I have always maintained that Leos Carax is such an ingenious filmmaker, he could make even the most abstract and unconventional ideas seem engaging and captivating. This is exactly what he did in It’s Not Me (French: C’est pas moi), his ambitious and utterly bewildering attempt at self-reflection, and his most recent offering. The film, which he has described as a self-portrait of his journey as an artist, takes the form of a series of moments cobbled together from his existing films, which span from the beginning of the 1980s to only a couple of years ago, and follows Carax as he muses on his inspirations and artistic journey, using both archival footage and new recordings to create this peculiar and engaging reminiscence on the past and the people who populated it as the director ventured on his journey as an artist. Covering several decades of work, interspersed with a number of other observations, the film set out to redefine the boundaries of cinema, something that Carax has been intent on doing for decades, and has mostly succeeded in achieving as time has progressed and he’s become more prominent as an artistic voice. A highly original work in which Carax attempts to condense every aspect of human existence – including the full scope of artistic expression – into a single work of unhinged but magnificent artistry, It’s Not Me is a fascinating achievement – its not a film that always makes much sense, and it takes some time for us to fully embrace some of its underlying ideas, but it is nonetheless a very intriguing work that carries a firm, steadfast sensibility that is difficult to penetrate but also poignant to experience, which is a guiding element behind many of the director’s greatest works, each one of which is carefully revisited throughout this unconventional but insightful series of moments, in which Carax blurs the boundaries between fact and fiction, art and humanity, and life and death, all of which are expertly pieced together in incredibly insightful, meaningful ways.

Over the past few decades, there hasn’t been a year that has gone by where there hasn’t been at least partial discourse about how unoriginal and conventional the film industry has grown, with the complaints being centered around how mainstream filmmakers are driven by corporate standards more than they are by the power of inspiration and the willingness to push boundaries. There are always exceptions – in fact, the sheer number of inventive and daring filmmakers makes it clear that this is just a very surface-level reading of the industry and the people that populate it. Carax has always been one of the easiest examples when discussing pure originality and innovation – no two of his films are alike, and each one of them is unique from anything else we are likely to see conveyed on screen, fascinating observations on the intersections between human nature and social conventions, pieced together into unconvetional artistic endeavours that consistently push the boundaries of a medium it is intent on revolutionising. It’s Not Me is the perfect summation of the director’s ongoing intentions to redefine the medium, since not only is it a terrific whistle-stop tour of his career, but takes a very similar approach as his other films, refusing to abide by conventions and choosing instead to forge its own path, capturing many fascinating ideas while putting us through quite an experience as we navigate the uncanny version of the world that Carax consistently presents to us. These elements all work together to create quite a daring series of moments, each one detailed and poignant in its own way, but also having a sense of incredulity towards ordinary logic that is difficult to not wholeheartedly admire once some distance has been placed between us and the characters. It’s difficult to describe, but easy to understand its appeal as far as pure depictions of artistic expression, which is the most succinct description we can give to this film.

One of the defining qualities that is shared amongst so many of Carax’s wonderful films is the tendency to create unique and compelling characters. They may occasionally feel like they have stepped out of another dimension, and perhaps be bewildering in terms of their intentions, but there’s an infectious curiosity that accompanies every one of them, which has often led to speculation that many of these characters are created as extensions of the director himself, used to explore certain themes from slightly different perspectives. This becomes more evident in It’s Not Me, in which Carax himself is the subject – and rather than hiding behind some offbeat eccentric, he chooses to narrate the film himself, as well as appearing throughout, making it a distinctly autobiographical piece of cinema, and one that captures a very specific set of curiosities. At a glance, the film is structured as a quasi-documentary – the use of constant narration rather than dialogue between characters creates some intentional distance, and the presence of Carax himself adds a sense of reality to the proceedings, as does the frequent use of archival footage. Carax combines scenes from his own films with images from the past, creating some historical context and indicating his inspirations, which are not always clear at the outset, but gradually work together to make a profoundly compelling depiction of his artistic journey. He also takes the opportunity to revisit his previous characters by filming new footage – Denis Lavant (inarguably the director’s muse and his greatest collaborator) reprises the part of Monsieur Merde, which he played previously in Tokyo! and Holy Motors, and who is in many ways the director’s defining creation – particularly in terms of his profound ambiguity, and adds layers of intrigue to an already enigmatic film. Other actors from the director’s career weave in and out, some of them through older footage, some briefly reuniting to participate in the creation of this film. Each one is brought to life with vigour and elegance, and leads to some truly extraordinary themes being explored.

It’s Not Me is not a film that is necessarily designed to be liked or even outwardly enjoyed – it is certainly very entertaining, since Carax does bring the same sardonic sense of humour that is most prominent in a lot of his later works – but it is more of a personal essay than it is a film intended to be widely embraced. The director is offering us valuable insights into his life and creative process, but rather than following an orthodox approach, in which everything is laid out neatly and in an order that is easy to understand, he chooses to go in search of something much deeper and more profound, which is to offer a glimpse into his mind and how he views the world. He is not interested in making anything simpler or more palatable, and is instead focused on examining the most profound recesses of his imagination. As a result, the film doesn’t follow any recognizable patterns – it bounces between themes without much explanation, featuring rambling passages that don’t feel connected to anything in particular, as well as arbitrary asides that don’t seem to have any real meaning behind them outside of giving him the chance to wax poetic on his inspirations. It is divisive by design, and the best way to describe It’s Not Me is simply as a series of vignettes in which Carax embraces a truly free-form manner of exploring these ideas, and unlike some of his peers that have undertaken similarly ambitious endeavours, he does so in a manner that feels genuine and provocative, which allows for some truly extraordinary commentary to emerge in the process. He’s an absolute genius of a filmmaker, and his style is incredibly nuanced, so much that we may not always be able to recognise some of its merits until long after we’ve parted ways with this film, and been able to ruminate on the multitude of unique themes that flow throughout, which seems to be the entire purpose of the film and its unwieldy structure.

It’s Not Me is certainly not a film that is entirely accessible or easy to comprehend at first. Those who are not familiar with Carax’s work are likely to be slightly confused, as several very specific allusions to his work go beyond mere references, and require an active knowledge of his directorial career. He is not all that interested in offering us any logical explanation for some of these ideas, which makes this film quite a daunting experience, albeit one that is worth every moment of our time once we can see the broader intentions simmering beneath the surface. There is something truly enigmatic about this film that keeps us wholeheartedly engaged and invested, as if we have been handed a mystery and invited to engage with several seemingly incomprehensible and vaguely familiar strands, threading them together to unearth the secrets that lurk beneath. Yet, even if we don’t find the answers, the experience of looking at these ideas and attempting to understand their meaning through Carax’s seemingly boundless imagination is worth every moment of our time. At only 41 minutes, it does feel quite short, and a longer film may have allowed some of the ideas to be fleshed out more (and there was certainly enough material to justify a feature-length film), but even taken as what it is, the film is still a poignant and engaging work that reminds us of the director’s incredible vision, and allows him to impart his wisdom in a structure, meaningful manner. Exceptional work from a truly extraordinary cinematic voice.