Jack Plotnick is clearly looking for a toilet.
WRONG (Quentin Dupieux). 94 minutes. Opens Friday (April 19). For venues and times, see Movies. Rating: NN
The ultimate defence of the absurdist director Quentin Dupieux is that he tells you, right up front, that nothing that happens in his movies will mean anything.
Rubber, about a homicidal radial tire named Robert, opened with a monologue to that effect. Dupieux's new project, Wrong, deflates any expectations of coherence by opening with a lyrical image of a firefighter taking a dump in the road, in full view of his colleagues and a blazing house.
But Wrong then offers a story of sorts: a nondescript man's (Jack Plotnick) life starts to collapse when he wakes one morning to find his beloved dog missing. His search lets Dupieux introduce a series of characters who seem designed for maximum eccentricity - co-workers in a perpetually rainy office, the pet detective who doesn't think he needs a photo of the pooch, and so forth - but there's literally no point in the random assemblage of scenes.
At least Rubber was driven by absurdity. Wrong just defies any attempt to connect to the characters or the material. You can try to laugh at it or laugh with it, but it just squats there taking a dump in the road.