Enter The Void Review
Well, Mr Noé, that was quite a ride.
The film opens with the word “enter”, and enter I did, flying cameras spinning me through cross-sections of Tokyo from the point of view of lost soul Oscar, who is intent on keeping a childhood pact made with his sister.
It’s a neon-filled film noir. Long nights, long takes, a monotonous droning soundtrack, hallucinogenic computer graphics. Strip joints and hardcore sex scenes juxtaposed against nostalgic, yellowed flashbacks. A languid, hazy, drug-induced torpor punctuated by sickening, shuddering jolts of grisly tragedy.
I was pained, irritated, shocked, occasionally wowed. At one point I was amused. Often I was just plain bored. Then the screen filled with the words “the void” and it was all over.
Except it wasn’t. After the profound sense of relief I felt on leaving the cinema had dissipated, I started thinking. And thinking.
I realised all that I’d hated about the film – the melodramatic performances and the seemingly self-indulgent film work, to name just two – had uncomfortably prodded me to ponder the nature of film as a medium and our role as audience. I guess with the work of this generation of shock-tactic directors, that’s the point.
What also became evident with hindsight is that there’s a beautifully crafted tension in Enter the Void between the desire to depict the inescapable suffering of reality and the awareness of film’s inherent artifice. None of this is real. Illusions shattered left, right and centre. That’s my conclusion anyway. My own little reward for all that hard work.
So, nicely done, Gaspar Noé. Entering this experience with you was damn painful. But taking some time in the void afterwards for a bit of reflection, thinking about film in a way I haven’t done for a while, that was a pleasure.
Kathy Alys
ENTER THE VOID – Love Hotel teaser from Enter The Void on Vimeo.