This Stygian jolly, in which dumbstruck driver Nathan (Hugo Dillon) finds himself out of the mortal coil after colliding with a motorcycle, has some of the heavy-metal-album-cover energy of Bill and Ted gawping at hell’s gnarly sights. But French director and multimedia artist Quarxx’s metaphysical vista is so unredeemably bleak that you find yourself wishing for San Dimas’s finest’s “You’re dead, dude!” amazement, or at least the odd air-guitar riff.
Pandemonium squeezes out a little angry and disoriented humour at its start as Nathan, confronted with his shattered corpse, finds himself squabbling on a mountain road with Daniel (Arben Bajraktaraj), the motorcyclist he killed instantly. But when two disembodied gateways – a celestial blue forcefield and gigantic red double-doors – appear next to them, it is only the self-righteous Daniel who hears singing. So Nathan, who admits to having killed his chronically ill wife as an act of mercy, starts to panic, especially when what he can hear is screaming.
“It’s really sadistic, making us go through of our own accord,” he says, confronted with the woeful portal. Understandably, he feels as if he has a right to a second hearing – and when he finally steps through, Pandemonium looks set to pursue this promising line of moral inquiry.
In an ash-blasted nuclear winter of a Tartarus, Nathan finds he can commune with other damned souls. He delves into the histories of narcissistic problem child Nina (Manon Maindivide), outsourcing her crimes, in her gothic tale, to Tony the Monster; and the more mundane tragedy of self-absorbed lawyer Julia (Ophélia Kolb). Echoing Daniel’s words that a good man “accepts past actions and present consequences”, both stories suggest that evil is a form of dissonance resulting from lack of self-knowledge.
Unfortunately, Quarxx fails to develop the implications further, not least what they mean for Nathan’s status. The anthologised segments feel quite generic, there to service a one-note misanthropy that, as the liminal biker and motorist’s banter becomes a distant memory, increasingly dominates. There’s little time for quibbles – surely nine-year-old Nina has the right to be sent to hell’s juvie wing pending later release? – when a slavering demon wants to make Nathan his “toy”. But on top of some nice early visual touches, Pandemonium has a consistent dolorous poise.