The Other Laurens: Le Grand Lebowski, by Alexander Miller

We open to a night world where lens flares and piercing neons flood the frames. A bug-eyed man looking into the ether seems to be having a tete-e-tete with some unseen almighty force; his cronies join him, and with little time passed, we know these are criminals. The shady cloud of criminal activity looms, and they speak of an “American woman” being a “pain in the ass.”

A woman emerges from a building asserting herself to a gaggle of tough guys; her blonde hair and feminine presence almost seem an impossible juxtaposition to the steely blue masculinized milieu anticipation is accustomed to. But her necessity and visual insistence prevail; this character, Shelby, played by Kate Moran (the enigmatic ex-lover from 2018’s Knife + Heart), is this film’s association with a femme fatale. 

The Other Laurens is a neon-neo-noir by association. Whereas some borrow, crib, emulate, or revise noir tropes, Claude Schmitz spins a stylish yarn that associates itself with the incidental genre’s foundings (after all, Edgar G. Ulmer, Billy Wilder, or Joseph Lewis never said, “Hey, let’s make a film noir”) while applying a steely modernity to the more self-conscious outings that would evolve in its wake. The Other Laurens is noir in the way that Claire Denis affects frissons of transgressive tension with her Faulkner-inspired Bastards. Like Denis, Schmitz relies on a self-styled sense of discipline, where you have to work a little bit to get at what’s going on, with enough room to wander and wonder. Unlike Denis, however, we wander a bit too far, and the characters feel alien; at first, it feels like a deadpan Jarmuschian patois, but with each ascension, the admirable miasma and mysterious atmosphere deepens, but the intrigue dissipates. 

When the film introduces us to Gabriel Laurens, the shaggy dog private investigator, he’s a perfect foil for this type of story. Down and out, past whatever prime they might have had, Olivier Rabourdin has a face that registers a calm disposition of dangerous sadness. His presence has the subtly tough veneer of Ray Winstone; Gabriel plays out like an introspective tough guy who might not realize he’s right before acting on his better instincts.

When his niece, Jade, approaches Gabriel to investigate the mysterious death of her father, his twin brother, a wealthy seeming entrepreneur who, of course, is married to the mysterious Shelby. This set-up is rife with potential. Shady dealings, familial tension, mysterious death, and the film presents itself with deliberate pace and moody style to spare, but the secrets and lies buried beneath the neon parallels between the stories past and present are partially excavated. The intention is felt. A cautious gait can be the stuff of tremendous interest, the kinds of mysteries where you leave with more questions than answers, the pieces of the puzzle that stay in your pocket when the credits roll. The dead chauffeur in The Big Sleep that even Raymond Chandler couldn’t account for, the unseen transgressions abound. The Golden Fang from Inherent Vice, what was Vera doing before getting into the car with Al Roberts in Detour? But The Other Laurens pivots interest in sporadic bursts, and the fallout is the resounding inability to hold on to the climactic conflagrations; it’s not ungenerous, nor does the script fail to deliver alluring complexities and curiosities, but there’s an absence of relational conflict. 

Jade’s interest in her father’s death seems perfunctory, and the revelation of the sibling rivalry between Gabriel and his thought-to-be-departed twin brother doesn’t have the spark of contention; there’s an always present biker gang, but they seem to be there for the very sake of being there. While some noir narratives are advantaged by playing in the shadows, the dark edges of The Other Laurens look more like an absence of light; whether or not a peek around the corner doesn’t come to mind. 

There are jokey ambitions, and the film’s droll sense of humor comes off as an adjunct to the proceedings. At times, a playful sense of irony flatters the omnipresent weirdness, but at others, it drifts. In some cases, the noir association works to the films benefit, but at other points this approach confuses and muddles the rich vein of potential.

The Other Laurens has a satisfied and admirable construction with style to spare but there’s a wandering distance that can keep its viewers at a remove.