Some filmmakers set out to entertain, others to inform. The group I am often most fascinated by are those who somewhere adhere to both principles, as well as to neither at the same time, with their general impetus being primarily to shock and provoke, which can make for thrilling and genuinely daring viewing that is certainly not for everyone, but those who can grasp onto their wavelength are generally quite receptive to their unconventional charms. For over a quarter of a century, Todd Solondz has been engaging in the art of unsettling and deconstructing the status quo, crafting genuinely deranged films that are also wickedly entertaining. His two biggest successes are arguably Welcome to the Dollhouse (a sacred text to generations of awkward social outcasts) and his masterpiece Happiness, both works being exceptionally daring pieces that influenced many filmmakers, while also borrowing from some of the provocateurs that initially inspired the director. His follow-up to these two films therefore had quite a challenge ahead of it, which ultimately takes the form of Storytelling, a film in which Solondz tells two stories – one about a rebellious college student who has a brief affair with her emotionless but strict professor, the other focusing on the efforts of a documentary filmmaker to break into the industry, which he does through a cinema verité portrait of a typical middle-class family in suburban New Jersey, with particular attention to their aimless son who has aspirations of fame, but neither the skill nor the intelligence to do so convincingly. As perverse and bizarre as just about anything else he has directed, but also anchored by a sense of chaos that hints at something much deeper and more realistic, Storytelling is an extraordinarily strange achievement, but one that highlights the director’s existential quandaries, all of which form the foundation for this wonderfully off-the-wall dark comedy that dares to provoke in ways that we may not entirely understand at first, but which gradually starts to make sense after some time has elapsed and we see his unconventional vision.

Understanding what propels Solondz to tell these bizarre stories and examine such outrageous themes is difficult because nothing he does seems to follow a clear pattern, and attempting to justify some of his decisions is a fool’s errand, since he’s such a bespoke visionary. It can be said that his entire modus operandi is to subvert conventions in increasingly grotesque and challenging ways. In the case of Storytelling, we do find that there are a few elements that correlate to some of his other films as far as thematic content is concerned – primarily, we find that the film is driven by a fascination with the narrow boundary between fiction and non-fiction – both of the stories presented at the heart of the film are about artists realizing how ambiguous the difference between them can be. In “Fiction”, we find a protagonist who decides to write about her trauma through the lens of a fictionalised short story, changing names and specifics, but basing it on reality. In “Non-Fiction”, a film director attempts to craft a compelling documentary about a family, but finds that he can shape the footage to fit any narrative he wants, which goes against the principle of non-fiction filmmaking and how it can sometimes be the most disingenuous of all. Solondz has always been fascinated by the narrative process and how he can use the medium to tell just about any story he wants. In Storytelling, he argues a very clear point – in even the most radical works of fiction, there is always going to be some kernel of truth, based on the writer’s own experiences or internal quandaries, while even those who strive to present reality as it is will tend to be tempted to manipulate the facts to fit a very particular agenda. The two stories (as well as the intended third, which was elided from the narrative entirely) stand on their own, but share very common ideas that work in tandem to create this fascinating depiction of how fiction is present in our everyday lives, and we are all authors of certain narratives in some way or another, even if we may not initially realize the role we play in redefining the truth to fit our own perspective and intentions.

