Review by
Jane Freebury ©
This
graphic and unsettling film from an arch provocateur known for Hollywood blockbusters
is not without its director’s signature high-level sex and violence, despite the
art-house credentials. Elle, a first
in French language for Paul Verhoeven who brought us Basic Instinct and Robo Cop,
is set in the affluent world of bankers and entrepreneurs, and it begins with a
vicious rape.
On the
basis of this opening scene and several others, recommendations for Elle have to be made with caveats. Some
will loathe it. Yet it isn’t a film to write off on account of its violence (you
may have to turn away) or for the very contentious space it throws open to
discussion.
On the face
of it, there is an older professional female executive who may be in some way
undone or ‘set free’ by her experience of violent sex. There is also a dangerous
proposition that ‘no’ can mean ‘yes’ and assent may not be necessary. Both are
outrageous propositions, and while it might be reasonable to read Elle this way, it is more complex and
layered than that. Elle is based on a
popular French novel by the name of Oh…
.
The rape
victim, Michele (Isabelle Huppert), is the chief executive of a video games
firm that she has herself built. It creates lurid, violent graphic fantasy
material for gamers. The built-in contradiction that she peddles violent
pornographic video and winds up being a victim of a hideous fantasy herself is
obvious, but the film is hardly making a point of it.
Michele’s complex,
layered character is inhabited by one of few actors suited to tackle her. It is
no surprise that Huppert, always interesting and often minimalist and
inscrutable, has often been cast in her long career as a cool customer, a difficult
and complicated woman. She has been directed by the likes of Claude Chabrol,
Michael Haneke, and Claire Denis and on one occasion by Paul Cox. She played a woman
dealing with blindness for the late Australian director in Cactus (1986).
After the
rapist leaves, Michele tidies up. She sweeps up the glasses and other items
broken during the assault, has a soothing bath, orders sushi takeaway and goes
to bed. Her facial bruising will be explained as a fall from her bicycle and
she will not inform police. But it becomes clear that she intends to find her
assailant. To then do what? Does she even know?
It is
revealed that Michele is not a popular boss, more likely actively disliked, but
business is thriving. For her young male employees, imagining grotesque rape
fantasies and stripping young women for motion capture imagery is a daily
function in their line of work. Behind closed blinds in her office, Michele
conducts an affair of her own with a married colleague.
At the same
time, Michele expresses withering disapproval of her ex-husband’s new young
girlfriend, her aging mother’s gigolo and of her son’s vituperative, pregnant
girlfriend. Why is everyone in her life so hopeless? She may have a point, and
we may laugh at their expense, but she is way out of line, and controlling. It
becomes increasingly clear that self-control has been her means to survival.
The
eventual revelation of a ghastly past that she has had to leave behind provides
more than enough explanation as to why Michele won’t inform the police and
invite public scrutiny into her life again. Given the appalling media exposure
victims can receive after violent assaults, her bleak past is unnecessary
backstory. It doesn’t seem unreasonable that she decides to go about things her
own way, and won’t accept the role of victim.
For Michele,
it is all about control over her privacy. Even where it might mean risking more
violent intrusion into her personal space. It is a tribute to the contrarian
intelligence behind the film, that Elle is
able to offer its controversial agenda.
Circumstances
have brought the esteemed Huppert and controversial director Verhoeven together
to explore how a successful self-made businesswoman, sexy and single by choice,
can opt for full control and risk the consequences. It’s a provocation that
suits them both.
3.5 Stars
Also published at www.janefreeburywriter.com.au