Often, when sitting through screenings that push the limits of my cine-file patience, I wonder if I'm going to accomplish even the most basic of constructive comments. Ironically, with 'Frank', I was so knocked down with absolute glee that I don't know where to begin. Co-screenwriters Jon Ronson & Peter Straughan ('The Men Who Stare at Goats') and director Lenny Abrahamson ('What Richard Did') have constructed a story that is totally effortless in its tone and ability to hit all the right comic keys. The cast is fantastic with Domhnall Gleeson ('About Time' / 'Black Mirror') playing Jon, a small-town wanna-be musician who finds himself in the serendipitous position to fill in as the keyboardist in an art-rock band (think 'Talking Heads' crossed with 'Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds') lead by the eccentric Frank (Michael Fassbender), a troubled man whose psychosis requires that he never take off his massive-eyed, fishbowl mask–often pleading that he 'has a certificate' to prove it. The best description I can give for Fassbender's Frank is of a good-natured Hunter S. Thompson as a child with Asperger's syndrome; it's really quite a performance, especially considering it's done without ever seeing his face. Maggie Gyllenhaal's ('The Dark Knight' / 'Secretary') avant-garde Clara is underplayed and with a deadpan hilarity that never shows the slightest wink or parody. As Jon begins to introduce the prospect of fame and popularity, his already distrusting band mates become skeptical as Frank's stability and creativity begins to unravel. I'm not sure the whole audience got the joke but this by far the most fun I've had with a film this year – SXSW or otherwise.
