What works best for "Arizona Dream" is that its lunacy is so liberating. Mr. Kusturica often favors a broad, rowdy mess over anything more structured, but he can galvanize his actors in captivatingly weird ways. Ms. Dunaway hasn't seemed this girlish since she was a girl. (She's supposed to be playing the one bona fide nut in the film, but that's a fine distinction.) Mr. Depp, no stranger to risky roles, this time cheerfully wears a white skirt around his neck while imitating a chicken. Ms. Taylor sits and plays the accordion with scene-stealing ferocity, and has no trouble explaining that she'd like to be reincarnated as a turtle. There may be a few too many verses of "Besame Mucho" in the background while all this unfolds, but restraint is not on anyone's mind.
"Did I really make a film that they couldn't even release?" Mr. Kusturica asked rhetorically two weeks ago, only hours before he won his second Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival (for "Underground"). No, but he didn't exactly make it easy. In its clumsily truncated form, adapted to video dimensions that butcher the director's wide-screen compositions, "Arizona Dream" verges on the demented, impervious to any conventions of cookie-cutter film making. But even at its full length, showing off a more seductive rhythm and the buoyant humanism that is this director's calling card, it remains as ripe a subject for therapy as for criticism.
Imagination is a gift. It bestows power, insight and the ability to dream. It takes courage to dream on a big scale, which is what Emir Kusturica does in Arizona Dream, a wonderfully absurdist comedy...