgitation is his refreshing lack of irony. Nothing here is taken seriously, but it is presented with Dupieux’s unique variety of sincerity. We’re expected to accept everything presented at face value. Dupieux defies our desire to look any further than the surface pleasures offered. His cinema is cartoonish, but also hedonistic in its purity of purpose.

Scratch far enough and you’ll find some commentary on evolving perceptions of gender, on political correctness, on our complacent relationship with technology. But this isn’t a thesis piece. In Dupieux’s world – where anything goes – the fate of the world can hang in the balance without anyone being any the wiser. Major events might be happening while we wait for a miracle that never comes. The individual members of Tobacco Force are self-absorbed, fittingly unserious people, reflective of the most of us bumbling through life waiting for our turn to speak. If these are the sum of Dupieux’s observations, he at least has the presence of mind to make them the sweetest bitter pills to swallow.