Max Train Directs Bizarre Comedy About Bicycle Thieves

Not since then Bicycle thieves has a film so decidedly focused on the theft of a bicycle as Jameswhich received its world premiere at the Oldenburg Film Festival. Which isn’t to say that Max Train’s new screwball comedy has much in common with Vittorio De Sica’s 1948 neorealist classic, other than the fact that it was shot in black and white. The kind of film for which the term “bizarre” might have been invented, it bears far more resemblance to Jim Jarmusch’s early work, especially in his deadpan style. Perhaps best enjoyed at a midnight screening after a few drinks, the Canadian indie is another example of the festival uncovering a small-scale gem.

The film begins with the title character, a hard-drinking man (Dylan Beatch, who co-wrote the screenplay with Train) getting violently arrested and then telling his story to a detective who wants to know why he committed so many crimes against a single individual. We cut to the beginning of the story, with the hapless, nihilistic James being dumped by his girlfriend because of his anger issues. Living in a single room with a mattress on the floor in a church-run shelter, he can't even go for a cheap meal at a noodle restaurant without nearly getting a finger cut off by the Japanese chefs he offends.

James's life changes when he discovers part of a metal bicycle frame in the trash and, after salvaging more parts, assembles a bicycle that he uses to get a job as a courier. All seems well for a while, until he delivers a package to a butcher shop. The exotically named owner, Valentin DeWolfe (James Cowley), is an obsessive collector who immediately recognizes James's bike frame as an extremely rare example, created by an Italian designer in the 1940s. After his offer to buy it for an exorbitant price is rejected, he hires a pair of small-time thieves to steal it. Thus begins James's journey into the underbelly of Vancouver to recover his bike and avoid a downward spiral.

It’s small stuff, to be sure, and not all of the minimalist humor works. Some of the jokes, like the largely incomprehensible dialogue from the heavily accented Irish bike thieves, go on well past their sell-by date. The episodic plot, which includes James’s encounters with a mysterious Japanese woman (Yumi Nagashima, excellent) who’s also after the bike, unravels more than it needs to, making the film feel longer than its relatively short running time.

Despite its flaws, James — the film, not necessarily the character — is a quietly eccentric charm, at times reminiscent of a period silent comedy in its visual humor and central figure stumbling through life like a modern-day Buster Keaton. And even with its obviously shoestring budget, the impressionistic debut film feels supremely polished, with a folk- and blues-infused soundtrack (Danny Eberhardt, Sally Jorgensen, and Max Train are credited for the music) that adds greatly to its offbeat mood.

The nervous Beatch carries the film deftly, finding the dark humor in his protagonist but resisting the temptation to toy with the audience's sympathy, and Paulina Munoz gives an excellent supporting performance as the collector's sister who finds herself sympathizing with James's plight.