Words by JANE CROWTHER
Closeness and Beanpole filmmaker Kantemir Balagov debuts his first English language movie at Cannes this year and, unfortunately, the third time is not the charm. Set in New Jersey, it tracks a blue collar Circassian family running a failing diner where delens (regional cheese and potato pies) are talked about incessantly and the minutiae of working class life is considered enough of a narrative hook. Azik (Barry Keoghan) is a whimsical chef who claims to make his excellent conserve out butterflies. ‘I can make anything,’ he boasts to his gambling, wrestling crew who swig vodka and rough house through the restaurant after hours. Only, he can’t. A widowed dad to a 16 year-old wrestling champ, Tamir (Talga Akdogan) – who behaves more like the parent in the relationship – Azik can’t make a living or much of himself. He’d like to work at a mate’s new flashy restaurant but fails to recommend himself, his idea of a gift to his son is a visit to a local sex worker, and his male pride is constantly pricked by Marat (Harry Melling), a shifty livewire whose mood seems always in flux. Azik’s heavily pregnant sister, Zayla (Riley Keough) despairs at the lack of purpose as she furiously mops the floors and phones an absent husband.
Masculinity is prided within this group – the ability to provide for family, pin a man to the floor, seduce women in bars. Marat struggles with all of them, baiting Azik with macho posturing that has fatal consequences. There’s also a pink pelican that wanders around the family’s plant-strewn house clapping its beak together and watching the cast with doleful eyes. The bird is incredibly engaging where the characters are not. The film closes with a celebrity cameo that feels unmoored and unearned.
As a study of the Circassian community and toxic machismo, Butterfly Jam never digs deep enough into either. Delens and a professional funeral mourner played for comedy aside, there’s little to learn about the culture or diaspora of this group. While the posturing and slighting of male ego is Scorsese-lite and culminates, violently, in something of a cheap shot (narratively and visually). Pink is everywhere – in Tamir’s clothes and wrestling suit, the pelican, the broken candyfloss machine Maret buys, the jam that Azik serves – but within such an unfocused story it adds little meaning. It’s a shame that such a talented filmmaker and his buzzy cast do not have more to say. Like the job that Azik fails to get, it feels like a missed opportunity.
Words by JANE CROWTHER
Images courtesy of Why Not Productions
Butterfly Jam premiered at the 79th Cannes Film Festival
