Presented within the IFFR’s Bright Future line-up, King Baby is a story about a kingdom created from scratch and composed of a king (Graham Dickson), a servant (Neil Chinneck) and a wooden queen. It’s a fictional kingdom in the heart of Europe which is obviously ruled over by men and which presupposes a kind of femininity onto which the latter can project their volatility and frustrations. It’s on this straightforward premise - which sometimes follows and sometimes twists Propp’s rules on fairytale narration - that the duo known as Kit&Arran (Kit Redstone and Arran Shearing) have devised a comedy of continual linguistic and visual invention, which owes much to the classic and experimental theatrical setting from which the directors hail.

The duo ultimately draw upon the English literary canon, going so far as to debunk and parody their source, with nods to Shakespearean acting pomposity, Harold Pinter (whose work formed the basis of Joseph Losey’s The Servant) and George Orwell, alongside film references and sacrosanct parody of the countless, antiquated royal dramas which are now littering the audiovisual landscape. There are also hints of Monty Python, the folk horror inherent to The Wicker Man and the absurd comedy of offbeat comics like Alastair Green, especially when it comes to facial expressions - an example of excessive English mannerism which is also exalted by the camera’s many close-ups (it’s a movie, after all).

But the truly brilliant idea in this film is the creation of a queen whose femininity wholly conforms to the most misogynistic stereotypes in existence, complete with worrying identity projections which change depending on whichever king the queen marries. It’s a diabolical game in which the female figure is nothing other than an object, subject to the whims of two opposed, mirror-imaged, but nonetheless noxious men. The film’s criticism of the many forms power can take isn’t only highlighted in the ridiculous hunting trips depicted or the extreme subservience displayed towards the king, but in the characters’ ability to step in and out of their roles within seconds. In addition to creating a comical effect, this continual displacement opens up spaces for reflecting upon the legitimacy of the powers that be, and people’s willingness to submit to them, exposing the overwhelming fragility of the foundations on which authority is based.

Classically shot – and clearly influenced by the theatrical nature of the text - King Baby indulges in a few dreamlike moments, which are also borrowed from the existing canon (Buñuel, obviously, but first and foremost Lynch); scenes reminiscent of the esoterism inherent to any power, its destructive force, its gradual attrition. But despite the countless absurd situations depicted in the film, Kit&Arran seem scared to push themselves further and create a language of their own, though this is the only drawback in a film which is, nonetheless, brilliant right up until the end, which isn’t always an easy task in the field of political satire. And political King Baby really is, starting with its title which denounces the linguistic regression and childish tendencies of the modern age.

King Baby is produced by British firm Vaccum Theatre and French outfit Ghosts City Films, while international sales are entrusted to The Right Ones.