There’s a moment in this decidedly odd, nay Heller-esque drama, when eccentric violinist Ismael (Amalric) bemoans the quality of his dreams to his Jungian therapist, annoyed that the ladders witnessed during his slumbers are merely the result of his subconscious working in a cheap allusion to the Yeats’ poem The Circus Animals' Desertion. “It’s tragic dreaming about translation problems,” he sighs.

It’s an entirely appropriate discussion within the context of M. Desplechin’s curate’s egg of a film. Breathlessly working in sly references to Shakespeare, Joyce and Greek mythology, Kings And Queen frequently plays like a free-association game with an ADD afflicted literary genius on a coffee buzz.

Using Salinger-style vignettes, this episodic film kicks off with primary femme Nora (Devos) detailing her circumstances for the benefit of the audience. Now 35, with a young son by her late first husband, she’s about to get remarried to a wealthy businessman. Meanwhile, the aforementioned Ismael finds himself mistakenly confined to a mental-institution where helpful nurses shout “I’ll strangle you serpents’ at the patients and Catherine Deneuve delivers characteristically icy stares as a psychiatrist (through a lop-sided collagen job – miaow). This Kafka-esque nightmare is eased somewhat after Ismael and his sleazy lawyer (think Oscar Z. Acosta meets Lionel Hutz) conduct a daring raid on the hospital’s pharmaceutical department.

It soon transpires that Ismael was Nora’s second husband and in between subplots involving the inland revenue and gender differences, she catches up with him to ask for help so she might tend to the dying father with whom she shares a scarily unhealthy relationship.

Aberrant and chronologically playful scenes follow, as Kings And Queen zigzags between jump-cutting faux naturalism, high-brow comedy, dinner party farce and melodrama worthy of Douglas Sirk, or at least Footballer’s Wives. Weddings to the recently deceased, relationships with cutter chicks and oedipal denouncements are played out against a soundtrack of big, fat violins, jazz squiggles and, erm, ‘Moon River’.

Despite all these chaotic ideas and themes and musical arrangements, M. Desplechin’s entertainment maintains enough soapy coherence to ensure that even intellectually moribund Star Wars geeks wandering into the wrong screen (numbers can be soooo confusing, eh chaps?) will be able to follow the plot. That alone is a remarkable achievement for a movie this complex and tricksy.

Running Time 150mins. Cert IFI Members. Opens June 10th.