By the looks of The Decline of the American Empire and, now, it’s equally self-absorbed sequel, The Barbarian Invasions, it’s safe to assume that Denys Arcand would probably fuck himself if he could. Rémy (Rémy Girard), the intellectual blowhard from the earlier film, is now dying of cancer. His equally insufferable son, Sébastian (Stéphane Rousseau), visits him in the hospital, causes an embarrassing spectacle before sick patients, and then begins to flash his money around in order to inexplicably ease his father’s suffering. Less concerned with the actual reconnect between father and son, Arcand lingers instead on Sébastian’s attempts to secure a private suite at the hospital and daily supplies of heroin for Rémy before then bringing together the cast of the original film for a crass reunion special.
Since Barbarian Invasions more or less envisions the demise of an empire in one man’s death, it’s not surprising that this egotistical crowd-pleaser is connecting with those who think the world revolves around them. Privileged audiences that swooned for The Decline of the American Empire should expect more of the same self-consciously witty jibber-jabber and specious political “noise” exchanged between Arcand’s motley intellectuals.
Like its predecessor, Barbarian Invasions plays out as a midlife version of American Pie, though nowhere near as honest. Unlike the dorky father figure that Eugene Levy plays in the American Pie films, the lascivious monsters from Barbarian Invasions proudly proclaim their ability to sustain an erection before subjecting their captive audience to trite political memories and shock-jocking them with offensive racial jokes (Mother Theresa is referred to as a “slimy Albanian”). Further, the heterosexuals in the film continue to pat themselves on the back for having included the gay Claude (Yves Jacques) in their circle.
In the end, Arcand isn’t critical of this self-congratulatory behavior. Rather, he celebrates it as a philosophy being squashed by a young generation that believes money can buy you everything. Because his attempts to cushion the film’s nasty sex talk with 9/11 political contextualizations are so embarrassingly “limp-wristed” (to borrow an insult from the film), Arcand is really no different than his characters: a glib, insular monster so in love with the words that come out of his mouth to ever follow through with much of anything.
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