Microbe and Gasoline (2016; Michel Gondry)
By Daniel Barnes
A lo-fi, low-stakes charmer from Michel Gondry, light years removed from the insufferable manic quirk of Mood Indigo. Unfortunately, it’s also a tonally disjointed effort just barely tethered to a meager narrative.
Bullied misfit artist Daniel (branded “Microbe” for his short stature) and new kid gearhead Théo (labeled “Gasoline” because of the grease permanently caked under his nails) set out on a quest to “kick the future’s ass.” To that end, they construct an unlicensed vehicle that transforms into a house whenever a cop comes near.
Microbe and Gasoline is easily the least fantastical feature Gondry has ever made. A lot of the film has the feel of a memoir, with an innocent but angst-ridden charm mostly missing from his recent work. There are a lot of lovely and imaginative sequences, such as Gasoline pantomiming his way through an imaginary capacity crowd at Microbe’s unattended art gallery opening. However, it still feels unformed and slim.
Gondry can’t latch on to anything for more than a couple of minutes at a time, and a lot of the narrative threads (including Audrey Tautou in a throwaway role as Microbe’s mother) are left to flap in the breeze. When the film sticks with the kids, there is at least some truth in there. But when it strays, Microbe and Gasoline becomes just more coming-of-age/road/message movie pablum.