In today’s world, we’re less in control of our needs and desires than ever before, with what we spend our money on or invest our time into becoming increasingly dictated by algorithms and invasive data mining. Strawberry Mansion is a film that investigates this dystopian idea in a playful and inventive way, using the surreal nature of dreams and the power of our subconscious to modulate between reality, fantasy, time, place and even different cinematic mediums. Unfortunately, the film isn’t entirely successful in its exploration but going down the warm, fuzzy rabbit hole with it still makes for a unique, colourful and sensory experience.
The brainchild of Kentucker Audley and Albert Birney, Strawberry Mansion takes place in the near future but uses DIY technology and a mid-century aesthetic, possibly referencing the suited ad men and the dawn of mass consumerism that Mad Men made us so familiar with. At the core of the story is bland, self-sacrificing tax man James Preble (played by Audley) whose dreams have become constricting and repetitive thanks to constant interference from product placement. This is a world where your dreams are not only invaded by subliminal advertising but also taxed by men like Preble for each element they include. We see the direct effect of Preble being brought a bucket of fried chicken and Coke in his dream when the very next day, he feels compelled to purchase the same brand of junk food in real life, unaware of why.
Everything changes for Preble, however, when he’s sent to audit decades’ worth of undeclared dream tax from manic pixie dream grandma Bella (Penny Fuller). He’s none too impressed by her at first but gradually, her ramshackle artist’s house, fruit-loving tortoise and dream-disrupting invention start to win him over. As their fantasies and lives intertwine via the process of him observing and pricing up the contents of her dreams, he steadily succumbs to the youthful version of her he gets to know from decades past, complicating both his job and his understanding of the function of dreams and desire.
Visually, the hazy, film print quality of the picture and careful attention to colour in every frame – the colour pink and strawberries appear throughout – help to envelop the audience in the cosiness of sleep, aided by its languid pace and the stiltedness of conversation. Live-action sometimes blends into puppetry and stop-motion animation, again intended to mimic the seemingly random nature of dreaming – a style that reminded me strongly of French filmmaker Michel Gondry; The Science Of Sleep being particularly apt here but also, thematically, Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind in the tangled nature of a couple falling through dream and memory in search of one another.
Strawberry Mansion might actually be a little too wrapped up in its own fantasies, in fact, with its depiction of corporate greed and critique of consumerism over real, human connection quite heavy-handed. The Powers That Be quickly turn into literal pantomime characters with no redeeming qualities whatsoever, unlike the more subtle nuances of Preble and Ella. Then again, these aren’t entirely out of place considering the film has a strong streak of childlike wonder in its use of colour, nostalgia, innocence and play; fairytale and adventure stories feed frequently into its flights of fancy. But while amusing, its unravelling threads struggle to weave together in a way that’s entirely cohesive or satisfying.
With imagery and themes that are engaging – if not a little too easy to lull you into an actual dreamscape – Strawberry Mansion is a melting pot of ideas that bubbles with sweet and sour charm and intrigue, just not quite fulfilling enough to be worth a second helping.
Dirs.: Kentucker Audley & Albert Birney (12A, 91 mins)
Strawberry Mansion is out Fri 16 Sep
words HANNAH COLLINS
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