Posts Tagged ‘Julia Ducournau’

Normally at this time of year you can rely on some worthy, solid, essentially safe and wholesome big movies to come out, as we begin the run-up to awards season – grand studio historical epics, biopics of the great and politically acceptable, you know the sort of thing. Maybe we’re still dealing with the long tail of the pandemic, but it seems to me there’s very little of that ilk doing the rounds – the big franchise movies from Christmas are still hanging around, along with West Side Story (this is exactly the sort of film I would usually expect to get a New Year release, but it came out in early December for some reason).

Perhaps for this reason, the arrival of a few more challenging and experimental movies in January feels like more of a strict detox than usual, and no cinematic experience currently available in cinemas is more bracingly astringent than Julia Ducournau’s Titane (in English, Titanium), winner of the Golden Palm in Cannes last summer.

Ducournau caused a bit of a stir a while back with the release of Raw, almost certainly the best French-language feminist cannibal social allegory of recent years. The new movie is bolder and more eye-opening in every way, but still recognisably the product of the same sensibility.

Here I find myself somewhat torn – it’s clear that Titane has been carefully assembled with the intention that it will have a certain impact upon the unsuspecting viewer. Going into too much detail about the film, certainly its opening movement, will almost certainly lessen some of that impact. But how to talk about it intelligibly otherwise? Hmmm.

Well: throbbing metal certainly features prominently, usually closely juxtaposed with all-too-icky human flesh – this finds its fullest expression in a sequence at a rather grim, toxically masculine car-show, with the toned and slender forms of the dancers undulating around and across the less yielding but equally enticing bodywork of the vehicles. The movie has a sort of auto-erotic fixation which has led many critics to compare it to the work of David Cronenberg.

Progressing alongside this is an equally provocative but seemingly more human storyline about a troubled young woman named Alexia (Agathe Rouselle). Finding herself needing to drop out of sight rather urgently, she takes the unusual step of disguising herself as someone who disappeared ten years earlier and claiming to be them, inexplicably reappeared. It struck me that this was possibly inspired by the real-life case of Frederic Bourdin’s impersonation of the missing Nicholas Barclay in 1997, but the movie ups the ante a bit by having Alexia choose to steal the identity of a young man named Adrien.

Here, if not earlier (and, to be honest, it probably was earlier), the film casts loose from the anchor of reality in a way likely to challenge most viewers. Adrien’s father Vincent (Vincent Lindon) turns up and is allowed to take Alexia home with him that very night. She has clearly received only the most cursory of medical examinations (for reasons which should be obvious), despite being in obvious need of attention, and throughout the rest of the film the police show no interest in questioning ‘Adrien’ about what happened to him or where he’s been for the last decade. It is, in short, not remotely credible as a naturalistic piece of storytelling – but then by this point we have already had a sequence in which someone has sex with a car (that preposition is not a typo), so you could certainly argue that Titane parts company with naturalism and credibility very early on.

This continues, as we learn more about Vincent’s job as the local fire captain. The fire departments of southern France seem to be run rather like feudal seigneuries, based on this film: Vincent announces to the other firemen that ‘Adrien’ will be joining the crew, despite not having interviewed for the job and not having any proper references – I believe this is known as le nepotisme in France. Slowly, the twisted relationship between Alexia and Vincent develops – but it’s obvious that this state of affairs can’t last…

This warped psycho-drama isn’t a million miles away from the kind of thing I could imagine appearing in a drama by someone like Almodovar, but this is very clearly a horror movie, and an uncompromising one. The opening movement is a succession of set pieces which seem designed to provoke a visceral response from the audience. I went along to the lunchtime showing at my local cinema and, as you would, took my lunch. When it seemed like the film had finally calmed down a bit, I relaxed and reached for my bag.

In the time it took me to eat a couple of sandwiches and a biscuit, the film managed to cram in a sado-masochistic lesbian sex scene, someone doing something incredibly icky and intimate to themself with a knitting needle, three graphically violent murders, and two semi-naked women grappling almost unto the death. This was some going. I should also mention that the film features as a motif grisly things happening in bathrooms – almost to the point where just the sight of a tap made me rather twitchy.

I’m probably making it sound like Titane is nothing more than a violent assault on the senses with only a perfunctory excuse for a plot to hold the various set-pieces together – almost like an art house, critically-acclaimed version of a film like Hellraiser II. As noted, it is openly and intentionally non-naturalistic in its plotting, and downright surreal and fantastical in some of its story elements. But there is more to it than just provocation and a desire to shock; it deals seriously with issues of identity, gender, and grief; in a weird way it is a much more humane film than it probably sounds. The performances from Rouselle and Lindon are remarkable – Garance Marillier from Raw has a supporting role on this occasion. (There is also a carefully-deployed element of black comedy which pops up at the moments you would least expect.) Nevertheless, it is a movie that many people will likely find too repellent and extreme to fully engage with. For everyone else, this is a startling, powerful, and memorable film.

