Silence, Ça Tue is a further Belgian mockumentary that comes in a similar vein to Man Bites Dog. It is likewise a black comedy posing as real footage, supposedly following a person as they bump off those in their way. It cannily suggests a Man Bites Dog that might have occurred after the Blair Witch Project, the reality tv phenomenon, the advent of digital cameras and the Dogme 95 movement. Man Bites Dog is not referenced as such (although its star Benoit Poelvoorde is namedropped at one point), but its shadow hangs over the film.

Director Christophe Lamot and his collaborators, most of whom also act as his cast, have a good deal of amusement with the ‘live’ movie concept. Some of the film has been conceived as a series of digs, if not mud throwing attacks, on the Belgian film industry. While one picked up on some of the references, this is clearly something that makes a good deal more sense if you know something about the Belgian film industry, and if you are not (ie. most of the world) feels more like an elaborate in-joke pitched only to a particular artistic circle. More amusing are the film’s jokes on the mockumentary approach and pretensions of amateur filmmakers. Particularly funny is the scene where Christophe Lamot and the crew get in a cab and he asks the cab driver to play a cd he has while the cameraman aims his camera out the window at passing scenery so they can have a credits sequence with music, or where Lamot is discussing having the musician (Sebastian Schmitz) walk around following them playing a guitar or an accordion to act as soundtrack.

The film develops an appealingly dark kick when it starts into the murders, especially the scene where Christophe Lamot pulls a gun on the big-name producer (Jo Reymen) who has lost the script he sent him. On the other hand, Silence, Ça Tue still remains down at the level of a glorified amateur film – something you could never have said about Man Bites Dog. The black comedy is extremely scattershot. The film and plot needed a good deal more editorial tightening – both in the conception and in post-production. The playing out of the concept is not quite punchy enough – sometimes it hits, other times the film drags (scenes like the venture to the party, the visit to Lamot’s mother). And the satire on the Belgian film industry fails to emerge with any kind of potent barb. All that it feels like is an amateur film where a group of friends decided to make a film without much pre-planning or idea of where everything was going. It arrives at a decidedly abrupt ending – Lamot shoots the soundman and the sound goes out, whereupon he disappears into a house to eliminate the Dardenne Brothers (two of Belgium’s most prominent and awards-friendly filmmakers, again a reference that not many people outside of Belgium are likely to get) and the film then ends on a flash of light of a gunshot from inside the house.

There are certainly some decent performances. Director/star Christophe Lamot has the cockily ruthless charm of someone constantly on the make but with an edgy underlying desperation – and it his personality that drives the film. He has handsome good looks and is easily the sort of actor you could imagine finding star potential. Also very good opposite him is the tubby Christophe Mortier. Mortier does an excellent job of playing with a longsuffering exasperation, of following orders while clearly conveying a sense of not being happy about doing so without ever coming out and saying so.