Guy Maddin follows the beat of some ecstatically weird drum that somehow allows him to find financing to make films that look like they were shot in 1910 and contain characters who follow the advice of the tapeworms residing in their stomach, and plots which revolve around mountain climbers and Asian vampires and, in the case of this new film, a contest held to determine which country produces the saddest music in, indeed, the entire world. Maddin loves hockey, Charlies Angels 2, resides and works in his hometown of Winnipeg, Canada, where this film is set, although it takes place in 1933 on sets that look like German Expressionism by way of Barnum & Bailey, and with this film has made what is perhaps his most commercial and deliriously enjoyable work to date. By commercial, I mean that it's a comedy, it stars Isabella Rosellini and marginally known actors like Kids In The Hall member Mark McKinnney and the beguiling Maria DeMaderios of 'Pulp Fiction' fame, and oh, and it has dialogue, even though it looks like a silent film that's been sitting on a shelf for decades.

The plot, which was adapted by Madddin and George Toles from an original screenplay be revered novelist Kazuo Ishiguro (one wonders what the author of The Remains Of The Day had in mind when he originally conceived of the story) revolves around the aforementioned competition, which is instigated by Lady Port-Huntley (Rosellini), owner of a Winnipeg brewery. Her justification for the 25,000 Depression-Era Dollar prize is that the music will depress everyone else in the world, thus furthering her beer sales. Nations quickly dispatch ambassadors to this icy city to best each other in melancholy dirges, and an old flame of Lady Port-Huntley, Chester Kent, sees the contest as a perfect opportunity to make a quick buck. He's American, you see.

He's accompanied by his lover Narcissa (Madeiros), who states that she "is not American; I'm a nymphomaniac." She's the one with the tapeworm. She also, it turns out, once had a relationship of uncertain seriousness with Kent's brother Roderick (Ross McMillan), a seriously depressed fellow who with his cello represents Siberia in the contest. And the brothers' father (David Fox) figures into the mix, too, since he's still in love with Lady Port-Huntley, even though he's also responsible for the loss of her legs. The flashback explaining that particular catastrophe occurs early in the film, and if you're new to Maddin, this will likely be the moment where you decide whether or not you love him.

Maddin uses just about every type of film he can: color and black and white, 35mm, 16mm, 8mm, and I think there's some video in there too, although it's all so textured and opticially layered, it's impossible to tell what's what. The images glisten, flowing around the edges like mercury, and it's often cut together with reckless abandon. Because of his visual approach, an odd phenomenon occurs; the film, which plot-wise is very simple, becomes far more dense, and requires some amount of concentration to keep up with. Old silent films followed elegantly simple visual rules, sometimes for the sake of the story and often limited by the technology of the time; Maddin, although he loves that style, has no limits, and his cameras whirl and spin in and out of shots in a style not unlike Baz Luhrman's. If he had made the film silent with subtitles, as he's done in the past, the plot might be nearly impenetrable without multiple viewings.

The energetic style lends itself to the comic tone of the film; despites its title and subject matter, the sadness is all undercut by the ridiculousness of everything. When Mexico presents a beautiful ballad about a dead child, it is obstructed by the radio commentators and their blithe comments (reminiscent of Fred Willard in Best In Show). The melodrama is so arch that it's impossible not to giggle at it all, although Rosellini is such a great actress that she does manage to convey a great deal of true misery when her beautiful glass legs shatter.

The Saddest Music In The World is the first of Maddin's films to see a wide release outside of Canada, and cinema lovers should rejoice. Seeing his films flickering on the big screen is a strange and beautiful thing, and an experience that's too good to pass up. It's redundant to say that his movies are like no other (although it's true). Like Quentin Tarantino and his beloved grindhouse films, Maddin takes his influences and turns them into something unique and instantly recognizable; you might mistake a film of his for something out of the turn of the century once, but never twice.