‘The Congress’ is a beautiful and challenging film, choc full of clever ideas and insights about both the film industry and the nature of perception, says Peter Roche.

When a director delivers a commercial and critical hit, they can often get carte blanche for a following, larger-budget project. This lets them push boundaries and make a film that defies commercial sense (and sometimes taste), for better or worse. Such is the case with The Congress, director Ari Folman’s follow up to 2008’s Waltz with Bashir, an animated quasi-documentary about the director’s own search through his repressed memories of his experiences in the Lebanon War in 1982. While his latest film certainly carries many similar themes and ideas from his last, it also draws influence from The Futurological Congress, a 1971 Polish science-fiction book.

Robin Wright (played by Robin Wright), is an aging actress relegated to the periphery of fame. A teenage beauty queen who catapulted to stardom with The Princess Bride, the world was her oyster, or so it seemed. But after making many bad decisions about which roles to play and which men to date, she has squandered her bounty. In addition her son is afflicted by a rare and incurable genetic condition that will lead to his eventual, and complete, loss of both vision and hearing.

With her back against the wall Robin is offered a mysterious new type of contract from an executive at Miramount studios, the name being a portmanteau of Miramax and Paramount. For a one-off payment he wants to scan Robin in her entirety: her voice, her body, her face, her laugh, and her tears. This scanned version of her will then be called Robin Wright and owned by the studios to use as they so wish. Having no other options she agrees. And besides, Keanu Reeves and Michelle Williams have also signed on.

Flash forward 20 years and Robin’s contract with Miramount is running out. Her digital image has been made into the world’s biggest star and her likeness is everywhere, from billboards to blimps. Unlike her binary self she has aged, and nobody seems to recognise the real Robin Wright anymore. She has been invited to attend The Futurological Congress as Miramount’s guest of honour, and also to discuss signing a new contract. However the congress is in ‘a restricted animated zone’ and to enter you must inhale a drug that makes everything appear animated. And as soon as our protagonist enters the animated zone, sense and reason fly out the door, as does a plot in any conventional sense.

The film is brave and bold, if not brilliant. Wright’s performance is a career best, while Harvey Keitel (as hger agent) is similarly excellent. The plot is loaded with ideas, covering topics ranging from privacy and ownership, to the nature of perception and reality. What are we allowed to own and to sell? Is there any objective reality in a consumerist world? Robin’s ill son, Aaron, cannot hear in the way that others do. As a result when someone says the word ‘storm’, he hears ‘alone’; instead of ‘near’, he hears ‘fear’. He perceives the world differently than we do, but how do we know our perception is right?

While the film asks very difficult questions, it also has a sense of humour. It constantly pokes fun at itself, such as when Robin refuses to act in sci-fi films, and aside from the cast it features animated cameos from Michael Jackson, Tom Cruise, Grace Jones and even Jesus Christ himself. And if the plot, or lack of a plot, becomes all too much, you can gaze in wonder at the animated splendour.

However, despite its many virtues The Congress has a lack of focus or structure that can be frustrating. Its flowing form allows ideas and motifs to float unhindered by convention, but sometimes you just want to know what the hell is going on.

Still, Folman paints a beautiful animated picture of a dystopian future. The first half will appeal to even casual fans of the sci fi genre, while the animated second half takes a bit more patience. However those who persevere will find a uniquely challenging film and one that sticks with you long after the credits stop rolling, which is a rarity in a time when studios have perfected the formula to make rapidly digested and and just as easily forgotten flicks.

The Congress is a sure-fire cult classic. It’s in cinemas now.