‘Full Phil’ review: Woody Harrelson and Kristen Stewart relish their roles in Quentin Dupieux’s absurdist comedy

Dir/scr: Quentin Dupieux. France. 2026. 78mins

Quentin Dupieux has cornered the market in French absurdist cinema. In Full Phil, he proves that his unique schtick works pretty well in English too. The story of an American father attempting to connect with his estranged adult daughter during a trip to Paris, this unclassifiable mindfuck with its refreshingly compact running time is both totally weird and weirdly touching. It’s also another example of the director’s skill at choosing actors who fully embrace the chance to do something a bit different; Woody Harrelson and Kristen Stewart tear into their roles as the father and daughter.

The magnetism lies in this tense tightrope-walk between naturalism and absurdity

This is Dupieux’s 10th film since 2018, and one of two screening at Cannes 2026 (the other is the animation Vertiginous, which is playing in Director’s Fortnight section). Full Phil features a B-movie iguana monster among other bizzarro delights, and there are some fine laugh-out-loud moments, but lurking behind the wackiness is a wardrobe full of variously sharp, angry, resigned and melancholy reflections on the human condition. Ably supported by a tasty, surprising, textural soundtrack by German musician Siriusmo, Full Phil feels like it is offering alternative programming for the current zeitgeist. Dupieux’s own description of his film as “Emily in Paris – in hell” hits the nail right on the head, and audiences hungry for such refreshment will undoubtedly respond.

The film opens in smoky black and white. Two scientists played by actors and comedy double-act buddies Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim set out on a hunting expedition from their beautifully authentic lab straight out of a 1950s creature feature. Meanwhile, a young woman played by Emma Mackey is being chased by a man-sized reptile rendered in affectionate homage to the ineptness of low-budget drive-in FX. But this is soon revealed to be a vintage film that Stewart’s Madeleine is watching on a small screen in the luxury Parisian hotel suite she shares with her uptight father Phil.

The arrogant, depressive Phil has brought her here, at huge expense, ostensibly to reconnect. But he can’t stop himself being a bit of an arsehole, complaining about his daughter’s failure to keep to her side of the suite and a blocked toilet that he refuses to entrust to the hotel’s maintenance team. The svelte Madeleine spends almost the entire film cramming food into her mouth, ordering dish after dish from room service and taking extra patisserie supplies with her for the drive to a posh restaurant that has taken the ‘all you can eat’ concept upscale. Stewart’s commitment here is one of several reasons why Full Phil is so compelling. There’s no way she’s not actually eating that stuff.

There’s a stilted edge to some of the dialogue, and Heidecker and Wareheim ham the stiffness up in the film-within-the-film monster-movie scenes that we return to more than once. But Stewart and Harrelson make for a believable father and daughter act, despite some wordy lines. Much of the magnetism of Full Phil lies in this tense tightrope-walk between naturalism and absurdity. The balancing act becomes particularly resonant when determined hotel employee Lucie (played by Canadian actress Charlotte Le Bon) enters the suite after hearing an altercation and insists on staying as an observer, because she fears for Madeleine’s safety.

The reproduction of a painting by Italian metaphysical painter Giorgio De Chirico that we glimpse on the wall of the suite, or the fact that the hotel is called L’Argento – a nod, we assume, to horror maestro Dario – set the twin poles of what Dupieux is doing here. Full Phil is a work of art masquerading as a B-movie, a film of depth and strange fascination – one that ends in a moment of body horror that turns strangely tender. It’s difficult to think of many other contemporary cineastes who could pull that off.