by Anuska Roy
Trigger Warning: Mentions of sexual assault, rape and violence
This is a non-fiction essay submitted to us by Anuska Roy on the theme of haunt.
The representation of blood, guts, and gore has evolved, with movies in the contemporary 21st century placing an almost invincible dependency on the same. ‘Torture porn,’ or what it has come to be now, has evolved into a subgenre of its own. In horror movies, scenes of visceral pain, mutilation and sadism seem to be more and more frequent nowadays. Even mainstream movies, such as the popular ‘Scream’ franchise, have embraced this trend, albeit in the context of meta-storytelling. However, while discussing torture porn or exploitation cinema, the wave of filmmaking referred to as the New French Extremity takes an almost tyrannical spot at the helm.
Bava as much as Bataille, Salo no less than Sade seem the determinants of a cinema suddenly determined to break every taboo, to wade in rivers of viscera and spumes of sperm, to fill each frame with flesh, nubile or gnarled, and subject it to all manner of penetration, mutilation, and defilement.” – James Quandt, February 2004, ArtForum
Coined by film critic James Quandt, the ‘New French Extremity’ genre emerged as a contemporary category, pushing the boundaries of mainstream cinema by focusing on explicit gore and violence. The above cited quotation perhaps also summarises the consensus critics arrived at about the genre. And wade the movies did in “rivers of viscera and spumes of sperm.” While filmmakers like Gaspar Noe, Francois Ozon, and Alexandre Aja played significant roles in making this genre accessible to a wider audience, their movies seemed to have an almost fetishised outlook on violence and, even more disturbingly, sexual violence.
Gaspar Noe’s infamous entry into the genre is known for the gratuitous 10-minute-long depiction of a woman being repeatedly beaten and raped in a subway lit by red. While movies released under the genre of the New French Extremity carried with them a supposed vague commentary on the socio-politics of the past, it was also known for using sexual violence to prod a reaction out of the audience. ‘Irreversible’, released in 2002, is one of the essential films responsible for making the French Extremity mainstream, and rightfully so. ‘Switchblade Romance’, otherwise known as ‘High Tension’ or ‘Haute Tension,’ made by Alexandre Aja, is another film known for bringing this genre to a large audience. These films were also the very first that I watched and accurately incorporated the aspects of gore and sexual violence. As a queer woman residing within the South Asian diaspora, these films sadly mirrored the realities that women in my country have endured and continue to endure on a distressingly regular basis.
Did that, however, mean I wanted a stylised depiction of it on screen? My answer has evolved from a confused ‘maybe’ to an almost furious ‘hell no’ through the years. I was relatively young when I was initially introduced to these movies. At the age of 16, the films seemed thematically different and outstandingly graphic. This is not to say that Hollywood had not started its own exploration of torture porn. However, the ‘Wrong Turn’ series or the million remakes of ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ followed a stereotypical plot that had been done to death with a generous sprinkling of blood and gore. What the French Extremity genre gave me was perhaps a way to make sense of the depravity that haunted me in real life. I was also happy to ignore how exploitation cinema incorporated hardcore trauma, using it as a plot device without adequate trigger warnings.
In ‘Irreversible’, we see Monica Bellucci’s character stripped of her dignity and brutally subjected to psychological, physical and sexual violence on screen. This incident is a convenient plot point throughout the movie as we see two men go on a manic journey to ‘avenge’ her. I saw it as a run-of-the-mill rape and revenge movie that placed a bit too much glory on its male protagonists. Similarly, Aja’s ‘High Tension’ was a shocking revelation of corrupt humanity. Quandt’s description of these movies filling “each frame with flesh, nubile or gnarled, and subject it to all manner of penetration, mutilation, and defilement” stood heavily accurate. ‘High Tension’ toned down the sexual violence and upped the gore factor. However, as many horror film enthusiasts would know, this movie’s ending leaves much to be desired, with the unseen killer being revealed as a deranged queer woman kidnapping and torturing her friend whom she claims to love. Representations of queerness as evil were not new but perhaps not this distinctive.
Not having the language or vocabulary to elucidate my sexuality yet, I once again accepted the movie as another work of fiction without any impact on my real life. Through the years, however, I have questioned how harmless this movie’s impact might have been. Having had the privilege to explore my identity openly, I acknowledge that I might not have been able to dispel the ingrained belief that queerness is inherently evil if I hadn’t had access to the resources I do. Unfortunately, this may not be true for many young queer folks who stumble upon movies like ‘High Tension.’ Its brutal depiction of what sexuality that is transgressive can supposedly lead to is horrific in itself. The inclusion of an unhealthy attachment style, an exaggeratedly masculine appearance, and a perceived unstable lifestyle in its lesbian anti-hero character paints a troubling picture. It almost acts like a pedagogical tale against queerness.
