Mystery solved? ... The Kidnapping of Michel Houellebecq. Photograph: Rafa Alcaide/EPAMichel Houellebecq, the award-winning French novelist who has left a trail of outrage in his wake over his views on sex, Islam, and western civilisation, here steps confidently in front of the camera for what can only be described as a hybrid fictionalised self-portrait. Written and directed by Guillaume Nicloux, and perhaps taking its cue from Houellebecq's recent novel The Map and the Territory, in which the writer ends up getting murdered, the film entertainingly elaborates on Houellebecq's brief vanishing act in 2011 while on a promotional tour for that very book.
Nicloux's "revelation" is that Houellebecq failed to show up for his readings because he had been abducted by three brothers - on the orders of a mysterious third party - and held for ransom in a small house in the country. Well, it's a theory, and with Houellebecq himself fronting it, who's to argue? In truth, prank though this may be, Houellebecq comes across as a surprisingly engaging figure, with a nice line in self-parody, as well as awareness of his more ridiculous gestures.
Things get off to admittedly slow start: Nicloux follows Houellebecq around as he discusses redecorating his flat, expresses his poor opinion of a friend's piano playing, and wanders the streets smoking; all the while Houellebecq's mien, lower lip thrust out, remains characteristically lugubrious. He is then unceremoniously bundled into a large metal box with a few airholes in the lid; his kidnappers are the heavyset Luc, who sports stubble and the world's worst mullet, and his two beefy, shaven-headed siblings, bodybuilder Maxime and sensitive Mathieu. Houellebecq emerges from his box in what is clearly their family home, and is chained to the bed in a bedroom that rather obviously once belonged to a small girl.
What proceeds from here on in is the exact opposite of the sweaty kidnap drama of tradition. Houellebecq proves a querulous, difficult hostage, constantly needling his captors and negotiating concessions and favours. (One running gag involves Houellebecq attempting to retrieve his cigarette lighter from Luc, who won't give it back.) Their relationship turns into a reverse Stockholm syndrome: Houellebecq's hijackers end up sympathising with his aims. Even to the extent, in a characteristically sleazy Houellebecq move, of agreeing to his request to supply a young prostitute. Houellebecq gets particularly pally with the brothers' aged parents, Dédé and Ginette, who are on site and very helpful.
All this is presented in a straight-faced, low key manner; the humour is as dry as a sauvignon blanc and the actors around Houellebecq - almost all unknowns - complement him perfectly, with no attempt at upstaging. As for Houellebecq himself: given that he's playing himself, it's hardly a stretch, but he has the relaxed air of a natural screen performer. But, as they say, perhaps best not to give up the day job.