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Since the heyday of Roger Corman there has been a pleasing synergy to the fact that horror movies have traditionally offered a reasonably safe route to decent box-office returns on a relatively small budget, thus allowing writers and directors near the beginnings of their careers the chance to make movies about quite challenging and sophisticated ideas, provided they respect the conventions of the genre. The early films of George Romero and David Cronenberg are full of social commentary and metaphorical power, it’s just that this is to some extent obscured by the fact they are apparently just exploitation movies about zombies and parasitic infection.

The question is to what degree the same is true of Julia Ducournau’s Raw, which appears to be an entry into one of horror’s least respectable sub-genres, but clearly has other things to say for itself. Garance Marillier gives a remarkable performance as Justine, a bright young student off to university for the first time. She is studying to be a vet, as is her older sister Alex (Ella Rumpf), who’s at the same college as her. Justine has been raised as a staunch vegetarian by her parents, but she is unsettled to discover that Alex seems to have lapsed a little into the ways of meat-eating.

The initiation rituals for new students at the college are extreme and debauched, and include the newcomers having to eat a raw rabbit kidney. Justine demurs, as you would, but without anyone to support her principled stance, and the threat of social ostracism looming, goes ahead and swallows the bunny bits anyway.

Her attempts to come to terms with the new opportunities, threats, and temptations of college life are somewhat complicated by the unexpected way in which her body reacts to eating raw flesh. Initially there is a rather grisly rash, and after this fades Justine finds herself gripped by a strange hunger that drives her to steal meat from the canteen, gnaw on raw chicken straight from the fridge, and even contemplate much darker sources of sustenance…

So, yes, this is the French-language feminist cannibal movie of which you may have heard, and (wait for it) fairly strong meat it is too. Cannibalism may not be your thing at the cinema; I can understand that, I’m not an unconditional fan of this sort of thing myself. It almost goes without saying that this is not a film for the faint-hearted or weak-stomached – there is gore aplenty, and while it is not spectacular it is certainly intense. That said, the film is uncompromising on all fronts – quite graphic sex and other bodily functions also feature – and, to be honest, the sequence which made me squirm the most involved one character giving another a not entirely competent bikini wax.

The fact the film isn’t just about bloody flesh is an indicator that at heart it isn’t, as I had feared, just some piece of heavy-handed agitprop on behalf of militant vegans. There seems to be a lot of this sort of thing doing the rounds at present and I’m not sure I really need to see more of it; I’m aware that from a certain point of view eating meat is ethically indefensible (certainly if you have any dealings with the mainstream meat industry), but, well, I’m told that the human capacity to simultaneously hold numerous mutually incompatible beliefs at the same time is one of the keys to our success as a species, so why not make use of it: animal welfare is a significant issue, but some animals do taste delicious. Inasmuch as the film is actually about vegetarianism, it’s because this is something which initially marks Justine as an outsider and thus makes her socially vulnerable. One of the things the film is about is the demands on young women to conform to certain standards of behaviour, whether they want to or not, and the ugly double standards that are often involved if they try too hard to fit in.

Cannibalism as a metaphor for peer pressure is an interesting approach to take, but Ducournau makes it work, and also makes it clear what a tightrope young women are on at this time in their lives – transgression of any kind can see them ostracised, ridiculed on social media, or worse. The urge to try and disappear must be strong. The director doesn’t hold back in making the student culture of the college just as repellent as anything that Justine’s little eating disorder drives her to (her cannibalistic tendencies are implicitly compared to bulimia at one point), and makes it very clear just how vulnerable an unworldly young woman like her is, surrounded by so many new temptations.

One thing that possibly weakens the film is the way that Ducournau attempts to insert another layer of metaphor, making Justine’s desire for flesh figurative as well as literal: the new world she is plunged into finds her having to contend with feelings for her room-mate (Rabah Nait Oufella) – she becomes jealous, possessive of him, finds these powerful new emotions difficult to deal with. But what does she really want to do to him? Suffice to say the ensuing scenes are powerfully sensual, if not completely comfortable viewing, and the film is strong enough to survive this slightly split focus. It also manages to accommodate a closing scene which largely seems to be there to provide a startling and memorable twist ending, which while not quite feeling like a complete cheat, does feel somewhat like it’s drifted in from a film which is much more of a black comedy than this one.

I wasn’t sure quite what to expect from Raw, but I was impressed with what I got – in an odd way it does have that clinical, queasy feeling of a very early Cronenberg movie, but the skill with which the director handled picture and soundtrack (Jim Williams’ score is also highly impressive) almost put me in mind of… well, I almost hesitate to say this, but in some ways Raw resembles the cannibal horror film that Stanley Kubrick never made. If you only go and see one feminist cannibal horror movie in French this year, Raw should be your choice – always assuming you have the stomach for it.

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