If one wanted a strong entry point into experimental European cinema, two names that serve to be appropriate introductions are Walerian Borowczyk, the acclaimed Polish filmmaker with a penchant for the absurd, and Bertrand Mandico, a French director who has cited “Boro” as one of his influences. This is made extremely evident in Boro in the Box, his curious and provocative attempt at making a biographical film about his hero. Naturally, anyone who has ever encountered either director’s work will know how radically unconventional their visions skewed, so much that calling this a biography at all seems wildly inappropriate, but yet is the most logical way to begin to describe a film so divorced from reality, the very experience of watching it is akin to a nightmare more than it is a work of art, which is perhaps the exact intention Mandico had when constructing it. Both filmmakers had a penchant for the absurd, and an outward disregard for conversations around decency (while still maintaining a level of morality – many described Borowczyk as “a genius that also happened to be a pornographer”, an epithet he wore with pride, and which Mandico uses in a vivid but tasteful way in exploring his life. Bold and audacious, and filled with unforgettable imagery, Boro in the Box is a fascinating document – it may not be particularly easy to follow, but its merits as a work of unhinged artistic expression more than make up for the slight amounts of confusion we may feel as a result of the disconcerting narrative.

Something that is vitally important to remember when venturing into Boro in the Box is that Mandico does not make films that play to all audiences – this isn’t a reference to how elusive they are to find, but rather that they’re not all that accessible on a narrative or conceptual level. The director indicates very early on that his intention is to make a biographical film about someone he admires, but anyone who has even glanced at either artists’ work will know that this was purely a loose premise that bears very little (if any) resemblance to previous efforts to pay tribute to an artist’s life. Yet, we can’t help but feel like we’re continuously being invited into this world. Constructed as a stream-of-consciousness narrative that follows roughly twenty years in the life of the director (from his birth to his emergence as a filmmaker, first in his native Poland and then in France – the final words of the film are “my parents never saw my French films”, which situates the film to essentially his entire early career), and structured around a series of two-dozen scenes, each one a chapter arranged alphabetically based on their fundamental themes, Boro in the Box is a wildly ambitious film on both a narrative and visual level, which is exactly what we should expect from a director as audacious as Mandico – in fact, it is perhaps the only quality we can confidently anticipate when venturing into one of his many peculiar but vividly fascinating films.

Categorizing this film is a daunting activity – there are simply too many moving parts here to fully comprehend the full scope of what Mandico was aiming to achieve here, and we struggle to reconcile the bold imagery with the theoretical components. Whatever the director was aiming to achieve when setting out to pay tribute to one of his cinematic heroes is inexplicable, but we realize almost immediately that this is a very special film, even if we can’t quite put it into words that make sense. Unfortunately, Mandico works on a slightly higher plane than a lot of his contemporaries when it comes to his brand of surrealism – this isn’t an example of a film simply being weird for the sake of it, but rather an actively challenging and invigorating glimpse into the human condition. Contemporary artistic theory (specifically in terms of cinema) seems to lack the precise vocabulary to fully describe Boro in the Box, which makes it all the more interesting since opinions are undeniably going to vary to a point where individual viewers may start to question whether they actually saw the same film as those alongside them. It’s a film that thrives on a very direct refusal to explain anything, leaving absolutely everything to the audience’s own interpretation, which can either be frustrating or liberating, depending on the extent to which we are able to surrender to the madness inherent to Mandico’s vision.

The extent to which Boro in the Box is based on reality is not clear – the basic facts are there, with references to the director being born in Poland in the years before the Second World War (since both are directly mentioned), but outside of this, the facts are scarce and difficult to fully comprehend. This is precisely why referring to it as a biographical film feels like we are almost cheating by assigning a label to a film that so actively rebels against categorization, much like a lot of Mandico’s work. Instead, we have to view this film as a fictionalized reimagining of the director’s childhood and early adult life – this allows us some form of an entry point into the world Mandico is composing, an attempt to tell the story of Borowczyk’s youth in a way that the director himself would have enjoyed (since a more conventional film would have seemed like an affront to the qualities he was most proud of as an artist). The oblique and obvious similarities to Kafka are not lost – there is an entire segment named after the esteemed writer, whose nightmarish vision of reality certainly seems to be an influence on the work of both directors, with Mandico in particular being very fond of his brand of surrealism, often using him as a cultural touchstone in his efforts to explore the world that he sees as fragmented and terrifying. This is a form of surrealism that is actively challenging and very dark, and while it can be terrifying at some points, there is a reason behind it, which we learn the further we venture into the film.

Perversion and absurdity have always been the hallmarks of a great surrealist, and both Borowczyk and Mandico demonstrated a radical appreciation for these ideas throughout their careers, which are carefully nurtured here by the latter, who composes a disquieting but undeniably poignant glimpse into the life of someone whose career he admires beyond many others. At only 40 minutes in length, there is not a lot of time for Boro in the Box to explore every one of its themes, but it does well enough with the material to justify its existence, much more than we’d expect from something that many detractors may see as being bizarre simply for the sake of polarizing viewers. Looking at a film from this perspective does an enormous disservice to the many brilliant surrealists we have encountered over time, and whether we’re aligned with the social satire of Luis Buñuel, the unhinged terror of David Lynch, or the carnivalesque charm of Alejandro Jodorowsky, there is something here that will be of value for anything who has a taste for the absurd and deranged. Boro in the Box is an unforgettable film, one that contains an abundance of memorable imagery and deep, disconcerting terror – and considering how strong of a director Mandico is, every choice is deliberate and important, leading to a thrilling but deeply disturbing glimpse into the life of a filmmaker whose own carnal cravings led to a career that may have been unorthodox, but had enough merit to be more than just the meaningless, pornographic ramblings that his critics have accused him of producing.