The decision to see a film is irreversible. The decision to not see it -- today, right now -- is not. It can be put off indefinitely, subject to reconsideration at any time -- until you run out of time, permanently -- but once you've seen the movie, you can't "urn-see" it, no matter how much you might want to. Innocence cannot be recaptured, virginity cannot be restored. In a suspenseful post at Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule, Dennis Cozzalio faces this dilemma head-on: Should he watch Gaspar Noe's grueling 2003 "Irreversible"? Sometimes, Dennis writes, he is nagged by the presence of films "that I feel an obligation to get to know, sometimes out of simple curiosity, sometimes because to not know them is to be left out of a conversation that might stretch beyond the boundaries of that one particular film, and sometimes I feel the desire to see a film because people I respect and trust advise me to see it because they hold it in high regard. That sense of obligation reared its head again this past week concerning Irreversible, a movie with a rather proud reputation for being a shocking, unrelenting, formally compelling but ultimately nasty piece of work."
No kidding. I think of all movies as experiences, and there have been times in my life when I wanted to have as many experiences as possible, just to get them under my belt, to understand what they were like. Does that mean I want to have all experiences, without choosing (when possible) which to embrace and which to forego? No. I certainly have seen things in waking life (and in dreams) that I wish I hadn't seen -- and I have had the feeling that seeing certain films has diminished me as a human being (I'm talking to you, "Porky's 3: The Revenge.")
Likewise, it is quite probable that I will go the rest of my life without discovering what monkey brains taste like, or how it feels to be waterboarded, or to act in a porno movie, or to ride in a rodeo. Sure, I'm curious, and chances are I would survive each of these things, but I can't say I will regret not having them. One's identity is formed as much by the experiences one does not have -- whether by choice or by circumstance -- as by the things one does.
This exercise of free will has become a favorite topic of mine over the last nearly two decades since I stopped reviewing movies on a daily basis after seeing, if not necessarily reviewing, the bulk of what was released between about 1977 and 1993. What eventually got to me was not that so many movies were poorly made or misconceived (at least 80 percent, I'd estimate), but that they were uniformly bad. I didn't feel I was learning much from watching filmmakers repeat the same stupid mistakes -- most of which had to do with slavish, unimaginative notions about "story structure" that they'd had drilled into them by screenwriting manuals or development executives.
We have to face a few realities here: 1) Nobody can see, much less write about, every movie, even every "new" movie; 2) Time, availability, scheduling, spending money and other factors make it unlikely you will ever catch up with all the important, worthwhile movies you should see from the past (which keeps getting longer) or in the future (which keeps getting shorter). When I started writing about movies, I could only see them when they were made available to me in a particular time and place -- determined, almost always, by someone else. That is, somebody had to obtain a print and schedule a screening somewhere. Even movies that were shown on TV played on a certain channel at a specified hour and if you weren't in front of the set, tuned to that station when it was shown, you didn't see it.
This, obviously, is no longer the world we live in. I rarely watch "live" TV anymore -- I time-shift everything, movies or television programming, on TiVo and recordable DVDs. Libraries of thousands of movies are available for watching almost any time through various rental and video-on-demand services. This easy access to a wide cross-section of cinematic history is unprecedented.
So, there go our excuses. We now come to the point where not seeing a movie is often every bit as much a conscious decision as seeing one. And we can let the decision slide, knowing that if we miss something at a festival we can probably catch it in theatrical release (if it gets that far) or at a repertory screening (if you're fortunate enough to live in a town where those kinds of showcases exist) or on DVD or cable/satellite or Netflix Instant or Amazon On Demand or...
Well, you get the idea (and probably did a few paragraphs ago, but I wanted to retrace some things we may already have discussed in posts on "Funny Games," "Precious Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire" and "Avatar," among others).
Now, Dennis faces the prospect of "Irreversible":
I didn't have to see the film. I was in no way obligated professionally to see it, and certainly neither my credibility nor my card-carrying status as a cinephile would likely suffer as a result of my continuing to abstain from Gaspar Noé's film. Even if I saw the film, I doubt I'd feel compelled to write about it, so the benefit even as an unpaid blogger seemed lost. I realized that, in my own way, I was ceding to pressure not from my friends who like the film but from Noé himself, who was still daring me six years later to see if I could take it, to see whether or not I was a pussy.
The thing is, I stopped responding to that kind of tactic back in eighth grade, and it suddenly felt strange to me to allow my arm to be twisted some 40-some years later, when I ought to know better.
What will Dennis decide to do? Will he soon be wearing an "I Survived 'Irreversible' And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt" t-shirt? Get yourself over to SLIFR to find out...
UPDATE (01/22/10): Some commenters have questioned the use of the word "choice" (or "decision") above. Coincidentally, tonight "Fresh Air" was re-running an interview with one of my favorite science writers, Jonah Lehrer, author of "Proust Was a Neuroscientist" and "How We Decide." An excerpt from what he had to say about the rational and emotional components of human decision-making:
Well, Plato had this great metaphor for the mind, which was that there's this rational charioteer, and it's his job to oversee these emotional horses who tend to run wild.... Reason's in the driver's seat, and we make the best decisions when we trust the rational charioteer.
I think most scientists would modify that metaphor a bit and say, well, it's not quite a rider with reigns on horses. It's more like a rider trying to control an elephant, and the elephant is the emotional brain and we have much less control over what we actually do than we think we do.
It's sort of the illusion of rationality, where we're great at rationalizing decisions, but we're not quite so rational. And so... what scientists tend to refer to as the emotional brain or limbic system, is the collection of brain areas scattered throughout the cortex -- includes the amygdala, the insula, the nucleus accumbens, the ventral striatum -- brain areas that tend to traffic in Dopamine, and they generate all sorts of subtle feelings that drive our behavior, even when we're not aware of them.
I think one of the best examples of this comes from the work of a neurologist named Antonio Damasio, who in the early 1980s was studying patients who, because of a brain tumor, lost the ability to experience their emotions. So they didn't feel the everyday feelings of fear and pleasure. And you'd think, if you were Plato, that these people would be philosopher-kings, that they would be perfectly rational creatures, they'd make the best set of decisions possible. And instead, what you find is that they are like me in the cereal aisle, that they're pathologically indecisive, that they would spend all day trying to figure out where to eat lunch.
They'd spend five hours choosing between a blue pen or a black pen or a red pen, that all these everyday decisions we take for granted, they couldn't make. And that's because they were missing these subtle, visceral signals that were telling them to just choose the black pen or to eat the tuna fish sandwich or whatever. And then when we're cut off from these emotional signals, the most basic decisions become all but impossible.
In Dennis's post, he illuminatingly articulates a variety of often contradictory rational and emotional forces that figured into the formation of his decision.