As with everything Solondz has made over the past three decades, Storytelling is a film in which the underlying ideas are rendered in vivid and disturbing detail, walking a razor-thin tightrope between being mildly grotesque and outright immoral. He has relished in making films that are deeply strange and unnerving, but also profoundly captivating to those who can look beyond these elements and instead take on the more deranged aspects of the narrative, which are frequent enough to be a constant presence, but also creative in how they play a part in pushing the narrative forward. Solondz, much like John Waters and any other filmmaker who has focused on dismantling social constructs such as moral etiquette and fundamental decency, challenges us to look beneath the surface and embrace the madness that propels this story forward. This is done through a very precise method of taking familiar scenarios and settings, and keeping them mostly accurate to what we remember, but slightly corrupting them – conversations around the dinner table or a community college seminar are easily recognisable on the surface, but are filtered through a more unsettling set of tonal shifts, which reveal the absurdity lingering beneath the surface. Solondz is propelled by his interest in presenting reality as something only partially recognisable, using common tropes that he manipulates to create a more nightmarish, surreal atmosphere. This is clear in both concept and execution – the script is filled to the brim with some of the most irreverent, outrageous dialogue (much of which feels so authentic that we can imagine it as being plucked directly from real conversations), while the visual aesthetic carries a quiet simplicity that indicates how Solondz finds a lot of beauty in the most unfurnished, realistic depiction of everyday life, presenting it all through some commonplace, simplistic techniques that don’t make the film stand out as a visual achievement, but still has a harshness that feels genuinely quite captivating and disturbing.

While he is a visionary who possesses a wide range of skills, it is quite obvious to anyone who watches his work that Solondz is indebted to his actors when it comes to giving vigour to his films. He is the rare kind of filmmaker who makes use of recurring characters, but rarely collaborates with the same actor twice (with a few exceptions, but he clearly prioritizes working with different actors), and considering he carries the status of being arguably one of the most unique directors of his generations, its hardly surprising that he has lured in quite several prominent actors, who leap at the opportunity to take part in his demented flights of fancy. Based on its structure, Storytelling consists of two core groups of actors, each being used in one of the two stories. On one side, we have Selma Blair as the airheaded college student who believes she is the reincarnation of Joan Didion, but in reality is nothing more than the definition of mediocrity, who seemingly is only worth her professor’s time when she allows herself to become his object of desire. Robert Wisdom plays her professor, while Leo Fitzpatrick is her boyfriend, whose struggles with cerebral palsy are another central theme – and both actors are at the centre of some of the film’s most controversial elements, the former being the source of its attempts to address racism, and the latter a bizarre conversation around disability and how it can be used to create art. On the other hand, we have a two-hander in the form of Paul Giamatti’s down-on-his-luck documentarian, and Mark Webber’s slacker teenager, who is both a worry to his mother, portrayed by the always wonderful Julie Hegerty, and his domineering father, played by John Goodman in one of his most outrageously funny turns. The entire cast of Storytelling (including the small supporting parts) is uniformly excellent, capturing the chaotic madness of contemporary suburbia and crafting such extraordinarily unique characters that feel genuinely quite complex, even at their most perverse.

Like any of the director’s works, Storytelling is the very definition of an acquired taste – a strange, disquieting dark comedy about the darker side of suburbia and the people who reside within it, carefully curated as a series of increasingly disturbing and provocative moments handcrafted by a director whose incredulity towards the principles of perfection have always been the foundation of his films, which tend to be quite uncomfortable but also wickedly entertaining once we can overcome the initial shock. It’s a dastardly, compelling comedy about the stories we tell each other and ourselves, with particular focus on the fact that humanity is wired to express itself in very peculiar ways, and that we tend to manipulate reality in ways that sometimes don’t make sense, but still fit a particular agenda we all seem to develop over time. It’s far from as ingenious or captivating as some of his other films, but it’s nonetheless still a fascinating novelty, with its unique sense of humour and very potent set of ideas forming the foundation for something truly extraordinary. Storytelling sets out to interrogate the nature of art and how we use it to explore our surroundings and the people who live within it, as well as coming to terms with our own identities and existential quandaries, particularly in how we are all weaving a series of narratives that more often than not distort and challenge reality, something that this film quite accurately argues is much more malleable and easy to manipulate than we may imagine. Provocative and brilliantly engaging, as well as being done with a quick wit and attention to detail, the film is an immense achievement, and one of the finest entries into Solondz’s gleefully demented body of work, which has always benefitted from the frank, disconcerting style that he openly exhibits throughout this exceptionally odd but profoundly compelling work of social and literary commentary.