Climax [2018] by Gaspar Noé

CLIMAX is a dance horror film about people destroying themselves that literally turns upside down. 

I'm not sure Climax is supposed to be entertainment, nor am I sure it's supposed to be art, which makes me wonder what it is. I guess it's for people who feel like they've seen it all and want something more, bigger, weirder, more perverse, more extreme, more original and at the same time confronting nothing that is uncomfortable, except our ability to absorb violence, distress, hysteria and self-harm.

It will certainly provoke debate, I suppose, like his films usually do, but whether that will be a valuable debate is doubtful, especially when there are much more significant, sophisticated, subtle and sensitive films that are not sensationalist but that are nonetheless confronting controversial themes, rooted in deep human feeling and integrity. This film seems embodied, with all that dance, sex and flesh, but really it is disembodied, disengaging, it pushes you away with its fear and repugnance of flesh, of intimate interactions. The bodies merely damage themselves and each other. 

However, the dance number at the beginning of the film is spectacular and full-on, a much more artful and involving demonstration of intensity and self-destruction than the ludicrous, literal and repugnant rest of the film.

120 Beats Per Minute [2017] by Robin Campillo

BPM offers a documentary-like glimpse into a very specific historic moment: the AIDS epidemic in the '90s and one group's attempts to take action to stop their friends from dying, ACT-UP Paris.

The most vividly recreated scenes are the heated group discussions in their regular meetings, the political details of activism and the urgency with which they are acting as people die. 

I found it less effective on a personal level; none of the characters seemed interesting or fleshed-out enough to engage me emotionally.  So when the film becomes intensely personal it feels like it's still just reinforcing the political urgency of the moment.

However, at a time when cinema is largely depicting sex, and specifically anal sex, as brutal and disconnected, or just being coy about sex, BPM offers a delightfully intimate and frank depiction of anal sex, that act so central to the spread of AIDS; with care, with tenderness, with communication and with condoms. 

A Gentle Creature [2017] by Sergey Loznitsa

A Gentle Creature is a bleak foray into the hopelessness of Russian bureaucracy and meanness.

The protagonist is like a camera, a naive participant being passively led deeper into a world that has nothing for her at best and will destroy her as easily as they will ignore her.

Universally repugnant characters dismiss any lingering mystique about the brotherhood of the Russian Revolution. There is nothing left but futility and corruption and a bit of surrealism if you're lucky. 

But this is what some of us crave in our cinema, a harrowing experience of some of the real pain going on in the world to break down all the illusions we futilely use to protect us from reality. Sometimes nothing is more depressing than a fake-happy movie that you can't quite believe in and that leaves you feeling hollow.

I would recommend Loveless over this as the latest cinematic depiction of the soullessness of modern Russian society, but I also cannot dismiss the determination and dignity of this film.

A Fantastic Woman [2017] by Sebastián Lelio

A woman dealing with the grief of her partner's sudden death also has to deal with his family's prejudice about her as a trans woman.

I usually find films in which people are constantly mean to each other irritating and upsetting, but in A Fantastic Woman Daniela Vega is so engaging I am fully drawn into her world.

She absorbs and channels all the prejudice and hatred that is unfairly thrown at her with utter dignity, being neither oblivious nor overwhelmed, but mustering all her strength and integrity to maintain her equilibrium and move on.

As she tries to grieve the death of her partner she is the recipient of all kinds of abuse, being called all sorts of nasty things; but Vega's presence speaks louder.  No, she is a grieving human being, she is fragile and yet robust, delicate and yet capable of rage, she is a woman, and certainly a fantastic woman with such poise and grace.

Spookers [2017] by Florian Habicht

A heartwarming mental illness horror documentary about community.

I would never attend the horror attraction Spookers and I would not have seen this film if I was not already familiar with the delightful and charming work of its director, Florian Habicht. Perhaps he has reached the limit of what his light and spontaneous approach is capable of accommodating. The only intention seems to be heart-warming and pleasant, and this seems to work when you're depicting falling in love on the streets of New York or getting excited about attending a pop concert, but when it comes to grotesque gore and violence, it is really not cute.

What I came to expect from the marketing is that the blood and horror of the Spookers attraction was to be intercut with the employees talking about how they found a peculiar feeling of family and home, self-expression and acceptance. Intercutting laughing, smoking and applying make-up with the horror element sounds harmless enough, diffusing the violence with the lightness and joy with which it is delivered. But it is extremely naïve to think that we as viewers don't respond to that imagery in primal and negative ways.

It is still up for debate whether or not horror films are effectively cathartic or desensitising to real-life violence. This film absolutely does not deal with these themes at all. Despite briefly talking about some Spookers attendees who become legitimately terrified and even showing footage of some almost catatonic person being gently escourted out, why an audience would want to expose themselves to this violent horror and terror is not addressed. It is fine to offer a fun and superficial film, an advertisement for the community of freaks who feel at home at Spookers, but the film attempts to address some of the deeper issues below the surface.

It is briefly mentioned that the site of Spookers used to be a psychiatric hospital where many patients were isolated for decades and severely mistreated and one of the patients is even interviewed. Some of the cast of Spookers have experienced severe mental health issues themselves or distressingly witnessed it in their family. The possibility is mentioned that Spookers may be ridiculing these real experiences or that it is reinforcing stigmatising myths about mental illness in general, but there is no depth whatsoever in the discussion. Once these serious and emotionally moving topics are introduced, the film just cuts back to more grotesque and vapid scenes of horror. I suppose this is intended to be amusing, but I found it rather upsetting. Having witnessed the traumatising possibilities of mental illness in my own intimate relationships, none of this is remotely amusing. It is naïve, irresponsible, superficial and just weak filmmaking.