46 Comments
Irreversible is too good a film not to ever see it, at least once I have seen five times with twice being at the cinema. It ranks in my top 10 films of the decade for sure. I can understand not seeing Porky's Revenge but Irreversible is a great film and deserves not to be missed!
...which is why I don't want to see "The Passion of the Christ."
I've been neglecting to buy a lot movies I want to buy, and there aren't THAT many of them.
I did just buy a used VHS set for "Fawlty Towers" for about 5 bucks. This is a reminder that I need to keep that up.
Hi Jim, I couldn't help but weigh in here, because the concept of choices has always fascinated me. Is anything really ever really a pure "choice"? I mean, it may be "conscious" as in we are aware of our action of physically making the choice at the moment that we're making it, but what exactly drove us to that moment of act? That split second of "yes" or "no"? Each of us is an unique amalgamation of individual experiences and life events, no two are the same. Our thought processes that forms the decision-making engine is thus, unique, as well. Take note that we're not unique because we "want" to, we are this way because life never repeats itself exactly, and we certainly do not have complete control of how life proceeds and how events unfold. Therefore, it can be said that we have no control of the foundation from which our "choices" spring from.
Talking in terms of movies, to see a film or to not see a film is never a completely "conscious" choice, in my opinion. We are swayed by our previous movie going experiences, our impressions of actors, screenwriters, directors, media, the information available to us (trailers, previews), etc. etc. The fact that we can now control when to see it hardly makes a difference. Good or bad promotion can entirely change the likelihood of you sitting in the dark at the beginning of a film regardless of where you chose to sit, and that "decision" will directly influence the likelihood of you sitting in front of the next film of that particular director, actor, screenwriter....
The funny thing in that quote by Dennis at the end of your piece is that he recognizes that the decision to see or not to see this movie is not entirely his, that he is being influenced by all these factors that he can't control, and yet he is still trying to dissect and analyze all these factors, saying that he "should know better", as if the simple act of literary recognition will help him overpower his previous life experiences and wrestle back his "choice." I didn't read what he decided, but the thing is, it's not about knowing better. There is no "better" or "worse." The bricks have already been laid. Now it's just time to walk the road and make the best of it.
p.s. love your blog.
Thank you, Grace. A friend and I were just talking about this (which is why I deliberately used the phrase "free will"). Seems kind of like an endless feedback loop: you are the product of your choices (conscious and otherwise, among other influences), but your choices are inevitably going to be a product of who you are. After all, you wouldn't choose them if you weren't you. Chicken, egg...
Grace, maybe you should read J. M. Coetzee's Life & Times of Michael K. The title character is a man you can call truly free; he's completely free of social influence, his only binding is his obligation to his mother, and then one day he just figures that eating is over-rated. Somehow, this book led me to the realisation that it's not about being completely free, but about understanding that all freedom is relative, and we just make do with what we're given.
I was in a similar position regarding Irreversible: feeling I should see it but not really wanting to put myself through it. Last week, however, I had the misfortune to watch Destricted. This is a portmanteau film, containing seven short films by different directors on the subject of pornography. The whole thing comes across as an attempt to cash-in on more liberal censorship laws (in Europe) and pass the result of as 'art'. None of the films are anything to write home about but Gaspar Noe's is the worst: thuddingly obvious, ugly, dull and gimmicky (the incessant use of strobe lighting for no other reason than to provoke the viewer. There is an onscreen 'warning' for epilepsy sufferers, several seconds after the strobing starts). It's put me off not only seeing Irreversible but any of Noe's films.
I remember this movie was coming on TV, a few days after I watched Memento. I decided to watch it because the summary mentioned that structure. And the next movie was Jules and Jim, so I thought it would be a nice double bill.
Five minutes into the movie, I turned off the TV (mine isn't even particularly big), because a systematically insane camera is to me more sickening than the shakycam. Later I returned for the next movie, and caught the 'beautiful' (I speak here of Noe's intention rather than the feeling I got) last five minutes. Point taken. Next film, I'll make do with an IMDb summary.
Btw, Jules and Jim was lovely.
Wonderful post, Jim. Completely agree with you that refusing to watch a bad film is a serious decision. And thanks for the link to SLIFR.
Today, you don't "earn" a movie by going after it, tracking it down or fighting for it in a film festival. Going to teh thetres is not a pilgrimage anymore. Cinema has truly become a commodity. Anyone can watch any film from anywhere. Almost every movie is either widely praised or widely panned before you get to see it. It kills the joy of discovery.
One way to face teh bitter truth that you can't watch them all is to see films on the "extreme" as far as possible so that you don't regret missing the mones that fall in between. I can then imagine a conversation like this:
"Have you seen The Limits of Control? It's so slow and nothing happens. Quite offbeat I must say"
"No, but have you seen Wavelength?"
As for Irreversible, I feel it just falls short. Noe hurts the film by trying to equate a murder and a rape. Can you even think of putting such attrocities into mathematical equations? I'll take the Tarantino brand of revenge anyday over Irreversible.
Cheers!
Jim, I think the scepticism of whether we have any control over our lives goes deeper than just "choice". The fact that we are so constituted as human beings gives us the means to say this very thing, to the point that it is perhaps "inconceivable" for us to deny it coherently. What does it mean to imagine oneself as not being oneself, could we articulate it?
And unlike you, I find myself incredibly fortunate not to have experienced the sorts of things that one could truly regret. Though there are many things that I do regret none of it I feel as being so alien to my existence. So it isn't as if "I wish I hadn't", but rather that I can find means of accommodating those torturous experiences into my life. Conceivably, this is a sign of good luck.
However, Grace Wang makes the comment "Talking in terms of movies, to see a film or to not see a film is never a completely "conscious" choice, in my opinion," that I find extremely objectionable. If that were indeed the case then anyone could be excused from a responsibility (e.g. a crime). From the point of "consciousness" and "choice", we are making actual choices but with the understanding that our makings are fluid and receptive. The world, our own world, is very much a part of oneself.
Concerning Dennis' decision, he has laid it out as though it were a genuine moral conflict, which I don't think it is. If the feeling is that he has something to prove (he is being bullied into seeing the film!), then he should make a stand! But it isn't exactly as if he hasn't progressed from 40 years earlier.
The thing that I have discovered, at least by watching movies and the choices involved in selection, is that one will usually turn out pleasantly surprised. If something is anticipated as an absolute disgrace and it turns out as such, nothing much needs to be said. My greatest difficulty is with the opposite case. I have a certain anxiety that certain recommended-to-be-watched film does not turn out as good as it is reputed to be; and I am as a result disappointed after viewing.
Yet the fact that I suffer from this anxiety does not give me a reason not to watch supposedly great films. That would be silly. I'd rather take in everything, the risk and all, and live with it.
