I know that it is a faux-pas to ask an artist to justify or explain his works, but I think this one makes you wonder if maybe Gaspar Noe doesn't have some explaining to do.The events shown in the movie as such are not over the top.Rape does happen,retaliation does happen,lunacy does happen,extreme cruelty and urban filth sceneries like in the movie do exist.Nothing wrong with that.
Comparisons with other cringe-inducing movies are inevitable,Straw Dogs,Deliverence,Cruising come to mind.However,none of those were...well...so damn "artsy".Those movies and others like it had a human and real vibe to them, regardless how twisted they were.In this one, you get the feeling that you're dealing with a humorless Quentin Tarantino. You realize that you're dealing with a twisted artistic experiment, but to what purpose ? To gross you out ? Check. To induce nausea ? Check. To feel horror ? Check. Well, I could achieve all that by smashing my face against a wall and then look in the mirror.
Judging by the amount of gore in the movie, you may ask yourself if maybe this isn't Gaspar Noe's way to let us experience his fictional self-mutilation. Leaving one scene in the middle of the movie and the very last one aside, there is non-stop violence that would probably be more appropriate for a snuff movie. What the hell is the point of scenes where a man's face and skull are crushed like a melon with a fire hydrant or one of an extremely long depiction of a brutal rape and beating ? Where is the point ? If I'm going to stand being grossed out by a movie, I want a reason. I want to know where the director's feelings are. Irreversible doesn't seem to shed light on any of that, it just purposely shocks you. The reverse chronological order, the sound effects and the hand-held camera stuff may be interesting but so are my hangovers in the morning. In the end (actually the beginning), you find out that all was great and all is lost now. Not really a discovery and not really food for thought, not to mention feeling kinda numb.
In conclusion, this may be a unique and interesting line in Gaspar Noe's, Cassel's and Belucci's resume, but so is a certain underpaid and back-breaking employment in mine. I'd rather deal with my own demons rather than some artist's experimental gore and fetish, if that's all there is to it.And as far as I'm concerned, it is just that. Unless of course you're pervert enough to want to watch Monica Belucci being raped for 11 minutes, which, when I come to think of it, may have purposely been just the right thing to promote this pretentious and artsy flick.
Comparisons with other cringe-inducing movies are inevitable,Straw Dogs,Deliverence,Cruising come to mind.However,none of those were...well...so damn "artsy".Those movies and others like it had a human and real vibe to them, regardless how twisted they were.In this one, you get the feeling that you're dealing with a humorless Quentin Tarantino. You realize that you're dealing with a twisted artistic experiment, but to what purpose ? To gross you out ? Check. To induce nausea ? Check. To feel horror ? Check. Well, I could achieve all that by smashing my face against a wall and then look in the mirror.
Judging by the amount of gore in the movie, you may ask yourself if maybe this isn't Gaspar Noe's way to let us experience his fictional self-mutilation. Leaving one scene in the middle of the movie and the very last one aside, there is non-stop violence that would probably be more appropriate for a snuff movie. What the hell is the point of scenes where a man's face and skull are crushed like a melon with a fire hydrant or one of an extremely long depiction of a brutal rape and beating ? Where is the point ? If I'm going to stand being grossed out by a movie, I want a reason. I want to know where the director's feelings are. Irreversible doesn't seem to shed light on any of that, it just purposely shocks you. The reverse chronological order, the sound effects and the hand-held camera stuff may be interesting but so are my hangovers in the morning. In the end (actually the beginning), you find out that all was great and all is lost now. Not really a discovery and not really food for thought, not to mention feeling kinda numb.
In conclusion, this may be a unique and interesting line in Gaspar Noe's, Cassel's and Belucci's resume, but so is a certain underpaid and back-breaking employment in mine. I'd rather deal with my own demons rather than some artist's experimental gore and fetish, if that's all there is to it.And as far as I'm concerned, it is just that. Unless of course you're pervert enough to want to watch Monica Belucci being raped for 11 minutes, which, when I come to think of it, may have purposely been just the right thing to promote this pretentious and artsy flick.