The term "celebration" refers to the act of bringing together a group of people to celebrate a specific event, such as the release of a new video game or the release of a new film. "Pacifiction," writer/director Albert Serra's latest baroque provocation, follows—but not too closely!—the smirking De Roller (Benoît Magimel), a smooth-talking French official who is more slippery—and possibly dangerous?—than he appears.


De Roller greases many wheels and has many static, mutually beneficial relationships. In "Pacifiction," he's also a human-shaped mask and a symbol of political insecurity in a former colony influenced by lingering creditors. As rumors of nuclear testing spread across the island, everyone looks to De Roller for support. He's unsurprisingly unhelpful, but how could he be? He's a comically vacant hustler who represents one hand washing the other indefinitely. De Roller's banal and unrevealing behavior eventually reflects the shallowness of his creators.


Everyone in "Pacifiction" is a storyteller, but their plotting is rarely as compelling as their collaboration's blunt seamlessness. Tahiti is depicted in dreamy medium close-ups as a nightclub where late-night discussions extend and sag past coherence. High-powered men, such as De Roller or the French Admiral (Marc Susini), whom De Roller relentlessly pursues, never fully tip their hands. They hiss and even speak down to the locals, such as the strident but chilly organizer Matahi (Matahi Pambrun) or the self-absorbed Shannah (Pahoa Mahagafanau), who says she wants to be De Roller's assistant.


De Roller's flirtatious reassurances and easygoing questions continue indefinitely. He dismisses conservative island elders while conversing solicitously with a Christian priest about low church attendance and strategies for attracting new converts. De Roller also pours a drink for a hungover Portuguese diplomat (Alexandre Melo) and then tells a hotel employee that Melo, who plays an unresponsive tourist, clearly can't handle his liquor. The diplomat's passport has also been stolen. De Roller claims that this type of thing is unusual in Tahiti, so you know it must be true.


De Roller gets along with Matahi in one scene before openly clashing with him in another. De Roller also gets cozy with Shannah, whose ambiguous gender exemplifies Serra's own fetishistic interest in haziness as a rebuke to narrative and symbolic tidiness. In the film's press notes, Serra praises himself for portraying De Roller and Shannah's "undefined relationship," which he believes is "something that has never been seen in a film before." I'm skeptical, especially since De Roller requests Shannah's contact information after referring to her as a "carnivorous beast" and a "lioness." She responds with a smile and notes her information in De Roller's little black book. Does she enjoy the spotlight? Is she fond of De Roller? It doesn't really matter, but neither does the apparent immutable stasis of this relationship.


The threat of nuclear testing adds some urgency, but only a little. And, while De Roller is a charming cypher, he isn't always the focus of "Pacifiction." It's sometimes the Admiral, Shannah, or Matahi. Typically, "Pacifiction" revolves around De Roller's insinuating questions and soothing gestures, which only serve to highlight his own powerlessness. He compares "politics" to a nightclub that is completely disconnected from reality. De Roller also says he wants to turn on the lights so he can look into "their defeated faces one by one," but he never does, and it's unclear who "they" are.


De Roller's paranoia is self-evident. Is he familiar with nuclear tests? Maybe, but not enough to stop him from silently prowling the island with a pair of binoculars in search of French Marines and/or Matahi's band of disgruntled natives. Perhaps someday there will be a conflict. Of course, not in "Pacifiction," but given the voracious emptiness lurking behind De Roller's easy patter, white linen suit, horn-rimmed sunglasses, and tart smile, you can imagine something like that happening.


Serra doesn't say much about De Roller, whose devilish behavior is only so compelling that Magimel sells it well. The point is banality, as De Roller implies when he casually dominates Matahi during a heated conversation: "You're talking to a State representative." Because De Roller is a High Commissioner for France, and his inaccessibility is a major point of "Pacification."


Or perhaps a point. "Pacifiction" takes place in yet another dark, exotic, and artificial in-between place, which is also the point. The distant hum of the surf, the woozy throb of the club's bass, and the flickering silhouettes cast by disco ball lighting. Some Hawaiian shirts and tanned skin; some erratic conversation about secret alliances and open secrets. This isn't a story, but rather an evocative collection of questions and answers. You purchase a ticket to "Pacification" and then react until the nudging stops.