One of the best things about Netflix is its archive of fairly obscure independent films. I recently stumbled upon a particularly unique find by the name of “Rubber.” Literally a movie about a car tire, “Rubber” is probably the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. Once you get over the initial shock of realizing you’re watching a movie about an inanimate object coming to life, it’s actually rather entertaining, with a pretty decent plot – assuming you can make it past the uncomfortably awkward and confusing opening scene.
Set in an eerily remote dust-and-tumbleweed desert, the film begins with a slightly creepy bespectacled man, clad in dress shirt and tie, standing alone with two handfuls of binoculars. You can hear nothing but silence and wind as the camera focuses on the scattered assortment of wooden chairs that have been placed haphazardly across a gravel road for no apparent reason. At this point, I was instantly hooked because of the quirky variables at play in such a scene.
An old Cadillac slowly pulls up to the man, intentionally knocking down every chair on the way, and a police officer steps out of the car. Walking up to face the camera, he speaks directly to his audience – profound words that mean nothing and everything at the same time.
“In the Steven Spielberg movie ‘E.T.,’ why is the alien brown? No reason. In “Love Story,” why do the two characters fall madly in love with each other? No reason…I could go on for hours with more examples. The list is endless. You probably never gave it a thought, but all great films, without exception, contain an important element of no reason. And you know why? Because life itself is filled with no reason.”
At this point, you may start to see the parallels between the officer’s speech and the filming technique of the movie itself. For example, why does another officer climb out of the trunk of the Cadillac and hand the first officer a glass of water? Why did the Cadillac knock over every chair on its way up the gravel road? Why is the bespectacled man dressed like he’s going to church? You demand answers for these arbitrary oddities, answers that you will never receive because there is simply no reason for their existence.
The whole film continues on in this fashion. Long story short, a solitary car tire that had been buried in the dirt comes to life and rolls through the desert, only to discover that it has a supernatural psychic power to kill. The Netflix description, and I quote, reads:
“A car tire named Robert rolls through the desert Southwest using its strange psychic powers to blow up birds, bunnies, human beings and more.”
Yes, someone actually made a movie like this.
The movie follows the homicidal tire’s journey as it embarks on a killing spree at motels, on highways, etc. And it is every bit as ridiculous as it sounds. Meanwhile, there’s more to the story, as the bespectacled man hands out his binoculars to the “spectators” – people who have come to watch the movie live as it is taking place. It’s all incredibly confusing, with an “Inception”-like twist that messes with your mind – it’s essentially a movie within a movie.
I would recommend this film, classified as a French comedy, to anyone who enjoys awkward humor, pointless details and a perplexing plot line. Yes, it’s cheesy, and yes, it’s low budget, but it will definitely leave you feeling enlightened and confused at the same time – a dynamic extremely difficult to conjure.
