Titane

 

Titane

Starring Agathe Rousselle, Vincent Lindon, Garance Marillier, Lais Salameh

Directed by Julia Ducournau

When you take a look at international films, you notice that they're very unique among their countries, and offers a differing view on how we see the world as a whole and our own small part in it. In the world of horror, especially, other countries are absolutely (figuratively) killing it, most notably the Asian and French films, with the latter starting their own subgenre known as the "New French Extremity," focusing on a crossover of different topics including sexual decadence, bestial violence and troubling psychosis, as MUBI noted. Examples of these films include "High Tension," "Inside," "Martyrs," and "Frontiere(s)," but there's several other films that fall under this category, and the most recent entry is "Raw" director Julia Ducournau's second cinematic masterpiece, "Titane," which won the coveted Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival, becoming only the second female director to win it (and the first solo female director). Much more than a traditional body horror piece, "Titane" tackles many different topics at once, culminating in an unforgettable (for some, no matter how hard they try) film.

After getting in a car crash when she was a kid and having a titanium plate put in her head, Alexia (Agathe Rousselle) grows up with an extreme love of cars, and hate for her family. She works as a stripper for car shows, and after brutally murdering an obsessive fan, is also revealed to be a serial killer who becomes pregnant. On the run, she drastically changes her appearance and takes on the role of Adrien, a child that disappeared years earlier, and she convinces his father Vincent (Vincent Lindon), that she is his long-lost child. As Alexia continues her charade, she learns Vincent has his own issues, and opens up to him in a strangely child-like way.

"Titane" is one of those films that the less you know about it going into it, the better. Even the trailer doesn't offer much in the way of the story, and it's one that needs to be seen to be believed. It's a teeter-totter of themes, ranging from the shockingly vile to the extraordinarily outrageous, and everything in between. The film tonally shifts from a thrilling, violent, serial killer blood-spree to a deeper, introspective character study of two people and how they react to their situations, as opposed to acting on them. It's fascinating, grueling, and not an easy watch, but it's one you won't soon forget.

Sharing the screen are Agathe Rousselle and Vincent Lindon, and both command it with an iron-like grip. As Alexia, Rousselle has this carnal nature about herself that thirsts for murder, and mechanophilia (look it up if you dare), after a childhood accident leaves a titanium plate in her head, although there's hints that her mental state was far gone before then. You never get a grasp on the character's motives, as she floats across the screen bathed in the blood of others, while maintaining a strange sense of calm through it all. As "Adrien," Rousselle has to transform again from a vengeful, remorseless killing machine to a quiet, shy, mild-mannered man who tapes her breasts and protruding pregnancy belly in order to fool her "father" and his fellow firemen into thinking that she really is a man. All the while, her body undergoes strange, frightening transformations as the pregnancy ensues, again resulting in unforgettable images that'll probably never leave your psyche.

On the other end there's Vincent Lindon, who plays Vincent, the fire chief of one of the strangest fire stations you could imagine. He son Adrien went missing when he was a child, and when Alexia poses as a grown-up version of him, Vincent is more than ready to accept it. This part of the film is filled with tense moments as Alexia almost gets found out, and then you begin to wonder whether or not Vincent actually knew the entire time (the fact that he didn't ask for a DNA match at the start could be a big giveaway). Vincent himself struggles with his sense of masculinity, serving as the fire chief for a crew of buff, well-built firemen who strangely have their own rave parties where they dance half-naked with each other without a female (that they know of) in sight. The fire station itself is covered in hues of feminine colors like purple and pink, and Vincent himself struggles with what he considers to be masculinity, frequently taking shots of steroids that impact his body in a very negative way. Lindon, as well as Rousselle, tackle their characters with full abandon, completely immersing themselves into the story and providing two outstanding performances as a result.

Although it's not clearly listed as a New French Extremity horror, "Titane" checks all the boxes required to be one: there's sexual decadence to the abundance, especially at the start. Bestial violence occurs on the daily here, as Alexia is often bathed in the blood of those she murders. Troubling psychosis? That's a given from start to finish. Yet this film also tackles issues like family and parenthood (and how you can sometimes even choose your family), identity crisis, toxic masculinity, and the overall vast emptiness of being human. It's not for the faint of heart, but if you're looking for a fringe film filled with unforgettable performances, gritty imagery, and powerful messages, "Titane" would be right down your alley, as long as you're not too squeamish (a patron at the Toronto International Film Festival is said to have fainted during the showing).

Tackling multiple difficult themes at once - and with gory, unrelenting visuals along the way - Julia Ducournau's "Titane" may fluctuate in its tonal format, but you're glued from the first moment on regardless, no matter how much you might want to look away.

The Score: A+