I think this shines quite an interesting light on why we don't have desires to taste monkey brains, or have all sorts of insane experiences just for the sake of it. Because they could mean nothing to us. Some of us are simply not constituted in a way to have those desires to pop into our minds. I care about movies in general, thus, I am motivated to see them, and I am completely willing to take on that risk.
If the decision of whether to watch a film or not leads to a dilemma of immeasurable significance then we have our priorities all screwed up.
So does Dennis have any control over his movie choices? Yes absolutely, as long as we don't want to forfeit our use of "control" and "choices". And I suspect that he has every reason to do so especially since he finds it so worthy of deliberation. The only difficulty is that he seems to think that he has at the same time every reason not to see it.
I really like your first line, and I don't argue with that at all. I'd say that, as pattern-seeking animals, we incorporate all experiences into our lives one way or another. I did not suggest that all "choice" is simple, conscious or purely an exercise of will (free or otherwise -- see my reply to Grace Wang). As for what you say about expectations, it's fascinating to me to see how that came into play with "Avatar." For months, people who apparently didn't remember the same thing happening before the release of "Titanic," bad-mouthed the movie as a colossal folly. Then, when it turned out to not be as bad as they had convinced themselves it would be, they were ecstatic. Me, I went in with high expectations of Cameron based on my own past experiences with his films, and I felt let down this time in a way I never had with previous films. As for whether someone should see or not see a movie: that's a very intricate, personal matter. (I have a good friend who spent sessions in therapy triggered by a movie I showed to her. I do not take the power of movies lightly.) But I HATE it when someone I don't know asks ME if THEY should see a movie -- I don't believe it's a critic's place to tell strangers what they should do with their time, money, brains and bodies. The critic's function is to describe, interpret and place into some context what he/she has seen, not to be an arbiter of taste for others. The critic looks at the movie and tries to convey what he/she took away from the experience; readers can take it from there.
Irreversible one of the worst, most repugnant and absolutely wrong-headed movies I've ever seen and the world would be a better place if it did not exist, but I'm still glad I saw it just so I can talk about how repugnant it is.
In general, however, I feel no urge to see "everything" or to see the "hot" movies and especially no compulsion to see the allegedly "controversial" movies.
I have precisely no urge to see "Hostel" or anything else categorized as torture porn. It's possible I'm missing a good movie or two somewhere in that field, but I can live with that risk. I derive no enjoyment from watching human abjection nor do I find it serves any other purpose. I can safely pass and spend my time watching films I am vastly more likely to enjoy and much less likely to be nauseated by.
Similarly, I feel no need to see "Avatar." I have already seen enough of the trailers to know what the film looks like. And I find the look ridiculous. It may have a marvelous story and a wonderful political message. I don't know. Nor am I judging it on that basis. I have simply seen enough of it to know that I do not want to see it. By which I mean I do not want to SEE it, as in be forced to look at those ugly pictures. It's going to earn $2 billion and that's fine. It may win the Oscar and that's fine too. None of that will make me the least bit more tempted to watch it.
I saw irreversible out of curiosity after reading Roger Ebert's review. I must admit I was intrigued to see what could be so bad about the rape that critics would walk out in disgust. I do not know whether I would have been able to complete it without having first read the Ebert review. Perhaps curiosity might have led me to continue watching in hopes of finding some catharsis, some redemption for the characters.
The reverse chronology however, simply revealed that this was a tragedy in the truest sense of the word and that the world is sometimes a nasty, brutish place. The later scenes of the lovers playfully romping had an added tenderness along with undeniable sadness since I knew by then the horror that awaited them(particularly, the woman), once they stepped outside their room. It made me realise how fragile happiness is when it can be taken away so unexpectedly and horrifically. I wished that they had stayed in that room forever.
Did I particularly need to see this film? No. I can think of countless other films that will cause me to appreciate the fragility of happiness without leaving such images forever in my memory. It was my choice to see it just as it was my choice to see Inglourious Basterds and Pulp Fiction and not to see any of the SAWS or Hostels.
I have never recommended it to anyone I know nor have I returned for a second viewing. Is that significant? Who knows?
I did see "Irreversible" -- http://www.genjipress.com/2003/08/irreversible.html -- and I don't regret the experience. It was stomach-turning, no question about it, but I could see the larger purpose at work, and the sweet tone of second half of the film goes a long way towards making it a lot more palatable.
Nobody's gonna twist your arm, though, and if you think your time's better spent elsewhere, then by all means -- go spend it there! I'd love to see, for instance, a list of films from the last few years that you think don't get enough attention or kudos.
Sammy: I appreciate you disagreeing with that statement I made. But just to clarify, I never suggested that the "consciousness" of our choices has anything to do with the responsibilities for their actions. By all means, I am a firm believer that we should shoulder the responsibilities for our actions, with the exception of any medical conditions that severely alters our perception of reality. All I'm saying is that how our choices come about is a lot complicated than "this is what I want" and there is value in recognizing that. We often get too arrogant in our infallibility and "free will" as individuals and as a species, when in reality we are manipulated by our social environment far more than we'd like to admit.
Jim, I suppose there is a difference between "choice" and "free will". I define "choice" as the physical action of taking a step forward in life, and "free will" is the mental process leading up to it. But if it is a chicken and egg loop as you say (and I agree)...then how distinct can they really be?...
What I liked about the original post when I first read it is that it seems to understand that a lot of films like this exist simply for people to say that they have been able to sit through them. I especially feel this way about John Waters' films. Here is a body of work the offers nothing socially redeeming and tries really hard to be as obscene as possible while operating under the grounds that it is pressing into new territory and people buy that. When viewers say that they think Waters really has his finger on the pulse of America I need to question what America they think they are referring to. If anyone, Todd Solondz has his finger on the pulse of America simply because he exposes taboos and other such perversions by having the courage to admit that they exist. John Waters is that kid on the playground no one likes who has something dirty to tell or show you and can't wait to do so out of the sheer pleasure of getting away with being naughty.
I've always felt the same way about Noe and find Irreversible terribly overrated. Noe is one in a long line of young filmmakers who put style over substance as if, to refute Godard, they can be separated. These are not stylists, to steal an idea from Sidney Lumet and his book Making Movies, but decorators and critics and viewers eat it up because they can see it and recognize it, as if film style is only successful if it is tangible. Viewers like something that they can reach out and touch and hold in their hand, something they deem "different" and therefore brilliant by default. It's what fills the divide between a Tarantino film and a Guy Ritchie film which are so often compared as like entities.
