German actor Franz Rogowski is a captivating on-screen presence and can impress with turns across many different languages, and his latest portrayal sees him take the lead in the feature debut from Italian director Giacomo Abbruzzese. A war movie of sorts, Disco Boy is loosely inspired by real events and characters in the filmmaker’s life and tells the stories of troubled Foreign Legion combatant Aleksei (Rogowski) and fearless guerrilla warrior Jomo (Morr Ndiaye) as their paths intertwine by chance in battle.
An ambitious art piece that defies conventional structure and narrative, Abbruzzese allows his long-awaited passion project to be driven by mood and atmosphere rather than any semblance of a traditional plot. Beginning with Aleksei’s treacherous trip from his native Belarus into France with friend Mikhail (Michał Balicki) on a bus full of rowdy football fans, the film’s opening chapter is fraught with mysterious tension. It then shocks and pivots its perspective as tragedy strikes, abruptly landing us in the wilderness of the Niger Delta with Jomo and his sister Udoka (Laëtitia Ky), the resistance fighter siblings sharing a bizarre discolouration in one eye.
Drawing comparisons between the strict disciplines of soldiers and dancers, the third and final act delves full throttle into neon abstraction; an aesthetic with shades of arthouse visionary Nicolas Winding-Refn spliced with Mati Diop’s supernatural Atlantics goes into overdrive. The bold cinematography is amplified by a pulsing electronic score from its composer known only as Vitalic and while it engages the senses, the beguiling experience will leave audiences with more questions than answers.
Minimal in dialogue but maximalist in its hypnotically striking style, the impact of Giacomo Abbruzzese’s challenging thriller Disco Boy hinges on the expressive central performance from Franz Rogowski. A former dancer himself, his graceful movement embodies the fluidity of the film, interpretative and open to interpretation in its dealing with themes of identity and despair.
Cinema Perspective 