Guy Maddin is some kind of genius, but his movies, as short as they are, still feel a little long. They're rich candy, and a little goes a long way. Like his previous movie, Dracula: Pages From A Virgin's Diary, which was on my list of provocations last year, The Saddest Music in the World is densely constructed out of black-and-white, sometimes tinted images that seem like they're 75 years old, like they were rescued from the floor of a film vault, but of course they were all shot recently. It's weirdly funny, like something out of a Robert Coover novel, the story of a contest to determine which nation has the saddest music, a competition with inane commentators that speak over the maudlin performances, jarring arena buzzers that mark the beginning of each bout, and a flume down which winning delegates slide into a beer bath. The rationale for the contest is explained with more plot points and family secrets than I can remember.
Those who call The Saddest Music in the World a parody of 1930s musicals might be hard-pressed to identify a movie that it parodies. A number of commentators are quick to liken it to silent films, although it's not clear whether they truly mean "silent" or just "old." The movie uses dialog instead of intertitles, for example. It exists in a world of its own, and while Maddin is certainly nodding to an era past, he appropriates only a few of its bits and pieces for his manic devices.
The result doesn't leave me with much to think about and it gets a bit repetitive, but I enjoy watching the huckster who's in charge of the American team, played by Mark McKinney from The Kids in the Hall, as he cherry-picks the best musicians from the other countries and concocts a kind of feel-good sad music that leaves the spectators stomping for more. Complicating matters, he and his family have a complex relationship with the judge of the contest, Isabella Rosselini, who incidentally walks around on glass legs filled with beer. But I'm sure you already guessed that.