But now I've deviated from the topic and am just editorializing. The simple fact is that, other than for conversational pieces, films like Irreversible don't really serve any purpose other than to announce how ambitious and on the cutting edge their young filmmakers are. Lumet again says that a film should leave the viewer with a thought or an idea that they can take home with them; something that can blossom into a bud of intelligence and force the viewer to look inside oneself and discover something new within them. Great films are not contained by the parameters of the screen; they ooze off into the theatre and follow you home. Irreversible, when broken down, says more about Gasper Noe as a filmmaker than it does about rape or murder or anything the film may think it is about.
I think the best films are the ones that compel us out of a natural curiosity on behalf of the viewer. Certainly if Irreversible was devoid of a brutal rape and murder it would be deemed no more than an over-ambitious spin on Memento and be forgotten about. Yt it lives on based on a reputation that says nothing about the quality of the film itself, but about how daring the filmmaker was in pushing the audience to places it didn't necessarily want to go in the first place. Same with John Waters. True filmmakers make films for the soul. Guys like Noe and Waters make them for the headlines.
Thankfully, as you point out Jim, we have free will and can choose not avoid these films in order to see ones that are actually well made and have the power to move us to something honest and profound, not force us into a ploy on the filmmakers behalf. Thanks God for that.
Irreversible was on my list of films to see simply because of the reputation it had. I felt I had to see it at some point in order to be in on the conversation (even if I never actually had the conversation). When my Netflix Queue maxed out (a max of 500 movies, if you've ever wondered), I ended up weeding out what I perceived to be the weaker films in the Queue, Irreversible included. Funny enough, about two years ago I was flipping through the movie channels (HDnet, IFC, AMC...) and stopped on a movie where a woman was about to be confronted by a man in what looked like a red alleyway (moments before the still at the top of your post). I stuck around and watched as it became the infamous never ending rape sequence. A few minutes in, I realized it must be Irreversible (I hadn't paid attention to the channel guide info--don't recall why). Well, I guess I saw what I came to see--I had no hook for the movie other than its reputation based on that scene. Once the scene was over, I turned it off. I felt nothing for the scene, which is what disturbed me into turning it off. I guess the film had become nothing more than the "rape scene" for me because of all the talk. And because I'd heard so much about it, I was no longer able to react to the scene itself. The feeling was more like checking it off my to do list. Even if I'd seen it from the beginning I think I would have been waiting for that scene in order to judge it as if it was the entirety of the film. That feeling that made me feel pretty pathetic as a film goer. I can't even explain why because I've absolutely been swayed into watching a film for specific, notorious moments rather than for watching the film itself (ahem, such as renting Gia just to see Angelina Jolie naked; I'm not afraid to admit it). I guess I learned that if you're considering watching a film because of it's infamous reputation, you should reconsider and choose to not watch the film because you won't really be watching it; you'll just be waiting for the moment you've heard about.
What will Dennis decide to do? Will he soon be wearing an "I Survived 'Irreversible' And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt" t-shirt? Get yourself over to...
If you move the words around a bit there, you get my advice to Dennis.
It's a freaking movie. It's not some life-altering decision - unless it turns out to be a really great movie, and then it alters your life for the better. If it sucks, if it bores you, if it offends you, scandalizes you - turn it off, or walk out. See how easy that was? I wonder how someone like that gets out of bed in the morning.
I agree with Paul and Def Ears.
I can't believe Dennis is going to go to his grave without seeing 'Irreversible'. I don't believe his curiosity about it will ever truly leave him. It is so accessible and not the least bit physically dangerous unlike a lot of curiosities in life. He should be so lucky that watching a certain movie is such a big curiosity to him, how easy life would be if that were the case for all of us.
Maybe someone should recommend him to see 'Martyrs' instead.
OK, I'll bite. Have *you* seen Irreversible, Jim?
Why, yes I have. I described the use of the yo-yo cam in the first half-hour or so (dangling, twirling, swinging as if on the end of a string) to Dennis over at SLIFR. Do I get my t-shirt now?
Why would you want to see sex in a movie if it isn't erotic?
The one movie that immediately comes to mind for me is Pink Flamingos. I've never seen it, and I'm tempted every now and then to. I've read and reread Roger's review of it probably a dozen times. I've read reviews that say every adult should be forced to watch it at least one time. Still, I don't have much more interest in seeing it than I would to myself eat dog shit just to know what it tastes like.
Also, while you can't unsee a movie, you can certainly forget it. As you've said, sometimes a movie is so forgettable that it becomes immediately lost in other activities of the day.
Hated, hated, hated this movie. My original NYPress review is here.
http://www.nypress.com/article-7180-the-poverty-of-gasper-noes-shock-tactics.html
Mike's observation "...a lot of films like this exist simply for people to say that they have been able to sit through them..." is spot-on, and I get at that in the opening section. Movies like "Irreversible" are the art house moviegoing equivalent of a roller coaster or spicy food. You see it and get to say you saw it, and you get to have an answer when somebody asks you, "How was it?"
I like a lot of "shocking" filmmakers (Lynch, Bunuel, Peckinpah, even Mel Gibson, though his brains are mostly in his eyes). But there's personal poetry in all of their movies, even the stupidest parts, and Noe strikes me as very calculating and clinical, a ruthless phony. There's a carnival barker aspect to his technical flair and choice of subject matter; he reminds me of Lars von Trier, except at least Von Trier lets you know that he's running a bit of a scam and tacitly concedes that he's just pushing buttons, and that frankly he's in the button-pushing business. Noe's movies have a weird tone that make it seem as though he thinks he's the first artist ever to try to get at the "truth" by showing taboo subject matter and extremes of sex and violence. I find him unbearable, and not in the sense of the word that he'd embrace.
Between the endless rape scene and the thread of bizarre, surreal, mostly nonsensical homophobia that runs throughout the movie (Friedkin's "Cruising" has nothing on that gay club in the first scene) the movie is also ferociously reactionary, to such an extent that if the filmmaker were raised in the United States rather than France, I doubt the film would have have been taken seriously as a statement on anything except the director's moral and emotional retardation.
He reminds me of certain theatrical grad students I knew in college who always wanted to get naked onstage or enact extreme violence or do something "subversive" (like wrap themselves in the flag while naked and bloody) and were always disappointed when the professor told them they couldn't do it because (a) it would distract from the text rather than enhance it, and (b) this was a graduate program, and that kind of thinking was sophomoric.
What a strange coincidence. I just met Antonio Damasio yesterday at a USC lecture with him and Gary Rydstrom, sound designer on Saving Private Ryan, Strange Days, and about a hundred other films. I had edited a sequence for a documentary featuring Damasio the semester before, so I was somewhat familiar with his research pertaining to emotion. He spoke about the notion of the unconscious mind as mentioned above, and how sound taps into a more primal part of our brain making it one of the most effective cinematic techniques. He also spoke briefly of coincidence, and how seeing two instances of an idea in short succession can help facilitate insight. Maybe this means I should look deeper into Damasio's work.
