Paris, 1969: young American film editor Paul is working on troubled French-Italian sci-fi thriller Codename: Dragonfly, while at the same time 'borrowing' film and equipment to make his own personal piece of cinema verite. But when a clash between the producer and director over the ending gets the latter fired, and the flamboyant replacement director promptly breaks a leg in a car accident, Paul is thrown in at the deep end with the task of finishing the shoot and coming up with an ending - in just two days. On top of that, he's falling in love with the lead actress... or is it the character she plays?
CQ is an homage to a distinctive period in European cinema; the most obvious references are the kitschy, OTT likes of Dino de Laurentis' Barbarella and Danger: Diabolik, with actor John Phillip Law in all three movies. But it's also influenced by the French New Wave and the other films it inspired like the 1967 mockumentary David Holzman's Diary - the actor who played Holzman appears here as one of a Greek chorus of imaginary critics offering commentary on Paul's creative efforts. (Other clear links are Paul secretly filming his girlfriend Marlene in the nude as Holzman did, and her blunt response when he tells her he wants his movie to reflect the truth of his life: "What if it's boring?")
Paul is pretentious, self-absorbed and passive, all of which lead to the end of his relationship with Marlene. But despite that he's not unsympathetic; he's also insecure and uncertain, desperately wanting to tell a story without yet knowing what, or even how. Ultimately the film lets him tell two: its events enable him to devise an ending to Dragonfly that satisfies its producer's desire for action but also surprise, which in turn gives him the confidence and the industry foothold he needs to complete and release his personal art film.
The ultimate irony of CQ is how Paul is always overshadowed by another director, Jason Schwartzman's scene-stealing and Austin Powers-ish Felix DeMarco. Felix is Paul's diametric opposite - extrovert, loud, flashy, impulsive and ignorant of the technical aspects of moviemaking in favour of brash, cheap spectacle, but also successful - and as such earns his begrudging admiration and low-key loathing simultaneously. When Felix's own foolish actions take him off the picture, Paul finally gets his chance to prove himself as a filmmaker, first on Dragonfly and then his magnum opus, 69-70. But even then, he can't escape comparisons to his rival, in a moment of deadpan, crushing humour.
The film as a whole isn't biting enough to be a satire, funny enough to be a comedy or serious enough to be a drama. But when viewed as a love letter to a distinctive period of cinema, filled with detail and affection, it succeeds. You don't need to have seen Danger: Diabolik or know the background of the New Wave to appreciate the recreation of the era. CQ is ultimately as gently enjoyable and mellow as its soundtrack - appropriately enough, by a band called Mellow!
CQ is an homage to a distinctive period in European cinema; the most obvious references are the kitschy, OTT likes of Dino de Laurentis' Barbarella and Danger: Diabolik, with actor John Phillip Law in all three movies. But it's also influenced by the French New Wave and the other films it inspired like the 1967 mockumentary David Holzman's Diary - the actor who played Holzman appears here as one of a Greek chorus of imaginary critics offering commentary on Paul's creative efforts. (Other clear links are Paul secretly filming his girlfriend Marlene in the nude as Holzman did, and her blunt response when he tells her he wants his movie to reflect the truth of his life: "What if it's boring?")
Paul is pretentious, self-absorbed and passive, all of which lead to the end of his relationship with Marlene. But despite that he's not unsympathetic; he's also insecure and uncertain, desperately wanting to tell a story without yet knowing what, or even how. Ultimately the film lets him tell two: its events enable him to devise an ending to Dragonfly that satisfies its producer's desire for action but also surprise, which in turn gives him the confidence and the industry foothold he needs to complete and release his personal art film.
The ultimate irony of CQ is how Paul is always overshadowed by another director, Jason Schwartzman's scene-stealing and Austin Powers-ish Felix DeMarco. Felix is Paul's diametric opposite - extrovert, loud, flashy, impulsive and ignorant of the technical aspects of moviemaking in favour of brash, cheap spectacle, but also successful - and as such earns his begrudging admiration and low-key loathing simultaneously. When Felix's own foolish actions take him off the picture, Paul finally gets his chance to prove himself as a filmmaker, first on Dragonfly and then his magnum opus, 69-70. But even then, he can't escape comparisons to his rival, in a moment of deadpan, crushing humour.
The film as a whole isn't biting enough to be a satire, funny enough to be a comedy or serious enough to be a drama. But when viewed as a love letter to a distinctive period of cinema, filled with detail and affection, it succeeds. You don't need to have seen Danger: Diabolik or know the background of the New Wave to appreciate the recreation of the era. CQ is ultimately as gently enjoyable and mellow as its soundtrack - appropriately enough, by a band called Mellow!