The Paragon

Quirky comedy-dramas require quirky characters, and micro budget New Zealand psychic warfare urban fantasy The Paragon has its fair share of them – psionic witches, dimension-hopping aspiring dictators, the usual. However, it revolves around a man who can only be described as an arsehole. Dutch (Wall, Shadow in the Cloud) is an ex-tennis pro who wants to acquire mental powers so he can find the person who ran him over and smash their teeth in with a racket. He is, however, still an arsehole, an unendurably small-minded schmuck who isn’t really interested in using his powers for good or evil. That’s unfortunate for Lyra (Noble). She’s the paranormal seer (you can tell by the crushed velvet cloak) who takes him on as an acolyte of sorts. She’s got a universe to save from her megalomaniac brother, Haxan (Brugh), and she’s tied to this dickhead who can’t look beyond his own self-interests.

The Paragon’s comedy comes from having a completely ordinary bloke who is fundamentally disinterested in saving the cosmos. The vague annoyance and confusion in Lyra’s voice is the key, a delightful exercise in understatement that’s matched by Dutch’s solipsistic misanthropy. It's almost as if writer/director Michael Duignan is rebelling against his experiences on directing episodes of Power Rangers Dino Charge and Power Rangers Ninja Steel, where everything is so overblown and hyperbolic. There are some traces of their low budget tokusatsu lunacy in Dutch and Lyra’s adventures in hyperdimensional consciousness, but it’s played out with a droll restraint that can be a little much.

There is an endearing subtext going on, as Dutch’s psychic awakening becomes secondary to his path to becoming slightly less of an arsehole. The exquisite awkwardness when actors Noble and Wall clash is a lot of what keeps The Paragon entertaining, even if it seems off-putting to begin with. If you end up on their psychic wavelength then you’ll vibe with them, but it’s all so low-key that it can be a calming drone.

Duignan pulls off a psychotropic miracle for less than the catering budget for the pitch meeting of your average blockbuster, and in that context The Paragon is a fun little diversion. If you’re OK with the uniform for Haxan’s cultists being see-through rain ponchos, and much of the action taking place in an empty volleyball court, then there’s a certain minimalist charm. It’s as if Hot Fuzz was under the cultural and chemical influence of Sixties and Seventies psycho-pharmaceutical mind expansion conspiracy fantasies rather than Eighties action flicks and real ale.