Bibliothèque Pascal is a hard movie to put your finger on. It’s sweeping, ambitious, very charming but yet remains disjointed and stilted in its storytelling. Pascal is a very moving film that’s both helped and hurt by its episodic nature.
In the movie, Orsolya Török-Illyés plays Mona, a woman who stumbles from one misadventure to the next — more often than not in a quest to provide quality care for her child. A Hungarian film, Pascal is written and directed by Szabolcs Hajdu. In many ways, the movie parallels the Tim Burton film Big Fish. The art of storytelling and larger than life situations plays a large part in the film’s plot. So does the ambiguity of perceived fantasy.
Instead of quaint encounters with giants or Siamese twins, though, Pascal’s Mona is thrown into some pretty hairy (and sexy) troubles.
She meets the father of her future child while lounging on a beach. A man named Viorel (Andi Vasluianu) emerges, buried in the sand, to hold a gun to her neck and force her into hiding him from the police. What starts as a hostage situation between her and her captive (Viorel is running from the authorities after severely injuring a gay man for being gay) quickly turns into a love affair after the two experience a shared dream. It seems Viorel has the ability to link others into his sleeping unconsciousness — a trait he’ll eventually pass on to the pair’s daughter.
From there, Mona moves on with her daughter — supporting her child through street performance. It’s at this time that Mona’s long-lost father reinserts himself into her life — just to send his daughter tumbling even further down the rabbit hole of misfortune.
Sold into sexual bondage, Mona is bought by Pascal (Shamgar Amram), a former street performer who owns and operates a brothel in London. Bibliothèque Pascal, Pascal’s business, specializes in a particular form of prostitution — the women (and men) housed in the brothel are dressed as metaphorical representations of classic literary characters such as Pinocchio, Desdemona and Joan of Arc. Don’t expect fancy cosplay with ruffled cloaks and frilly aprons, though. The prostitutes’ wardrobe is all manners of kinky. Expect plenty of leather, zippers and giant dildos.
The film, much like Yann Martel’s novel Life of Pi, is about coping with tragedy and strife with the help of fantasy. Mona uses storytelling to not only make a living and entertain her daughter but also to escape from the increasingly scary situations she’s put into. An amazing ending just highlights this theme and moves the movie to another level.
Unfortunately, there is not a lot of cohesion in the film. Pascal feels like a series of episodes as Mona moves from one strife to the next. Some of these encounters work better than others.
The more I think about it, though, the more I realize that I loved the film more than I initially realized. The movie is like an earworm — it implants itself in your head and takes hold. Days after watching Pascal, I am still recalling some of the beautiful shots inside the film. The movie is an absolute treat to look at, both brilliantly shot and composed, and featuring some of the most vivid colors you’re likely to see this year. Pascal is a strangely beautiful film — the only problem is you won’t realize it until after the fact.
Due to its episodic nature, the film has a hard time connecting audiences in the process. Every segment feels like a short film, as if audiences are constantly being brought out of one dream and dropped-kicked into the next. When seen in retrospect, though, the entire movie is a beautiful tapestry, like an ornately woven rug or eastern European goulash.
Bibliothèque Pascal is not a film that really works well in a festival setting. Slow paced and somewhat meandering, the film does not have a chance to shine when seen in the midst of other, more immediately memorable films. If given the chance, check out the movie — if only for the scenes inside the literary-themed brothel — but make sure you give it the space it needs to breathe. I honestly believe that will make all the difference.
Directors: Szabolcs Hajdu
Notable Cast: Orsolya Török-Illyés, Andi Vasluianu, Shamgar Amram and Oana Pellea
Writer: Szabolcs Hajdu