How cool! "Descartes' Error" (sub-title: "Emotion, Reason and the Human Brain") was a life-changer for me in the mid-1990s. Wish I could have attended that lecture. Sound design is an underused dimension of filmmaking. All movies have it; too few use it wisely and effectively. (Hence my love for the work of Skip Lievsay!)
Yeah, Skip Lievsay is amazing. No Country for Old Men (also my pick for best of the decade) has such perfectly controlled, subtle sound cues. The shift in wind tone when Brolin opens the satchel of money is great.
One of the topics Rydstrom touched on was how he tried to use sound to tell a separate part of the story from the action. The example he gave was the sound of the approaching tank before the end battle of Saving Private Ryan. It's a pretty basic example, but I remember that sequence clearly, and it's incredibly suspenseful because the tank's noise grows increasingly louder as we're watching the soldiers desperately trying to prepare for the fight.
I think that recognition for sound design usually goes to the film with the MOST sound. I went to an event just two weeks ago about the sound design in Transformers 2. Having not seen the film, I figured the sound was probably pretty top notch regardless of the film's quality, but it's just as jumbled as the movie itself. The sound designer, in an attempt at levity, mentioned how they had tried to squeeze a few moments of quiet so the audience could catch its breath, and Bay had asked them, "Where's my fucking sound?!" Michael Bay was there as well, and you could see how afraid his employees were of him. If Bay wants noise he gets noise.
In contrast, one of the most memorable instances of sound I can remember is a simple effect in the third season of The Wire. Marlow and Chris are having a conversation behind a set of apartment buildings, coldly and quietly discussing their plan of attack while a dog yaps repeatedly in the background. The yapping dog both gives a sense of evil doings happening under the noses of normal lives, and the fact that the dog is the only thing we hear gives a sense that no one else wants to be anywhere near these guys.
Sort of off topic from the original post. Then again, the decision to read this comment is irreversible...
"It's a freaking movie. It's not some life-altering decision - unless it turns out to be a really great movie, and then it alters your life for the better. If it sucks, if it bores you, if it offends you, scandalizes you - turn it off, or walk out. See how easy that was? I wonder how someone like that gets out of bed in the morning."
A leetle harsh, but I agree with this. I started to read Dennis's article and he's clearly a gifted writer and a great lover of film, which I like. But I stopped reading it because the self-congratulatory tone started getting on my nerves, even more so when I realized he probably spent more time writing it then he would have watching the movie. It only has the reputation of being an endurance test if you to give that weight. It's not an endurance test, and nobody is the lesser for not seeing it. If you feel you are, that's on you. You're not a wimp for seeing it, and the people who chose to see it aren't deranged perverts. My father didn't watch INGLORIOUS BASTARDS because he escaped Nazi Germany and lost an uncle. He didn't have to explain to me why he wasn't going to see it, but he said it sounded interesting and didn't judge my decision to see it - twice. I'm on the jaded side and I love (good) violent movies, but there are some things out there that I have the time to see that I'm not going to, for the time being. I haven't watched the "Two Girls, One Cup" video because it sounds disgusting. I stopped watching the Ukrainian hammer murder video a few seconds in when I realized I might see something I couldn't un-see. And I won't watch them even if somebody dares me to - if I gave in to that, I wouldn't blame the person but my own mental and psychological weakness. Noe is a showman and a provocateur and a fine artist, but if you give in to (imagined) pressure from him to see IRREVERSIBLE that's your problem, and it's also your problem if you DON'T see it because you perceive that he's pressuring you and you react to that. Finally, I've seen IRREVERSIBLE twice, I own the DVD, and I've watched the final third a number of times. It's a beautiful movie, in the sense that it's beautifully rendered like Goya's etchings which also show extreme human brutality and depravity. What they (IRREVERSIBLE and "The Disasters of War") depict and attempt to come to terms with are part of the human experience. I believe they're important works of art. But I don't believe that there's any single work of art that's so important that anybody NEEDS to see it, from the Bible to the Mona Lisa to everything else that's ever been created.
Whew. Ok - where's my shirt? And I want one for "The Disasters of War," too.
A similar problem recently cropped up around von Trier's ANTICHRIST. I saw it, and was surprised by how much it affected me, though I know from discussions afterward that people who were in the same room with me watching the movie thought it was a useless piece of mental masturbation coupled with some completely pointless brutality. Sound familiar?
In any case, I don't think that you can condemn a film like IRREVERSIBLE or ANTICHRIST just because it doesn't touch you in some way, or make you come to some sort of realization about something, and I think that's what a lot of people do with films like this. It's easy to say something is immoral or pointless when you're not the member of the audience who was really moved by something - even something that can't be fully explained by those who felt it.
As for choices, who cares? See it, don't see it; just don't weigh in on it if you haven't.
Just as with the critic who has announced that he won't be seeing Avatar, this writer is arguably just as narcissisic and just as annoying. There is no rule saying that one has to see Irreversible. Personally, I don't agree with those who talk about essential films that cinephiles must see (such lists are incredibly subjective), and so ultimately whether one wants to see a film, any film, is up to them. He just shouldn't expect us to care.
That said, I do agree it is a bit of an endurance test. Yes, it's a film, and not a marathon, but it has horrifying sexual violence, and if that doesn't constitute an endurance test, I don't know what does.
Anyway, see the film, or don't see it, but please don't write a piece publicly congratulating yourself for doing so.
Some of the points raised here, and some of the reactions to what I wrote about my Irreversible decision, both here and at my own blog, have made me feel, at the risk of spending even more time talking about the decision surrounding whether or not to see the movie, that I should at least make an attempt to respond. First, toward what Jim said in the introductory passages of his post, there are some things I don't particularly want to see, and those things are impossible to "un-see" after having been exposed to the imagery. The decision to not view a movie like Irreversible was, as some here have eagerly pointed out, not made with haste. It is a movie that I have been able to determine, through the writing of people who both admire and loathe the film, contains imagery and sensations that I can live without, and I have chosen to live without them. This is, of course, my prerogative as a filmgoer, and as one who is not professionally obliged (i.e. paid) to see everything that comes around the bend. Perhaps the mistake I‚ve made in the eyes of some readers here is having given myself over to examining why I don't want to see the film at all, why it's important for me to think about my reasons, whether or not it‚s important for me to consider seeing it, what I might reasonably expect to feel given what I know about my own predilections, prejudices and preferences if I did. It is precisely because, as Jim writes, I do not take movies or the effects they can have lightly that I felt the process of thinking about my decision might be something that could possibly be worthwhile to read. In a way Sammy is right when he suggests above that I am laying out the question of to see or not to see as a moral conflict, because that‚s how I felt on a rock-bottom level when I was mulling over and trying to articulate the reasons for having decided, after six years of reserve, that it was suddenly time to see it for myself. It's important to note, however, that any such positioning of the question as a kind of moral conflict was never intended to apply to anything other than my own inner voice(s) and my personal attempt to resolve it.
