The world is coming to an end. There are warning sirens, rain of ashes, bomb/missile attacks, news of nuclear explosions in Iran, Moscow and the US shooting down any trans-Atlantic planes. Bodies pile up on the streets, caused by viruses, diseases and just total mayhem.
Robinson (Mathieu Amalric) is having a sort of mid-life crisis in the middle of all the chaos. He fell in love with an exotic girl Laetitia (androgynous Omahyra Mota, a Dominican fashion model) while staying in picturesque seaside town of Biarritz. As this chaotic film even more unravels with flashbacks, we get to learn how the tumultuous relationship has been as they travel from Spain, Taiwan, Canada to Paris. On the way to find Lae in a long winded road trip through Pamplona to finally emptied out Paris, Robinson gets plenty of sex and some more. I mean, at this point it's pretty useless to describe his arduous Homeric pornographic journey filled with beautiful landscapes and people in bio-hazard suits.
This is a film equivalent of buying a Porche to cure your midlife crisis. It's all hoity-toity excess with exotic locales and fine wine and opera. And you can never tell if this is all tongue-in-cheek (it got some laughs from the audience here and there). Even though it's super silly, I have to say I was entertained by it. Les Derniers Jours du Monde feels like a bastard child of Wim Wenders's somewhat somber and spiritual Globe trotting sci-fiUntil the End of the World and Bertrand Blier's sardonic and playful romp Merci la Vie. Amalric is great fun to watch. He carries this crazy chaos of a film and manages it from spiraling out of control and keeps our attention on the screen with his wide eyes and cynical grin that say "the hell I do?"
