Elle

It’s not often that you get to see a French rape-revenge black comedy. Honestly, I’ve never seen a film like this before, and I doubt I will again. It’s not the first time that director Paul Verhoeven has turned his satirical lens to the subject of gender, and its cinematic objectification, but none of his previous efforts from the good (Basic Instinct) to the bad (Showgirls), have quite hit the mark as well as this one. And thank fuck he saved his A-game for this one. Jesus Christ, you’ve got to admire his balls for even giving this a go, because those same testes would be rotating on a media spit right now if this had missed his intended target.

Filmed in France, partly because its Parisian setting suits the mood, but mostly because there was no way in hell he was making this in Hollywood, this film is subtle, clever, and brave. But there’s really one main reason why this film is so good. Isabelle Huppert. Oscar nominated for her performance, Huppert is absolutely superb as anti-victim Michelle. Huppert elegantly portrays what I would say is one of the most complex, engaging, and honest characters that I’ve ever seen in a movie. I cannot honestly think of another actress that is capable of pulling off the range of emotions and attitudes as believably as she, simply with nuanced looks and subtle expressions. She plays the role with such an expanse, that to say that the character is sophisticated, elaborate, and intricate is a brutal injustice. It’s way more complex than that.

Speaking of brutal injustice, the movie opens straight into a home invasion, and a violent sexual assault. Reluctant to notify the police, due to being the daughter of a notorious child murderer who was linked (with some uncertainty as to her role) in his heinous crimes, she simply goes about her day with an air of nonchalance that uncomfortably defies the crime. Her day, by the way, of being joint owner of a computer software company specialising in violent and sexualised video games, and when she’s not telling her designers to “make the orgasmic convulsions more intense” she’s fucking her best friend’s husband, and obsessing over her ex’s new girlfriend. Of course the caveat of rape-revenge movies is the revenge part. However, unlike previous movies in this incredibly slim sub-genre such as I Spit on Your Grave, or Last House on the Left, which exploited both the sex at the start, and the violence at the end, to provide thrills for a fundamentally male audience, the “revenge” in Verhoeven’s movie feels as complex and personal as the main character herself.