Sammy goes on: "If the feeling is that he has something to prove (he is being bullied into seeing the film!), then he should make a stand! But it isn't exactly as if he hasn't progressed from 40 years earlier." As one whose natural curiosity about film is strong indeed, I do believe that part of Noe's strategy in promoting the movie is precisely to "bully," if you will, potential viewers who may be on the fence about whether or not to take on his film. He realizes, as one who is probably well acquainted with the methodology of manipulation, just what buttons to push to make it seem important that those who take film seriously should feel obligated to see his work. His focus on and interpretation of the phenomenon of men walking out on the film in screenings prior to its general release is meant to accentuate that even the most traditionally stalwart of viewers "big, burly men!" have been fleeing for the exits. Don‚t think there's any judgment being purveyed in his deadpan doling out of this information? And then he spins the men bolting from the movie as evidence not that they're empathetic or that they may find the act of Bellucci being buggered, or the movie, or both, repulsive, but that they‚re projecting themselves into the role of victim. (For this view he seems to hold sympathy.) I don't think you have to see the movie to find that kind of rationalization specious and creepy. So yes, if Noe's movie is at all akin to his own process of promoting it, then I definitely feel as if he is trying to bully me, dare me into to seeing the film. And Sammy argues against my reaction with a point that I made myself in my piece: I stopped caving in to precisely those same bullying tactics when I was in eight grade. Yes, I do feel as though I have made some progress in those ensuing 40 years, Sammy. And yes, I do feel as though that while I would never put anyone down for making the choice to see Noe‚s movie, I do feel I have, if not every reason not to see Irreversible, then at least enough of them to satisfy myself.
Which is the point of my piece. It is not positioned as a call for everyone to assess their reasons for seeing Irreversible It is not a call for Noe to be banned or burned or for filmmakers to avoid depicting this kind of imagery. There was never any intent on my part, nor do I think the end result of my post represents any evidence of characterizes, as Def Ears has suggested, that I think anyone is somehow lessened or diminished for having seen it. Nor would I think that of myself if I did. I certainly can conceive of a scenario in which, after having seen it, I might ask myself, "Why did I put myself through that?" We've all said that to ourselves about all kinds of movies. (I just posed the question to myself tonight after accompanying my very persuasive daughters to a screening of Tooth Fairy.) The difference here is that I have taken time to think about why I don't want to see Irreversible. If this process is seen by some as self-indulgent or self-congratulatory, well, I don't know quite how to respond to that. It is by definition self-indulgent˜any first-person investigation is˜and framing the investigation in those terms is meant to reflect on no one's reservations but my own. And I find the worrisome responses of some here, that I spent more hours writing about not seeing the movie than it would have taken to see it, to be somewhat charmingly beside the point, as if I were concerned chiefly with issues of time management and getting the most out of my cinematic rollover minutes. I appreciate your concern, folks, but believe me, there's something to be said for writing as a form of self-administered therapy. I am just glad that at least one of you, upon discovering that the piece seemed to be too much of an investment of my part, bailed out before wasting any more of your own time. As for indulging in self-congratulation, I believe I made clear in my piece that the warring impulses I felt over this film as a lover of cinema and an emotional human being were based entirely on the responses of those who have actually seen the film (not, obviously, mine) who I have found to be trustworthy reporters in these matters over the years. It was not my strategy to pretend I could render a judgment on the film, nor was I inviting anyone to look at me as somehow more upright and righteous than those adults who have decided during the last six years, exercising their right and privilege, to see the film. My hope was to speak entirely from the point of view of someone who knows enough details beforehand to make an informed choice not on the merit of the film itself but on simply whether or not to see it. It's worth noting that I am a scarred but unrepentant veteran of Salo and find much to justify that film, and believe me I thought long and hard about whether that movie was something I needed to see. I chose to see it because of what I knew of Pasolini and my trust that he might find the cruel poetry in his ghastly allegory that would justify the audience's agony. (As a father of nine and six-year-old girls, I have resisted seeing the movie again, even though I still believe it to be a brilliant piece of work.) Though I do not preclude ever seeing one of his films, no one I‚ve spoken to, pro or con re Irreversible, has given me reason to suspect that Gaspar Noe has the soul of a poet. All of this does makes me appreciate the testimony of someone like Chris Long, who says he is glad he saw it so he can "talk about how repugnant it is." That‚s personal reportage, like the kind offered by the critics I initially read, which I find no fault in trusting, again, not in order to adopt their point of view as my own, but in order to help determine the severity of events within it which could reasonably lead me to decide to avoid the film. This is distinctly different, as I see it, from asking Chris Long, or David Edelstein, or Jim Emerson whether or not I'd "like" Irreversible.
By now the very lengthy nature of this response has likely driven readers like Paul and Nick G. and Def Ears to much further, perhaps fatal distraction, and for that I apologize. But the tenor of a comment like "It's a freaking movie" (Paul, did you mean to leave out "just" before the article in your sentence?) is akin to someone hauling out that old sawhorse about leaving one‚s thinking cap in the lobby, and I think the response ought to be just as obvious. Why take things so seriously? It's (just) a freakin‚ movie! You go in, you laugh, you cry, you cringe, you leave, you go on with life, you don‚t think about it afterwards! And if it's a great movie, according to Paul, it can alter your life for the better. But Paul seems to discount the possibility that a "bad" movie, or even a merely irresponsible or mediocre one, might have the opposite power. Jim relates the anecdote about a friend having to undergo therapy as a result of imagery encountered in a movie he recommended, and while this reaction may be at the extreme end of the spectrum, it is not something I tend to take lightly, in an art form that exists within a larger world where we are bombarded with every grade of imagery and suggestion almost every minute or every day, the possibility that something I encounter in a movie could affect me in the negative, whatever that effect might be. Usually that negative effect comes in relentless and numbing encounters with the mediocre, which can dull ones critical faculties as easily as it can lull one to sleep. But if I can take steps to avoid specific imagery which trafficks in the degradation of a woman after it has been suggested, in all seriousness by voices in whom I have a measure of trust, that there's nothing resonant in the event as filmed beyond that degradation, then in the instance of Irreversible I'm going to choose to not have my life effected. The kind of material I was considering in my post is not, to my eye, as Paul characterizes it˜so "easy" to shrug off. Maybe it is for some, but not for me. (By the way, Paul, I rarely get enough sleep, usually because I end up staying up all night working or writing comments like this one, but even so I don‚t have much trouble getting out of bed in the morning. My daily responsibilities see to that little problem for me. However, I do have a great deal of difficulty during the day keeping my mind off of going back to bed as soon as possible!)
