Defiance

‘Love’ pushes the boundaries of sex in film; ‘Suffragette’ depicts a revolution

Love

Argentine-born provocateur Gaspar Noé has made a career out of transgressive and often difficult cinema, the pinnacle of which is still “Irreversible”—a film that seems determined to snuff out any hope that life has meaning or purpose. The stomach-churning cinematography (aided by riot control horns buried in the soundtrack meant to induce nausea in crowds), with its camera spiraling in a seemingly constant take through a devastating love story told in reverse, is a horrific roller coaster ride. From the brutal, 12-minute rape of Monica Bellucci’s character (a scene so unwatchable it prompted mass walk-outs at Cannes), to the film’s heartrending last scene (the chronological beginning of the narrative), “Irreversible” makes “Requiem for a Dream” feel like afternoon popcorn material.

With his latest, “Love,” Noé offers us an odd exchange. He’s made his most narratively accessible and emotional film while also giving us some of the most artistic scenes of real sex in mainstream cinema history. And he shot it in 3D. Because, provocateur.

The story is simple. Murphy (Karl Glusman) is an American film student in France who falls in love with the emotionally chaotic Electra (Aomi Muyock). Enjoying life in a sanctuary of sexual chemistry, they invite their new neighbor, Omi (Klara Kristin) into their bed. Which, of course, destroys Eden forever.  

We find Murphy living with Omi after they’ve had a child. He’s miserable, wracked with regret, and desires nothing more than to be with Electra again. She’s gone missing for weeks and Murphy is desperate to find her. Noé’s script unfolds in equilateral scenes that reveal Murphy’s obsession with getting back to Eden, in naive defiance of all the moments where everything went wrong.

Filmmakers from Catherine Breillat (“Romance”) to Paul Verhoeven (“Spetters”) boldly crossed the unsimulated sex line decades ago, though that is largely a reflection of European mores. Our Puritan roots still make us uncomfortable with realistic depictions of copulation, not to mention the politically correct idea that explicit sex on film only serves the male gaze. That’s unfortunate, and retrograde, because the beauty of “Love”—aside from Benoît Debie’s gorgeous cinematography, Noé’s brilliant editing, sublime direction, and the emotional rawness that it all evokes—is in how it pulls us into those intoxicating, ephemeral moments we’ve all probably (hopefully) experienced. Lust is a splendid, if fleeting, thing, an idea which Noé hammers home with a frankness that feels new and vital. 

“Love” is ultimately about the entropy of romantic hubris. It’s also a reflection of its maker. Noé names Murphy’s unwanted baby (an irony considering Omi’s “pro-life” stance) Gaspar; he also plays Electra’s not-so-ex lover. And dialogue like Murphy’s “I want to make movies out of blood, sperm, and tears” pretty much describes the filmmaker’s entire filmography. Noé has made an updated New Wave film in the classic sense—in love with cinema, sex, youth, and France. This is his rude, money-shot answer to Bertolucci’s sentimental erotica, “The Dreamers.”

But Noé’s eye for the explicit extends far beyond the prurient, and into the fugue of its title. His predilection for evocatively shifting time remains, revealing his story in onion layers of dreamlike hedonism and aftermath, of which the catalyst (the three-way between Murphy, Electra, and Omi) seems to be the loving answer to “Irreversible’s” crushing rape—while a defining orgy reclaims Noé’s emotional nihilism. The explicitness isn’t pornography, though you could argue that it is. Everyone is autonomous. Even the audience. They all serve a larger, equally crushing idea. The lucid dream of hope, lust, jealousy, anger, and regret. Which might be the ultimate definition of love.

“Love” is available for digital rental or purchase on Amazon Video and Vimeo On Demand.

Suffragette

Men are assholes. I guess that’s not news, though “Suffragette,” the new fictionalized telling of the women’s suffrage movement in 1900s England, is an earnest reminder. 

Contemporary examples of the kind of asshole I’m talking about are everywhere. Troll a “men’s rights” website, or just check out the Republican debates. And look closely—these guys are reflections of how things used to be, reminders of the patriarchal hegemony embedded within a supposedly free civilization, one where “all men are created equal.”

But as bad as things are now with the conservative war on women, and for women’s rights worldwide, it’s easy to forget that they used to be much worse, even in so-called advanced societies. Until the early 20th century, women in the U.S and U.K. had no vote and no real power—commanded to labor when poor, or comfort when not, but always with a mandate to bear kids that they had no parental rights over, especially if the marriage dissolved. They lived in a caste system reinforced by the disapproval of the herd and made legitimate by the law. Those women who agitated were treated as criminals.  

Which makes you wonder, in 2015, what these politicians (and their constituents) are really nostalgic for.

Maud Watts (Carey Mulligan) works at an industrial laundry by day and tends to her husband Sonny (Ben Whishaw) and their young son (Adam Michael Dodd) the rest of the time. Literally born in the laundromat, she’s been working for practically her entire life at a lesser wage and for longer hours than her male counterparts, while under the aegis of a boss who is likely a pedophile.

But a movement is fomenting around Maud—a movement she’s swept into when, by happenstance, she finds herself at a Parliament hearing on the right to vote, testifying on behalf of the Suffragettes about their awful working conditions. 

Maud, who comes off like Switzerland at first (i.e. neutral), eventually risks herself to help the Suffragettes after she witnesses their arrests (and the sometimes violent retribution) overseen by Inspector Steed (Brendan Gleeson). Steed is an indiscriminate enforcer who is basically using the Nuremberg defense to justify his methods.

Emboldened by the movement, Maud engages in “Fight Club”-esque acts of vandalism with her co-workers under the leadership of Edith Ellyn (Helena Bonham Carter, in a bit of meta-casting), which escalate in boldness until they finally reach the attention of the international press, and the King himself.

Written by Abi Morgan (“Shame”) and loosely based on actual events, “Suffragette” is an effective, often enraging film that feels emotionally engaging yet lightly sketched. It’s as if we’ve strolled into the final act of a three-act play. Yes, we know why this story is important, but you have to bring some familiarity with you. Most of the characters are fictionalized except for, notably, Meryl Streep’s Emmeline Pankhurst and Natalie Press’s Emily Davison, whose ultimate role in capturing the world’s attention changed everything.

Sarah Gavron’s direction is often lovely, eliciting some great performances, among which Mulligan and Carter (both flirting with Oscar) are the obvious standouts, along with Anne-Marie Duff as Maud’s bestie, Violet. She achieves a tangible and textured period atmosphere and maintains a propulsive pace, honing in on the drama with a fluidly assertive ease. 

I was taken by surprise at how immediate and still-sadly-relevant “Suffragette” is. It’s a rallying cry to a battle that in many ways never ended.

For more from Joe, read his reviews of "Beasts of No Nation" and "Steve Jobs."