Although the 34th Hong Kong International Film Festival doesn't officially get under way until Sunday, press screenings have begun and yesterday I got the chance to see Gaspar Noe's latest piece of shock & awe Cinema.
Gaspar Noe makes Lars Von Trier appear subtle and nuanced. His latest film, ENTER THE VOID, is an epic experiment in subjective narrative storytelling, with fluctuating points of view, hallucinatory expeditions through varying plains of reality and spiritual, if not theological, musings on life after death. Putting his audience in the position of the film's dead protagonist, Noe takes us up over the rooftops of present day Tokyo, before plunging us headfirst into an Inferno of sex and debauchery. He makes us unwilling participants in the hedonistic nightlife of Oscar, a young American drug dealer with a seriously screwed up family life and seemingly lacking a moral compass.
When the film begins, the camera is Oscar, and we go with him on a drug deal that quickly turns bad, resulting in him being gunned down by police in a suitably sordid toilet cubicle. The camera, now embodying his spirit, floats up and out of his body and into the night sky, leering over the hookers and johns who frequent this sordid quarter of Tokyo. For the first half of the film we revisit key moments in Oscar's life, perched just over his shoulder, and we learn of his parents' death, his bizarre relationship with his sister and his life in Japan and how he came to his sticky end. About halfway through, our perspective shifts from Oscar's life flashing before his eyes, to his voyeuristic spirit watching the aftermath of his death unfold, witnessing the fates of his sister and those around him and building towards an obvious, yet deliberately provocative, finale.
Noe's unique style is a perfect fit for exploring the altered states of ENTER THE VOID. His swooping crane shots hark back, not only to the dizzying opening of his previous film, IRREVERSIBLE, but also the infamous climax of Scorsese's TAXI DRIVER, where an overhead shot tracks back through the carnage of Travis Bickle's twisted crusade. However, while the end of that film had us rooting for Travis, even as we trembled with fear at the extent at his deranged actions, in ENTER THE VOID we feel no such attachment. By placing us in Oscar's shoes, or staring at the back of his head, for the entire duration of the film, it is extremely difficult to develop a bond with him. Coupled with the fact that his behaviour ranges from the mundane to the downright amoral and his dialogue is delivered in a sleep-inducing monotone, Oscar is quite a chore to be around, let alone to be.
This is not to say that Nathaniel Brown, who plays Oscar, is at fault - at least no more so than the rest of the cast. Paz de la Huerta, who plays Linda, is equally wooden and impregnable, slipping effortlessly into a life of prostitution and tragedy almost as soon as she gets off the plane, without ever once invoking our sympathy. Likewise, Cyril Roy and Olly Alexander play their parts without presenting characters that would pass off as real people. But then, who's to say that in this environment of skewed and violated perspectives, anything should be taken at face value or interpreted, as one normally should? But now I think I'm just being nice.
Despite these complaints, ENTER THE VOID does have plenty to recommend it. It is unquestionably a unique film-going experience and is littered with moments that will live with you for a long time - from the seizure-inducing opening credits, to the neon toy town, to the numerous imaginative and often disturbing match cuts through pivotal moments in Oscar's past. Noe effectively builds back-story for Oscar and Linda and convincingly develops the strong yet deeply strange bond they share, even if they remain inert and unlovable.
The biggest problem with ENTER THE VOID, however, is its length. At 155 minutes it becomes a tiresome ordeal. I have no problem with films being long, if they need that time to effectively build mood and atmosphere and tell their story. ENTER THE VOID has a very simple story and an easy to grasp setup and Noe's insistence on taking two and a half hours to go over the same scenes again and again, revisit yet another brothel, leer at yet another pilled-up hooker or indulge in another five minute montage of psychedelic shapes and sounds becomes increasingly torturous.
Stripped to 90 minutes, Noe could have said everything he had wanted to, while maintaining the explosive energy of the film's opening. Instead, the film's moments of genuine invention and style are left languishing amidst a sea of self-indulgent, needlessly pornographic, largely pointless tripe. By the time the film reaches it's outrageous, in-yer-face "climax", the overriding sentiment is not one of enlightenment or revelation, but rather that you have just been violated, abused and unwittingly become the butt of Gaspar Noe's sick joke.