To continue, Def Ears wrote the following: "If you give in to (imagined) pressure from (Noe) to see Irreversible that's your problem, and it's also your problem if you DON'T see it because you perceive that he's pressuring you and you react to that." The imagined pressure from Noe is precisely what I dealt with in the post, and if I hadn‚t driven you away with my self-congratulatory tone, D.E., you would have seen that I did not give in to that pressure. But you're exactly right -- it would have been my problem if I had, and I feel like the tension between resisting and giving into it made for a much more interesting subject than a long hand-wringing session written in the aftermath of seeing the movie itself. To my knowledge, hundreds have written about the experience of the movie, but no one about what it meant personally to not see it -- and if I have miscalculated whether or not that's a worthwhile thing to write about, then so be it, because it certainly do be. Also, I disagree with the notion that I‚ve decided to not see it because I'm simply reacting to pressure from Noe that may or may not exist. If that were all there was to my resistance, then I'd have to concede your point. But the fact is, that realization of where the pressure was really coming from came after quite a bit of deliberation on my part, and my reaction to it, though crucial, constitutes only a fraction of the reason why I determined Noe's movie was not for me. It is a mischaracterization to say that I have avoided Irreversible simply to prove to Gaspar Noe, or to those who hold him in high regard, or to anyone else, that bully tactics don‚t work on me. I may be self-indulgent, but I hope I'm not pathetic.
And finally, speaking of mischaracterizations, I do not, as Nick G. seems to believe, remain curious about Irreversible. I‚ve read enough about it now that whatever curiosity had at one point has long been sated, and certainly whatever reservations I still hold about the movie have next to nothing to do with whether or not the movie is „accessible," or fears I might have that it‚s „physically dangerous.‰ I might find these comments silly were they not laced with sarcasm. But having said that, I have no idea how to respond to this: „He should be so lucky that watching a certain movie is such a big curiosity to him, how easy life would be if that were the case for all of us. Maybe someone should recommend him to see Martyrs instead.„ So I won‚t.
The people Damasio describes in Jim's update, the ones who have lost the ability to experience emotion, remind me of the kind of person I hope to avoid becoming in terms of the way I anticipate and perceive and experience film. I‚ve tried in this instance to use the information my emotions have supplied me to navigate through a sea of conflicting information about one piece of work and determine whether or not it would be something from which I could grow as a viewer, or whether or not I should or could use that information as cues to dig further, to find out more before yielding to the film. Of course, giving one over to the experience of a film without a great deal of prior knowledge can be one of the most pleasurable ways to encounter a movie, a great , memorable seduction. But in this case I felt it was important, knowing what I know about myself, to not simply allow myself to be beaten and buffeted. (I won‚t say „raped‰ because to do so would be to validate Noe‚s assertion of males projecting themselves into the movie in the place of Monica Bellucci which, as I've said, smells like a great steaming pile of rationalization to me.) I hope that in writing about it I have avoided characterizing my reaction as one that others should necessarily adopt, or even one that I will exercise with regularity myself.
Irreversible, it seems, is a special case for me, and I simply hope that there I something worthwhile for others in my trying to articulate why.
Well said, Dennis. Obviously, I think there IS something worthwhile in trying to articulate one's impressiona and expectations about a movie -- whether it's before one sees it, or before one decides not to. Talk about taboos -- this appears to be a big one. But if you take movies (or any art) at all seriously, it's something you're going to have to confront. There's a price to pay for what you experience, and for what you don't -- and that's something worth discussing. It's NOT the same as saying, for example, that it's OK for a reviewer to "review" a movie he/she hasn't seen. What you did in your "Irreversible" piece was to offer insight into the internal process you went through -- something I'd hope anybody with awareness of the movie and self-awareness as a moviegoer (and a human being) would go through before making a decision about whether to see it. (And one of your strengths as a writer is your ability to capture the subtleties and contradictions in such a process.) Anyone reading your piece can see that you're not advocating a course of action for anybody else, but honestly examining how you arrived at your own decision.
The next step, as I tried to discuss in what I called "The Funny Games Experiment," is how to react to what you see. As I said then, if one takes Haneke or his film at all seriously on their own terms, then the only responsible or morally defensible reaction would be to either leave the theater as soon as you became aware of what the film was doing -- or storm the projection booth and destroy the print! Anything less -- by Haneke's own definition of his provocation -- is a form of moral cowardice.
*As I said then, if one takes Haneke or his film at all seriously on their own terms, then the only responsible or morally defensible reaction would be to either leave the theater as soon as you became aware of what the film was doing*
This is exactly what I did (rather I turned it off at home) and after reading Haneke's comments about the film, I kind of felt as if I had passed his test. If that's really what it was.
In his terms, I am apparently not the sort of viewer that needs to learn any "lesson" from his film. I'm not sure if anybody needs to be learning his lessons, though, and it's his preachiness that is his least attractive quality. And I say that as someone who thinks that "Seventh Continent" and "Cache" are phenomenal movies.
Odd thing I find is that, despite what some cultural pundits and watchdogs might claim, I have found that the more movies I watch, the MORE sensitive I am to depictions of violence and increasingly less interested in seeing it.
All very interesting. I actually liked Irreversible. Well "liked" isn't the word. . . I was extremely bothered by it in ways that were meaningful. Certainly the film could have made its points without all the trauma and ugliness, but the trauma and ugliness made those points visceral and uncomfortable.
While I really can't defend the juvenile provocation that informs the film, I can report that I've thought about that movie probably more than anything I've seen during the past decade. The question that some critics seems to ask "is it WORTH it to make us sit through all that violence? IS it necessary?" Those kinds of questions aren't, for me, particularly good questions. Irreversible, to a certain degree, resists an intellectual response. It really "works" on that shocking, visceral level. Being a horror film veteran, I can report that shock isn't all that easy to create. Extreme content by itself won't do it. It's the bigger philosophical point that the film makes that really makes it awful.
Is it also a bit of immature audience baiting designed to offend the art house crowd that might go see it? Sure it is. Is the homophobic depiction of gay SM in the film deliberately there to piss off progressive p.c. viewers while also pissing off people who might not want to see gay sex of any sort? Sure it is. Does the film eroticize rape (that's an awful lot of naked Monica Bellucci there) while also designing just about the most horrific depiction of it you can imagine (it'll make you want to vomit)? Yep. Is it a nihilistic film? Quite possibly.
