InRO Weekly — Volume 1, Issue 21.5

CANNES FILM FESTIVAL 2023
remade and series-ified Dead Ringers. Although Schmitz is
unable to build on this tradition’s rich history meaningfully, he’s
still able to at least brush against it in a way that’s dynamic and
playful. As the film progresses, Gabriel increasingly dissolves into
the identity of his twin; he wears his clothes, mimics his
grooming, and at one juncture, even sleeps with his brother’s
mistress. In a charming twist, even the viewer is left uncertain of
which brother they’re watching — our confusion musically
converging with that of the characters. This playfully leaves The
Other Laurens’ audience with compelling philosophical questions,
like whether people assume their identities or their identities
assume them — even as the relatively simple nature of Schmitz’s
film tends to collapse under the complexity of its own aspired
wit.
The Other Laurens is chock-full of compelling characters, ranging
from a greedy, American wife to an ex-Marine, to a Spanish drug
dealer, and even a geriatric, Harley-riding motorbike gang. These
characters joltingly orbit a complex, albeit obscured world,
without quite breaching its atmosphere. They are clumsily
assembled paradoxes that grate in and out of
scenes without friction, masses in constant movement with
absolutely no emotional weight. Only some of their deficiencies,
however, can be blamed on the awkward script. The quality of
acting in The Other Laurens ranges from somewhat inspired —
first-time actor Louise Leroy deserves credit for buoying the
film’s emotional depth — to downright terrible; during various
monologue scenes, it appears as if the speaker is being repelled,
if not repulsed, by the camera in front of them. This, alongside
hurdling dialogue, nonexistent tension, a hodgepodge plot, and a
Dadaist sense of causality — 9/11 is forcefully made a symbol of
the dissolution of the brothers’ relationship — leaves The Other
Laurens swimming against its own current.
And still, the film manages to find an ambling sort of rhythm
despite itself. To say it’s a success would be wrong; it just isn’t
quite a failure. The rich visuals are legitimately beautiful,
recalling Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas, or fellow Belgian Lukas
Dhont’s recent Close, while Thomas Turin’s pulsating electronic
score equally enchants, sharing a similar sensibility with that of
Dev Hynes’ work on Paul Schrader’s Master Gardener or Daniel
Lopatin’s for Uncut Gems. Even the production design is
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