A confession: I am not familiar with the work of director Gaspar Noé, despite his presence as a notorious, divisive figure in the cult cinema scene. The verdict on 2002’s Irreversible was so split amongst people whose opinions I trust that I’ve still never sought the film out, and as such I’ve never caught up with anything else of his, either. All of that has changed with Climax (2018), which I am led to believe is a fairly accessible film compared to Noé’s other work, and I’d agree that there’s nothing absolutely insurmountable here for a rookie, in terms of its style and content. However, having seen Climax, I think I do now understand what all the fuss is about. It showcases a sizeable talent, with a vivid and daring array of shooting styles, overlaid with music and a building atmosphere until the film’s intended nightmarish aspects are palpable. Clearly, from the very first moments, Noé is both aware of his own skills, and keen for his film to be a disruptive experience. This he certainly achieves.
The film begins – after a sequence of what would usually be end credits, something I understand that Noé usually does – with a series of audition tapes showing a number of hopeful twenty-somethings hoping to join a modern dance group. Here’s the first way in which the film disrupts; we are clearly led to believe, via the VCR used to play the audition tapes and the big box VHS cult and horror films framing the TV screen, that this film takes place somewhere in the mid-nineties. However, in other respects, our film feels bang up to date, even without the ubiquitous presence of smartphones. Everything else – clothes, hair, style – feels like it could have been captured just yesterday. Alongside the almost expected presence of on-screen chapter titles, the tendency to blot out too many obvious markers of modernity seems to be a contemporary obsession; perhaps this, in itself, marks a film out as brand new. Anyway, these bright young things who love to dance have evidently got the job, and they head to an isolated location to practice, where they spend three days.
Things seem to have gone well and the group has seemingly bonded very well, so that after a full run-through of their act (which even if you regard most dancing as a kind of well-pruned seizure still constitutes an extraordinary long take) it’s time to unwind. They decide to have a low-key party at the rehearsal location, with a little buffet and a punch bowl of sangria, and the dancers begin to pair off, discussing everything from drugs to sex to God, with the drink still flowing. Gradually, the banter seems to be giving way to more unfriendly vibes which are billowing beneath the surface – but the real clincher is when it becomes apparent to everyone that the sangria has been spiked with a hallucinogenic. Now fearful and rapidly becoming paranoid on their way to a complete psychedelic meltdown, reproach and anger begins to ripple. The rapidity with which the party turns into a nightmare is quite something, and – in a series of sequences which are quite unrehearsed and unscripted – people demonstrate just how nuts and irrational things can get, and the film strides quite boldly from naturalistic to histrionic. It really is a force of nature, incredibly immersive and well-crafted.
Noé’s notoriety stems in large part from the themes he has tackled thus far, but he’s as well-known for his exploratory camera work, and although many of his shots here are quite low-key, he also varies this with a broad range of different aspects here. Undertaking such things as following different actors on a rig, then swapping to actor’s-eye-view and back again, all contributes hugely to the overall atmosphere and showcases a meticulous eye for detail. Then, the camera may perform a switch from ground level to ceiling, shooting the host of (amateur actors and) tripping dancers from above. There doesn’t seem to be a shot or a sequence wasted; it all flows effortlessly, but nonetheless feels like something ornate is being crafted. If the film reminds me of anything else at all, it’s of some sort of unholy matrimony between Suspiria (dance as some sort of malign link and currency) and Aronofsky’s 2017 film mother! (chaos escalating from the ridiculous to the sublime, as well as threats to an innocent child). However, I’d say I enjoy Climax’s lunacy more than I did mother! – Climax has more of an enjoyable journey towards its own casually cruel, heady final fallout.
Climax is a jagged piece of filmmaking, showcasing incredibly acuity throughout its pared-down running time, including wherever this means that vagueness and confusion contribute to its overall effect. As much a feat as a feast, it concerns itself far more with impressions than linear storytelling with a neat beginning and end, although what it achieves is immersive enough to keep you gripped anyway. In essence, it’s a simple enough yarn, but made into an effective and lurid cinematic experience. Yeah, despite a few initial misgivings, I was pleasantly blown away by this film and I can see that Arrow are again the right people to showcase this release at its best. Fans of synth/dance music will adore the soundtrack, too.
Climax will be released by Arrow Films on 11th February 2019.