The Son of Joseph review: a deadpan French dramedy, in the biblical sense

Vincent (Victor Ezenfis), a Parisian teenager, is more sensitive and ethical than his peers, but he is in a bit of a strop with his mother Marie (Natacha Régnier), a kindly nurse who refuses to divulge the name of the boy’s father. It does not require too much snooping for Vincent to discover that his biological progenitor is Oscar Pormenor (Mathieu Amalric), a book publisher, philanderer and all-round monster.

Cue more snooping and a visit to the old man’s offices, where Vincent meets Oscar’s brother, Joseph (Fabrizio Rongione), a sympathetic, down-on-his-luck guy. A delightfully preposterous donkey-dependent chase scene and other farcical goings-on ensue.

The American-born French filmmaker Eugène Green began his career in Baroque theatre and opera, which may explain the odd, exaggerated manner of his movies. Many commentators have cited Wes Anderson, and in particular, The Royal Tenenbaums, as a possible influence on the still, fourth-wall gazes and the stilted, stylised conversations of The Son of Joseph (Le Fils de Joseph).

In truth, it's much droller than that comparison indicates. This is a film defined by Mametian repetitions and an alienated use of language that makes one wonder if the director and his entire cast learned to speak and act using only William Shatner's iconic 1968 spoken word album The Transformed Man. When Vincent (Victor Ezenfis), the young hero, inquires if the hotel concierge can pass on a message, slowly and flatly, the attendant responds: "Conveying messages to guests is just one of my duties."

Even what passes for small-talk sounds absurd: “Do you like the people they call bobos?” (a conflation of bourgeois-bohème and the French for hipster) asks Vincent, with spaces between every word. “No, I detest them”, comes the even–spacier response. All the players bring their best deadpan.

Working with his regular DOP Raphaël O'Byrne, Green has composed a series of tableaux that can be as motionless as the Biblical paintings - Caravaggio's The Sacrifice of Abraham, Georges de La Tour's Joseph the Carpenter – that are used to smuggle in plot points. As with Green's previous films La Sapienza and The Portuguese Nun, sacred art and religious chapter titles ('The Golden Calf', 'The Flight to Egypt') make for playful, mock heroic parallels.