Overhyped

And how bold of her to skip all of the press tour except Venice! With all of this excitement, I went into the film expecting, based on the trailer, a thrilling plot, perhaps like a crossover of Deep Water (2022, dir. Adrian Lyne) and Inception (2010, dir. Christopher Nolan).

Unfortunately, what I encountered instead was girlboss techno-dystopia feminist buzzwords without substance or a cohesive plot. The cast was packed with A-list stars, but it served no purpose. Luckily, Pugh’s acting, as usual, was stunning, and she came out of the film as the absolute star; she fervently portrayed the induced insanity of gaslighting and the strength it takes to break through, especially when it’s coming from inside your own home. Otherwise, however, the film boasts weak and simplistic engagement with the incel topic that reportedly fueled Wilde’s plot conception. Furthermore, the only Black woman in the film, Margaret, played by KiKi Layne, served a stereotypical role for Black actors. She was the first woman to figure out that something was ‘off’ about their little world, and was somewhat of a Cassandra figure. Ultimately, she was simply the trope of Black women in film wherein they only exist to aid the white person on their journey. Finally, although the off-screen drama was entertaining, it ultimately corrupted the viewing experience–knowing the real-life drama changed how the viewer sees the fictional world and its own dramatic relationships.

Films That Do Live Up To The Hype

1. Portrait de la jeune fille en feu (Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Celine Sciamma, 2019) Not only does Celine Sciamma Portrait de la jeune fille en feu deserve the initial hype it received premiering at Cannes Film Festival in 2019, where it was awarded the prize for best screenplay, as well as the first ever Queer Palme for the best LGBTQ+ film, but it has already established itself as modern classic, ranking no. 30 on last year’s Sight and Sound poll for the greatest films of all time. First and foremost, what makes Portrait such a remarkable work is its contribution to queer cinema. The powerful love story between Héloïse and Marianne so perfectly captures queer yearning - it proves painfully relatable to its queer spectatorship, despite its setting in pre-revolutionary FranceI’m not going to go into why the overwhelming majority of lesbian storylines in contemporary cinema are depicted in period drama films, but here, the presentation of impossible gay love is coupled with questions of representation, politics and female solidarity, and, well, it is simply genius. Stylistically, Portrait is just as unique: it is, as Sciamma herself called it, “a manifesto about the female gaze.” Although the idea of the female gaze has already been incorporated into mainstream pop cultural discourses (“written by a woman”…) and lost some of its subversiveness, it is still a fairly new concept in film studies. Portrait employs the female gaze through the focus on representations through art and seeing the self in the other, resisting the authoritative and objectifying male gaze which has dominated and is still dominating cinema today. As such it is a pioneering work in both queer as well as feminist cinema, and will 100% stand the test of time.

2. Raw (Julia Ducournau, 2016)

Another French female director who is turning the world of arthouse cinema upside down is Julia Ducournau. While Titane (2021), arguably received more hype after its win of the Golden Palm in Cannes, her lesser known first feature-length film Raw (2016) is just as, if not more deserving of the critical acclaim it received. The film follows seventeen year old Justinea strict vegetarian, who enters into veterinary school, and discovers a taste for human flesh amidst the chaos of freshman year. Growing more and more ravenous, Raw is a tale of sisterhood, cannibalism, sex and leaving us with indelible images of sudden suicide attempts in the family home with objects you might find in any kitchen, or Anna screaming, convulsing, seizing, and miscarrying some sort of repulsive bloody liquid out of her orifices in the wet, empty U-Bahn tunnel. I truly think about the scene every time I descend into a subway station now. The subway miscarriage/nervous breakdown, and the general rigor of the film’s shooting that pushed all of the actors to the edge, actually contributed to Isabelle Adjani’s suicide attempt after shooting wrapped and the years of mental health recovery she underwent. love. This body-horror coming-of-age story is tender as it is shocking, and blends disgust with humour, empathy and a surprising amount of depth. Her visceral approach to filmmaking sets Ducournau’s cinema apart from other contemporary auteurs, and tackles topics of alienation, family ties and female sexuality in a way that speaks to (and revolts) all senses.

3. Possession (Andrzej Żuławski, 1981) (trigger

warning for mentions of suicide and miscarriage) This psychological horror film, directed and partially written by Andrzej Żuławsk, is a cult favourite. It deserves to go down in history for its perfect depiction of the descent towards insanity. To me, the plot attempts to uncover why exactly Anna (Isabelle Adjani), wife of Mark (Sam Neill) the West Berlin spy, is losing it. We are shocked over and over by the unassuming goriness caused by Anna’s increasingly unhinged behaviour,

Furthermore, two interesting layers people often analyse within the film are the East/West Berlin divide as a metaphor for divorce, as well as the relationship devolvement in general. How do we invent/create our partner rather than truly knowing who they are? How do we parent during divorce, especially when one spouse is psychotic, inconsistent, and cheating? There is also the issue of the doppelgängers, who come into being throughout the film, as representatives of the perfect man/woman/couple. We are prompted to consider this ideal (and its relationship to the political landscape of the time) versus the reality of marriage. Finally, what might be the most striking scenes of all are those involving Anna’s bizarre, oozing, tentacle sex monster hidden away on the most disgusting mattress you’ve ever seen in a second apartment. We never fully understand what exactly this tentacle monster is or where it comes from. Is it her sexuality? Her psychosis? Is it Mark? Is that what turns into his doppelgänger? Why, how, and when did it come into existence? What does it mean that it exists in an apartment in a derelict building in contrast to Anna and Mark’s modern apartment? The beauty of the film is that, despite the confusion and repulsion of the monster, its ambiguity adds to, rather than devalues, the chaos of the plot. Bartłomiej Paszylk was correct in calling Possession “one of the most enigmatic and uncompromising horror movies in the history of cinema” (The Pleasure and Pain of Cult Horror Films: An Historical Survey, page 163). If you have never felt on the verge of going crazy, watch Possession and you will understand what it’s like.