Showing posts with label Catherine Denevue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Catherine Denevue. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Repulsion (1965)

Roman Polanski has done far more film-wise to make apartments the living embodiment of psychological hell on Earth than anyone alive, and saying his low-budget English-language debut “Repulsion” stands above “Tenant” or “Rosemary’s Baby” is one massive compliment. Catherine Denevue plays Carol, a manicurist living with her aloof sister in London, zombie shuffling to and from work, staring at sidewalk cracks, and from her bedroom to the loo, staring at the razor of sister’s (married) sugar daddy. She glazes out, does not talk, and fears the leers or touch of any man. In quick succession, a suitor comes on strong and her sister leaves for vacation, acts that push Carol off her ledge into shocking hallucinations and depraved acts. Carol has a past that purges out at the finale as we learn her hellish torture is not over by half. Polanski works with brimstone, fear, and one hell of an actress, laying the way for the nightmares of “Baby,” his horror masterpiece of stifled women. Sick irony or inevitable that Polanski had his own misogynistic demons to spew years later? A near-unbearable must-watch classic that left me gasping, and spawned the recent dark daughter of “Black Swan.” A+

The Hunger (1983)

“The Hunger” is so ’80s, I felt like popping over to MTV for a full night of music videos and the Moon Man. Drenched in equal parts German techno rock and blood, with sex on top, Tony Scott’s gothic thriller follows a love triangle between a vampire (Catherine Denevue), her undead boy toy (David Bowie), and a NYC doc (Susan Sarandon) who studies aging disorders, ironic as Denevue’s blood-sucker won’t age and Bowie’s poor sap is dying fast no matter how much young blood he drinks. (The couple tutors a neighbor girl on violin; let’s just say Mom and dad deserve a refund.) I won’t dive too much into plot or fates, but I can’t let go the bat-shit-crazy WTF studio-demanded epilogue that takes a stake and a blowtorch to every nuance and act of violence that came before it, all for the hope of a sequel. (Why!?!) It does not help that Scott, being Scott, overloads on smash edits, hellish strobe lights, and making everything so serious. A sex scene with Denevue and Sarandon should not be boring. Scott makes it boring. Hunger is overstuffed from the start. Often, being left hungry for more is better. Is it not? C+