My disdain towards the French Extremity grew to the extent that I dismissed any and all films related to the genre. However, Coralie Fargeat’s 2017 film ‘Revenge’ was a modern retelling of the rape and revenge trope that numerous male filmmakers had relied on. The movie was a refreshing break from what Laura Mulvey called the ‘male gaze.’ The movie, beautifully shot in a Moroccan desert, is stylised to empower its female protagonist. Unlike the previous depictions of women in rape and revenge movies being demure and almost puritanical, Jennifer in ‘Revenge’ is a woman who is proud of her sexuality and wears it on her sleeve. She is shown to have an affair with a married man knowingly and has no qualms about it. However, the arrival of her partner’s friends begins to rob her of her agency. They sexualise her without her consent, and Fargeat does a brilliant job at depicting what and how insidious the male gaze is when we see Jennifer through the eyes of these two men.
Another interesting theme that follows the first act of the movie is the nuanced exploration of consent. As mentioned earlier, Jennifer is in a sexual relationship with a man she is attracted to. Although she is unafraid to dance with the sleazy men who stare her down, she and the audience are dismayed that they misinterpret her willingness to be fearlessly sexual as an invitation to violate her consent. However, the movie does not have a 10-minute scene depicting the violence. The camera pans away, and Fargeat consciously chooses not to shove rape down the audience’s throat as a shock factor. The rest of the movie pretty much follows the badass Jennifer as she avenges herself by murdering the perpetrators. I could write an essay on how ‘Revenge’ is a film that takes back ownership of the New French Extremity, but female filmmakers before 2017 were doing the same.
An example that stands out to me is Catherine Breillat’s film ‘Romance’ released in 1999. ‘Romance’ is a beautiful exploration of feminine sexuality. The protagonist, Marie, is a woman frustrated with her non-existent sexual relationship with her boyfriend. You may ask, why is ‘Romance’ a part of the New French Extremity cinema? Well, because the film has graphic depictions of sexual encounters. While films to come relied on sex as violence, Breillat’s exploration was more from the perspective of beauty and liberation. Released in 1999, the film dealt with themes like BDSM and unconventional sexual desires with a strong lens of acceptance. Bear in mind Breillat’s exploration of unconventional sexuality came before ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ made it cool. This subversive depiction of sexuality echoed a feminist approach to the French Extremity, which unfortunately failed to sustain itself.
‘Romance’ is a relatable movie for many young women like me. Sexuality was and continues to be a taboo for female protagonists. Sex only serves as a plot point when it is used to exploit the women on screen. ‘Romance’, however, took a step forward and said what if women actually like sex? Marie acts as a conduit between the viewers and their sexual exploration. Through Marie, Breillat is able to tell a story devoid of violence but liberatory in tone. Through ‘Romance’, the stories of many young women are brought to life with a more profound narrative journey beyond mere sensationalism. There is a heavy focus on Marie’s emotional journey, relationships, and self-discovery. The explicit sexual content on screen does not make the viewers squirm but instead tells a story of desire and pleasure. In her book ‘Pornography: Men Possessing Women,’ Andrea Dworkin writes, “The object, the woman, goes out into the world formed as men have formed her to be used as men wish to use her.” While pornography generally follows this disturbing trend of women being seen as objects of desire, ‘Romance’ is transgressive in showing the desire to be harmless and freeing for women.
Sexual trauma continues to act as a plot point in movies where it “empowers” female characters, reinforcing the notion that women can only gain strength through enduring pain, further emphasising a supposed understanding of what may be called inherent female weakness. Movies like ‘Revenge’ and ‘Romance’ made by women provide a glimpse into a world which is not made by and for men. It is a world where women are allowed to explore their sexuality as long as they hold the reins to it. Addressing societal issues is crucial, but using trauma without proper context, sensitivity, and trigger warnings diminishes the impact of these messages. Art has the potential to convey meaningful messages, but when it becomes a tool of oppression through abusive representation, it loses its purpose. I hope to see more women making films where they are unafraid to talk about and depict sex as beautiful and not something to be afraid of. The wave of French Extremity may be marked with a heavy veil of testosterone, but the queer feminist in me still wishes for more Breillats and Fargeats to reclaim a genre that turned women into mere objects made to haunt the women watching them.
swim press 