Chevalier is the latest film from Attenberg director Athina Rachel Tsangari and like other films of the loosely collected Greek New Wave, this is not a film that deals in character arcs, personal stories or even clear-cut emotions, it is instead an experiment, or more explicitly in the case of Chevalier, a game. Herd a group of characters into a rarified situation and then examine the consequences. In this situation Chevalier monitors the petty, trivial competitiveness of six upper or middle class Greek men as they sail around the Greek Islands on a luxury yacht. Joseph and Christos own an estate agency, Yorgos and the enigmatically named The Doctor work at the same clinic, while Yannis an insurance salesman has arrived with his spectrum-baiting brother Dimitri. Nothing is mentioned as to what has brought these men together, other than a shared affluent status that allows men of this position to enjoy an ego driven conspicuous consumption. Ego is what ultimately drives the film, as the men enter into a game, the titular Chevalier or ‘who’s the best in general.’ There are no rules per se, except that everything that can be critiqued and judged will be and at the end of the trip the victor, the overall best in general, will receive a shiny Chevalier ring as there prize.

There are no limits as to what is open for scrutiny, examples include, who’s the best at sleeping, Yannis for example is noted for his excellent choice of underwear, however his perfect posture is considered a little too try-hard, almost forced, so points are quickly removed. Others include cleaning, eating, choice of language, and their relationships with their own families. Tsangari has the most fun with this conceit when dealing with dumbly masculine considerations, as these cause the most harm to their already frayed egos. One competition has them seeing who can assemble flat-pack furniture the fastest, whilst another has them giving blood. As the film progresses, the men who were brash and confident at the outset, begin to crumble, wracked with nerves and paranoia. For Christos, the biggest blow is his impotency in the who’s got the best erection competition. Though later when he manages to regain his virility, his pride in sporting a self-proclaimed ‘beautiful erection’ (shown in full detail), is negated by the wide-eyed drooling mania in which he exposes himself.

Chevalier is both well performed and frequently hilarious in its dissection of weak, immature male egos and although not a single woman appears in the film, the ridiculousness of their increasingly feeble one-up-man-ship creates a loose feminist critique of the competitive, ego-driven nature of male bonding. Further developments are made in the way men wilfully demonstrate skills without prompt, such as a delightfully deranged attempt to mime and breakdance along to Loving You by Millie Ripperton, implying that men will throw themselves into things on the assumption that their inherent brilliance will carry them through. Simultaneously though the film is essentially a one-joke film, with very little in terms of escalation. There’s a suggestion that the way the men try and curry favour with each other and form alliances to gain more points, can be viewed through the slippery prism of contemporary Greek politics specifically the manoeuvring of politicians in the aftermath of the economic crash. Yet this still feels too vague to have any genuine conviction. However thanks to a very game cast and a strong visual style, the film remains a riotous piece of entertainment, where the simplicity of it’s absurd screwball premise and distinct characterisation, can’t help but mean we’ll be subjected to a Hollywood remake within the next few years.

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