But I haven't forgotten it. And I don't just mean "that" scene. It's ultimately a film about mortality, and an unblinkingly awful one at that. I found it manipulative and upsetting, and not just because of the violence. Like I said, it bothered me in important ways, which was its intent. Is that enough to put up with all that ugliness? Well. . . I respect the decision to say "no." But let's not be reductive. Certanly there's an element of carnival barker/bully in the film ("Betcha won't look!"), but once you get past that there's a lot more there. You are free to say Noe is an asshole, but so's Roman Polanski, and his movies are worth a look.
Somebody mentioned John Waters. . . in his live show he mentioned Noe as a young filmaker he liked. Seeing as how Waters is not shy about playing that carny character, I get the connection. Although he's a hell of a lot more fun.
I certainly understand the opposing view by the way. It IS an ugly, nihilistic film. But I like art that's meaningfully ugly and nihilistic. A film doesn't have to encapsulate an entire worldview. I don't walk around seeing the world in the terms that Noe's films describe it. But a couple of hours with him can be pretty bracing.
Of course, I really like grindcore too. So go figure.
I think your response to all this is an interesting explanation of what you were going for, Dennis, but when you ask a question like, 'Paul, did you mean to leave out "just" before the article in your sentence?,' it does make you seem a bit petty in your arguments. I mean, come on - grammar? It's not even incorrect, and no one has to use the word "just" before the article in that sentence.
Not arguing your point, just that you didn't help yourself not sounding like a bitter, ranting fool, which is something I know a bit about from my own comments on this blog.
Dennis your response accomplishes very well what my response here wouldve set out to accomplish. So thanks for saving me the trouble.
Oh, I get it. "Pass." The pun in your title. As in, passing the "Funny Games" test by passing on the movie. Aren't we the clever ones?
Matt, Paul, no snark or pettiness intended. My question about the leaving out the "just" wasn't meant as a grammatical adjustment, but one in which I was sincerely asking if Paul meant to imply, in that time-honored tradition, that Irreversible was just a freaking movie, which is the meaning I derived from his comment with or without the word. I wasn't saying what he said was grammatically incorrect, or that he had to use the word. I was just wondering if that was indeed what he meant. And if it was, then so on and so on. Of course, whether it's just "a freaking movie" or "just a freaking movie," either way I suppose we're all wasting our time here, eh?
I admit that I have not seen "Irreversible", nor is it necessary that I do so.
For me, the courageous performances of Moe and Curly Howard and Larry Fine, executed more than seventy years ago, say all that need be said about pointless brutality and gratuitous violence.
The shocking, explicit imagery in the cinema of The Three Stooges, once seen, may never be "unseen".
Rereading this series of comments, many of them earnest and heartfelt, I feel compelled to apologize for the facetious tone of my earlier remark.
My point was that I have not read, anywhere, any indication that Gaspar Noe's work contains any deeper insight into violence than the oeuvre of Howard, Fine and Howard - where you can view a man assaulted with a circular saw, a crowbar forced into a man's nostrils, a thousand forms of assault on the human body, accompanied by surrealistic sound effects.
The one is played for "Art", the other for laughs. I know which one I prefer.
I saw 'Irreversible' on a large screen during it's brief theatrical run at the Landmark's Main Art Theater (where I also saw 'Antichrist' and 'Requiem for a Dream', just to name a couple other films that test your ability to remain seated in the theater), and it was the first time I can remember driving home from a theater and feeling genuinely shocked. The violence onscreen is one thing, but how it's presented visually and sonically is another story. Try to imagine the raw dread of the opening cue of 'A Clockwork Orange', with it's synthetic gong, slowed down and amplified by Daft Punk frontman Thomas Bangalter and you've got an idea of what 'Irreversible' sounded like. Not to mention the deliberate strobing effects and the use of an air-raid siren during one of the film's ultraviolent highlights.
That said, I cannot wait to see Noe's 'Enter the Void', which looks like a surreal psychedelic odyssey akin to Stanley Kubrick's '2001: A Space Odyssey' (the poster for '2001' appears in the lead couple's bedroom in 'Irreversible'). It's also worth noting that Noe's initial intention with 'Irreversible' was not to make a rape-murder film, but to build on the promise of Kubrick's 'Eyes Wide Shut': film a Hollywood couple having sex. Like Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, Vincent Cassel and Monica Bellucci refused to go for it, so the stories were both rewritten somewhat to still include the leading actors but with less emphasis on the sex lives of movie stars. Just in case the connection between 'Eyes Wide Shut' and 'Irreversible' hasn't been made yet, a teaser-trailer for 'Irreversible' showing the couple in their bedroom reads with the title cards 'Bellucci' 'Cassel' 'Noe' in the same way the now-famous 'Eyes Wide Shut' trailer began with 'Cruise' 'Kidman' 'Kubrick'.
For Noe, the only real artistic sin I can attribute to him is deliberately labeling himself this generation's Stanley Kubrick. He's got more in common with visual stylists like David Fincher, Jean-Pierre Jeunet, or Gyorgy Palfi (Taxidermia) for that matter.
Caffinehead. . . while I appreciate the Stooges as much as the next guy, the point of Irreversable ISN'T the violence. The violence is used for a certain purpose. It's not a film "about violence." It contains a lot of violence, but it's a film about mortality and entropy. My eariler comment "let's not be reductive" was kinda making that point.
Again, I certainly understand why someone might not want to see it, and I understand how someone who saw it might not have liked it, but I'm a little bugged by the way that some commenters (and the original article, by the way) are framing the movie. "It's a movie about violence, and the director is immaturely daring us to see it. I'll pass." Certainly Noe has made plenty of assinine public comments, but the movie really isn't about that. I know that Noe doesn't help my case, but I'm comfortable taking him with a grain of salt.
"Irreversible" at least has a fairly interesting aesthetic, an air of technical innovation (running a 20hz tone under the first act, to produce actual, physical discomfort...?), and I have to like any movie that ends, as far as I can tell, with the Big Bang.
Now "Salo"... that has images I'll never be able to unsee.
I'd like to put Noe and Haneke in a sack and throw it in a metaphorical river, then a real river.
You think violence is so funny and cool? Perhaps you need to see Funny Games. Might learn something.
Dennis, In regards to my opinion that you will remain curious about the film; I did not mean you will remain curious because you haven't read enough of other peoples opinions or explanations of the film but rather you will remain curious about your experience of watching the film yourself.
And obviously, as you stated, my remark about someone recommending you to see 'Martyrs' was sarcastic. But why can't sarcastic be silly?
Honestly I would never recommend you see 'Irreversible' or 'Martyrs'. Both of these left me without a good night sleep for a few days and I could easily guess that it would have a negative affect on you as well. For me it was the fire extinguisher scene that haunted me more so than the rape.
Anyways, I enjoyed reading both of your posts and am flattered you would write a paragraph responding to my dumb little comment.
Take care
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