“CLIMAX” My rating: B-
97 minutes | MPAA rating: R
“Climax” may be the most accessible film yet from cinematic evil genius Gaspar Noe (“I Stand Alone,” “Irreversible,” “Enter the Void”). Which is not to say that it is easy movie watching.
“Climax,” like most of Noe’s output, is a celebration of perversity.
It opens with the closing credits (???) and an overhead shot of a scantily clothed and bloodied woman struggling through a field of snow; then shifts into documentary mode before becoming an energetic dance film and ultimately deteriorating into a paranoia-fueled nightmare.
A title card informs us that the story was inspired by actual events in 1996…but I’m not buying that notion any more than I believe “Fargo” was actually based on a real crime.
For 10 or so minutes we get talking-head documentary interviews with a bunch of young French dancers who have auditioned for a special troupe preparing to tour the U.S.A. With few exceptions they lack formal training; most appear to be kids (all races and ethnicities) who learned their moves on the streets and sidewalks. Some of them are eager and ambitious; others a bit jaded and wary of their newfound legitimacy.
Noe then cuts to a long (like, 15 minutes) single-shot rehearsal in which the youngsters do an elaborate routine that allows for plenty of individual riffing (lots of spectacular hip-hop: locking, popping, cranking) all set to a deafening and hypnotic techno beat.
It’s exhilarating and wildly entertaining, and when it’s over the viewer — like the dancers themselves — is spent and ready for a bit of r&r.
Romain Guillermic, Sofia Boutera
The choreographer, Emmanuelle (Claude Gajan Maull), has provided a table filled with finger food and big bowls of sangria; she urges the young performers to chill out for the rest of the evening. She also allows her son Tito (Vincent Galliot Cumant), who appears to be about 7, to hang out with the crew; the girls especially like to cuddle him.
The next phase of the film — another 20 or so minutes — finds Noe’s camera zeroing in on various conversations around the room. There are flirtations (gay and straight). The company’s humongous deejay, Daddy (Kiddy Stmile), keeps the speakers thumping and lounges about in his yellow plaid kilt. Some of the men, especially David (Romain Guillermic) talk about which of the girls they are drawn to.
Almost imperceptibly this talk gets more aggressive, more sexually charged. Eventually someone declares that the punch has been spiked, probably with LSD, and from that point on the night deteriorates into something out of Dante.
It’s the ultimate bad acid trip.
Some of the men act on their sexual impulses. An effort is made to find the culprit behind the drugs…various individuals are accused and desperately defend themselves. One young man is beaten senseless.
A fourth act consists of yet another uninterrupted shot — this one lasting almost a half hour — that follows one dancer, Selva (Sofia Boutella) as she wanders, desperately stoned, throughout the building encountering various scenes of lust and violence. The little boy, Tito, has been locked by his mother in a closet; she does it to protect him from the chaos swirling throughout the building…but perhaps it’s not such a good idea to put a child in a room filled with humming high-voltage electrical equipment.
Many viewers will conclude that Noe wears out his welcome here, that for all the spectacular dancing and equally mind-blowing cinematography (Benoit Debie is behind the camera) there’s not a lot of depth. Others will relish in the film’s immediacy and tactile provocations; for them a tale this alive needn’t wrap things up with a tidy moral.
Whichever side of the argument one comes down on, there is no denying that Noe has once again delivered something we’ve never seen before.
| Robert W. Butler
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