There’s a scene in Glenn Danzig’s horror anthology film, Verotika, that is burned into every viewer’s mind: during a spicy sexual encounter, the female character Dajette is suddenly revealed to have two human eyes on her breasts instead of nipples. Whether you remember anything else about the Misfits frontman’s foray into film, the visual of one of Dajette’s nipple eyes shedding a single tear will never ever leave you. While French director Pierre Creton’s latest film, A Prince, has very little in common with Verotika, it sure does offer up its very own version of the nipple breast that is sure to overpower anything else of value that this film has to offer.
A Prince is a convoluted tale. Told mostly through voiceover, the characters in the film guide viewers through the narrative like old friends reminiscing about days gone by. This technique often feels akin to some of Chris Marker’s films—La Jetée and Sans Soleil in particular—in which images are paired with voiceover to create something that’s more visual essay than traditional film. But where Marker succeeds, Creton often falls flat, expecting his audience to develop interest and attachment to one-dimensional characters who rarely utter words on screen. The film follows Pierre-Joseph (played by both Antoine Pirotte and Creton, himself) as he navigates mentorships-turned-sexual-relationships with two of his horticulture professors. The movie is erotic in many ways, but it would be a far cry to refer to it as “sexy,” the intimate scenes dragging out in long, awkward embraces that never really seem to serve their purpose. There is also an added plot of a young, adopted boy named Kutta (Chiman Dangi) who seems to hold the key to unlocking the meaning behind this film but whose story ends up so far in the weeds that it becomes impossible to ever find.
Creton’s film is visually beautiful. The landscapes are stunning and some of the imagery—especially the death scenes—provide beautiful moments that are impossible to forget. Unfortunately, the sparse dialogue makes things difficult to follow, and Creton’s message often feels more overgrown than some of the gardens the characters tend to. There is something compelling about creating a film that pairs a gay love triangle with aspects of gardening and horticulture, but unfortunately for Creton, his message never really becomes realized. Audiences will no doubt walk away from this film having more to say about the startlingly CGI-centric occurrence near the film’s end than the subtler, more nuanced aspects on display here.
Much like plants grow to branch out and separate from each other, all while still remaining tethered to a single, connective stalk, A Prince offers up the opportunity for interesting metaphors to be created in regards to homosexuality, growth, reproduction and what it means to nourish. Unfortunately, the movie gets too bogged down in its own artistic sentiments to offer up enough moments of clarity in which viewers can get their bearings and begin to parse out the film’s underlying message. Creton did his best to create a lush paradise, but sadly it offers up more weeds than roses.
Photo courtesy of Strand Releasing
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