A swoon-worthy opening immediately places Bruno de Almeida’s latest film in a world that seems to exist only in cinema: A suave, wavy-haired Michael Imperioli steps out onto an empty, neon-lit street, as an Italian ballad plays in the background. “Cabaret Maxime” (also the name of the nightclub Imperioli’s character, Bennie Gaza, runs) takes place during an indefinable era, in an indefinable place. The setting looks like it could be any number of European cities, though it was shot in Lisbon with all English-speaking actors.
The fine grain of the 35mm film beautifully complements the old-school methods of Bennie, who romanticizes the ways of the past and prefers bizarre burlesque numbers (tigers, aging chanteurs and plus-size exotic dancers) that would never show up in slick strip clubs. That kind of establishment moves into the red-light district where Cabaret Maxime resides, and when the competition’s sleazy owners start talking about social media marketing, they pose a threat to Bennie’s way of doing things.
Bennie never steps onstage but is given the most difficult act — juggling the mounting pressures. With his cabaret imperiled by gentrification, he tries to keep all his performers happy. Among them are John Ventimiglia, like Imperioli, an alum of “The Sopranos” (Artie the restaurateur) and Ana Padrão, Bennie’s jealous, volatile wife, Stella, who breaks down, scribbling her entire face with lipstick, bringing to mind Diane Ladd in David Lynch’s “Wild at Heart.” A Lynchian enigma lurks about de Almeida’s film, and there is a romantic pulse reminiscent of the work of Jacques Demy. Despite the classic David-versus-Goliath narrative, the story is never as mesmerizing as the grotesquely glam stage numbers and Imperioli’s illuminated face watching them, glowing with pride.
Cabaret Maxime
Not rated. Running time: 1 hour 34 minutes.
Source: Movies - nytimes.com
