Vincent Cassel plays a doofus DJ in the French comedy Banger (now on Netflix), which may seem out-of-pocket to American audiences used to seeing him play scowling crooks and heavies in David Cronenberg films and Oceanâs and Bourne movies. The film is the first feature from director So-Me (real name: Bertrand Lagros de Langeron), who in the past decade shifted from music video work (for the likes of Kanye West, MGMT and Justice) to TV, specifically the series 6 X Confine.e.s, an episode of which features Casselâs original turn as Scorpex, a one-hit-wonder DJ whoâs a few years past his zeitgeist expiration date â a character, as it turns out, who might work best within a form shorter than feature-length films.
BANGER: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?
The Gist: Welcome to the Cultural Differences Report, where an American rock ânâ roll guy attempts to make sense of European DJ/dance/EDM culture. Banger throws us in the deep end of the scene, assuming we know some of the lingo and customs, and we kinda eventually get the gist, although there are moments when a âgoodâ dance track is played, and other moments when a âbadâ dance track is played, and Jebus help me, I couldnât tell the difference. There is a sorta funny bit where a character demonstrates the differences between various subgenres ranging from electro to gabber, and I think it has to do with tempo, so that was helpful. Oh, and thereâs a funny bit where Casselâs character Scorpex explains that DJs just play other peopleâs music and the art is in mixing and sequencing the tracks, but that DJs also canât get âbigâ without writing their own original tracks, and I interpreted that as the equivalent of a rock band graduating from playing covers to writing and performing originals, which was helpful.
Thank you for indulging my ignorant confessions. I will now cease being older than Nebuchadnezzar and get to the plot of this movie, which revolves around the sorry existence of Scorpex, a DJ deep in denial about his cultural relevance, 15 years after he reaped the glory of having a hit dance track â or, in the parlance of music in general, a âbangerâ (a word Iâm familiar with, because even geezers like Iron Maiden can have one). Now he finds himself trying to buy himself a few more seconds of stage time by gently sabotaging the arrival of the headliner. And that headliner is a fellow deej named named Vestax (Mister V), who not only ripped off Scorpexâs arms-crossed âXâ gesture of solidarity, but rolls Scorpy boy right off the stage in the middle of spinning his hit. Call it as you see it: Scorpex is washed up. A has-been. One-hit wonder. Not that heâll admit it: âI wonât get out of bed for less than 100k,â he lies to himself and anyone whoâll listen. âIâm less public, but itâs a choice.â
Truth now: Dudeâs in deep tax debt, and thatâs why narcotics agent Rose (Laura Felpin) can lean on him to be an informant. See, Vestax is a big fat phony whoâs propped up by people who compose tracks for him, and whoâs bankrolled by organized criminals. Scorpexâs job is to infiltrate the drug ring and identify the boss, a task important enough that the cops probably shouldnât have given it to a total clodpoll â the IQs in this movie are questionable across the board. But he has enough connections in the scene to allow him to pal up with Vestax, and they end up having something in common, namely, theyâre morons. While the two deck dorks try to compose a [INSERT MOVIE TITLE HERE] for an upcoming high-profile fashion show, Scorpex might almost be shrewd enough to maybe realize that this whole charade might raise his profile, rejuvenate his career and maybe even nudge Vestax out of the way. Meanwhile, Scorpex does what he can to shield his 20-something daughter Toni (Nina Zem) from these shenanigans. Mildly dangerous hijinks ensue!
What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: We sold a lot of DVD copies of the documentary Scratch at the record shop back in the early 2000s. Banger also plays a bit like Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping, with its genial lampooning of music culture, albeit without the mockumentary conceit.
Performance Worth Watching: Cassel never lacks for charisma, even when heâs in a loosey-goosey lark like Banger, flexing his underrated comedy chops while playing a character who comes off like a dance-culture riff on Ali G.
Memorable Dialogue: Our protagâs mantra reflects an inability to accept reality: âThereâs no comeback, sweetie. Scorpex never left.â
Sex and Skin: Male butts and pubes.
Our Take: Even within a concise 91-minute runtime, Banger is flabby and padded, its loosely sketched characters farting around in scenes that eventually get around to pushing the plot forward, like a teenager who has to be hectored to take out the garbage. You want to hop into the frame and tell âem to GET TO IT and CHOP CHOP. We might be more patient if the writing and riffing were funnier, and while some laughs do emerge, they rarely transcend from mild smirks to holy-grail guffaws. Maybe audiences steeped in the music scene are the targeted demographic, because some of the comedy plays like itâs on the other side of the velvet rope. Iron Maiden guys (guilty!) and other older-generation types are likely to shrug and snort and shake their heads.
Not that this music-scene quasi-deep-cover crime-comedy is trying to be The Departed. Its ambitions are far more modest, aiming for farce, evident in the hither-and-thither screenplay that plays like a series of setups with the words jokes pending written far too many times in the margins. Cassel is a sporting chap, embracing the silliness of a smooth-brained character desperately clinging to the past and unable to accept the present, but who has just enough wrinkles in the olâ gray matter to allow him to scheme a little bit for his future.
The actor indulges a bit of slapstick and verbal wit as he works his way through scenes of shaky subterfuge, goofy bits with the terminally hapless Vestax in the recording studio and the inevitable ultra-stoned drug sequence thatâs a staple of comedies ranging from slightly desperate to tragically desperate. The story meanders more than it builds, and narrative tension is pretty much nonexistent on the way to an ending that fizzles like a firecracker tossed into a rainstorm â like the filmmakers were just thinking, you know, good enough.
Our Call: Bangerâ isnât quite good enough, though. SKIP IT.
John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
The post Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Banger’ on Netflix, a Goofy French Romp Starring Vincent Cassel as a Has-Been DJ appeared first on Decider.
