By Amy Nicholson
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Some movies frisk like pups, wagging their tails and begging for approval. Baise-Moi, however, doesn't mean to lick your face so much as sit on it.
Porn is famously the most profitable form of cinematic expression in the universe, but moralists like John Waters, Nagisa Oshima, and Catherine Breillat aside, few serious filmmakers outside the avant-garde have cared to tackle it. Rushing in where commercial directors fear to tread, novelist and "feminist warrior" Virginie Despentes and porn star Coralie Trinh Thi created Baise-Moi, a scandal in Paris last summer.
Awash in red paint and more authentic bodily fluids, this ultra-violent, highly graphic digital-video feature was slapped with an X rating and initially limited to sex-shop screenings, until a lawsuit brought against the Ministry of Culture resulted in its being banned in France altogether. The content is porn, but the mode is blatantly new wavejust a gun and a girl, or rather two girls. Manu and Nadine (Raffaela Anderson and Karen Bach, experienced "adult" performers both) go wild not just by fucking and sucking, but also by robbing and killing, as well as drinking, posing, leering into the camera, and otherwise acting like they're in a movie.
The Vertical Ray of the Sun
Written and directed by Tran Anh Hung
Sony Pictures Classics
Opens July 6
July 6 through 12
Manu is in fact a porn-film veteran; Baise-Moi is nothing if not programmatic. (The title, best translated as "Fuck Me," has for the U.S. release been rendered the way Andrea Dworkin might interpret it: "Rape Me.") Men are swine and women are wimps, and once the movie gets going, you can count on some sort of hardcore insert every five minutes. The table is set when three snarling skinheads abduct Manu and her junkie friend and savagely rape them both. The junkie is screaming throughout, but Manu just takes it. She's a burned-out philosophe, tough and stoical. Cut to the prostitute Nadine, another mistress of ennui, ministering to and taking it from a john while watching Gaspar Noé's I Stand Aloneon TV. (Nadine seems to derive a certain pleasure from a scene featuring a sliced sausage.)
After Manu just shoots a guy more or less on impulse and Nadine attacks (and possibly kills) her prissy roommate, the women meet on a deserted train platform. Nadine, a porn fan, recognizes Manu and they bonddriving a stolen car off to a hotel where they can dance together in their underwear. Their campaign to scare the world begins that night when they mug and gratuitously murder a woman extracting cash from an ATM. "I feel great," Nadine exults. Then it's off to a bar to pick up a couple of guys for a standard porn foursome. "The more you fuck, the less you think," Manu explains.
During the course of their spree, Manu and Nadine kill men and women indiscriminately, run down a stray pedestrian, shave their pubic hair, and criticize their dialogue: "Fuck, we're useless," Manu mopes after shooting the proprietor of a gun store. "Where are the witty lines? People are dying and we've got to be up to it." This exchange and the actresses' indefatigable smirks notwithstanding, wit is in short supplyalthough this journey to the end of the night derives a certain amount of punkish energy from its crude editing, cruddy-looking close-ups, strident soundtrack, and overall volatility.
Children are spared, but the movie's transgressions are designed to offend in nearly every other way. Baise-Moi means to put "revolt" back into the revolting. Riot grrrls Manu and Nadine have neither the charm nor the glamour of Thelma and Louise. Still, as depraved as they usually appear, they do have their (briefly) kittenish moments. "For girls on the run, you're pretty laid-back," a sympathetic acquaintance remarks. "That's because we lack imagination," Manu explains. So does this intensely literal-minded movie, although Despentes has been clever enough to cite Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, Abel Ferrara, and John Woo as her cinematic antecedents.
The rampage culminates in the movie's funniest sceneindeed, its only funny scene. Having arrived in Biarritz, the pair pull a Woo on the denizens of an entropic-looking sex club, in effect executing the cast of a rival fuck film. Vengeance is theirs. Grit your teeth. More inanely insouciant than actively repellent, Baise-Moi is too pleased with the debased romanticism of its slapdash self to outrage a shock-primed audience. It would be interesting, though, to see what might happen if it were unleashed on the Playboy Channel or the unsuspecting patrons of an ordinary porn theater.
Speaking of guilty pleasures, The Vertical Ray of the Sun is the third feature by the Franco-Vietnamese filmmaker and arch aesthete Tran Anh Hungand surely the most mysterious in its sense of unbroken, otherworldly serenity.
The Scent of Green Papaya (1993), Tran's delicately hyperreal evocation of his lost homeland, reconstructed a 1950s upper-class Saigon milieu on a French soundstage; his high-powered, lowlife melodrama Cyclo (1995), filmed in the chaotic midst of actual Saigon's unending traffic, combined bloody action and languorous chic. The Vertical Ray of the Sun, shot on location in Hanoi (albeit mainly indoors), is a quietly busy melodrama, a lush reverie on disappointment suggesting a spot of subtropical Three Sisters.
Maybe Chekhov is too prosaic. Verdant even in its interiors, Vertical Ray blatantly mythologizes its subjects. The movie opens withand repeatedly returns tothe spectacle of brother and sister twins waking, well into the morning, on their adjoining pallets. Putting on a languid bit of Lou Reed (!), the beautiful siblings stretch, do their morning tai chi, or simply dance together. Openly incestuous, Lien (Tran Nu Yen-Khe) fantasizes that people on the street mistake them for a couple. Or, perhaps, people just take them for a celestial vision. This swan-like actressTran's wife as well as an axiom of his cinemais impossibly beautiful, especially when her angular cheekbones and wide, slightly mashed features dissolve into an all-enveloping beatific smile.
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