Doriana Gray (1976)

AKA Die Marquise von Sade (The 1000 Shades of Doriana Gray), Das Bildnis der Doriana Gray (The Portrait of Doriana Gray), Dirty Dracula and Ejaculations 

Given the oftentimes highly sexual nature of his films, Jess Franco was, and still is labeled a pornographer by detractors. While this is hardly surprising with low hanging fruit being the easiest to pick, what’s ironic is that the films which lead most people who don’t understand Franco’s work to refer to it as porn are hardly pornographic. Of course that’s not to say that Franco didn’t directed his share of hardcore adult features which indeed he did, mainly in the 80’s and for commercial purposes. Franco himself was the first to admit that he had little interest in shooting hardcore films and the work bored him. Its well known that Franco’s films often suffered at the hands of producers and distributors and many of his films exist in several versions due to the common practice of a hardcore version of a film to be released featuring pornographic inserts in order to sell the film in different markets. Some of the most famous examples being Female Vampire (1973), The Other Side of the Mirror (1973), Lorna the Exorcist (1974) and The Hot Nights of Linda (1975). What makes Doriana Gray unique is that not only is the hardcore version is the most widely seen and accepted and perhaps the right version to watch, the film also stands as one of Franco’s most genuinely haunting featuring what is quite possibly Lina Romay’s finest performance.

A journalist from a woman’s magazine (Monica Swinn) arrives at the estate of secluded millionaire Doriana Gray (Lina Romay) believing that Doriana’s story would interest her readers. Perpetually lonely, Doriana possesses eternal beauty at the cost of draining the life of her lovers. Doriana is also incapable of feeling sexual pleasure, the results of complications that arose after being separated at birth from a twin sister (also Romay) whom Doriana keeps locked away in an asylum, driven mad by lust from feeling all of the pleasure Doriana cannot. While recounting her tale to the journalist, Doriana comes to the realization that her starvation for physical satisfaction and her sisters nymphomania are drawing the sisters, and their eventual fates closer.

Franco was certainty no stranger when it came to drawing parallels between sex and death, perhaps most famously with Female Vampire, a film which Doriana Gray shares several similarities with, and would continue to do so for the rest of his career although in many ways Doriana Gray could be considered the final word on the subject as far as Franco is concerned as never before had he approached the topic in such a direct manner. Just like in Female Vampire, Franco recycles the idea of the morose woman longing for impossible companionship sucking the life force (albeit regretfully) from her lovers through sex, yet here Franco takes the idea much further with the addition of a twin sister making the film much more tragic and perverse. From a technical and narrative standpoint the film is quite minimal, driven by a seedy mood of uneasiness that is persistent throughout which contrasts nicely with the beauty of Doriana’s estate and the surrounding locations as well as the hypnotizing exotic, eastern flavored score. Franco operated the film himself making it much more personal, idolizing Lina like never before who delivers a truly astonishing performance, particularly in the role of the twin sister who’s outbursts of raw sexual mania are legitimately frightening. Despite featuring hardcore scenes, the film could hardly be considered “erotic” taking into considering the material and the air of melancholy the surrounds the film and Franco makes no attempt to eroticize the sex scenes either never forgetting the doom that follows Doriana everywhere.

Ascot Elite released the film as part of their Jess Franco Golden Goya Collection under the Die Marquise von Sade title which included the softcore edit of the film as a bonus and its ironic that the soft version suffers from the same problems that most hardcore edits of Franco’s films suffer from. The biggest issue being the jumpy editing making it glaringly obvious that something had been edited out but what’s also obvious is that there is footage which was clearly shot after the original film had been finished and added in at a later date. Interesting thing regarding the timing of the release of Doriana Gray, its was released the same year as In the Realm of the Senses (1976), of the most important “mainstream” films to feature hardcore scenes. Given that films featuring unsimulated sex have essentially become somewhat respectable, it’d be interesting to see how the film would fare if it were released today compared to a Catherine Breillat film or say Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac (2014). Doriana Gray holds an interesting spot within Franco’s filmography because of it being of the very few, possibly the only one of his films where the hardcore scenes actually work but the main selling point of the film is Lina’s jaw-dropping performance elevating Doriana Gray to an entirely new level. An adult horror masterpiece and one of Franco’s and Lina’s finest hours.

Helter Skelter (2000)

Its often been said that a true film adaptation of one of the Marquis de Sade’s writings would be virtually impossible for a variety of reasons so there’s always bound to be debates among de Sade aficionados as it relates to filmed versions of de Sade’s work and just how much of the original text is represented on screen. Beginning with Justine (1968) and going all the way to his digital era with Flores de perversion (2005), an entire book could be written on the influence de Sade had on Jess Franco. Franco probably understood de Sade better than any filmmaker to approach his writings. Even when Franco greatly deviated from the source material the spirit of de Sade’s original story always remained as evidenced by his many adaptations of Philosophy in the Bedroom like Eugenie… the Story of Her Journey into Perversion (1969), Plaisir à trois (1973) and Sinfonía erótica (1980) as well as a film like Eugenie de Sade (1970), Franco’s unique take on Eugenie de Franval. Even films Countess Perverse (1973) and The Sexual Story of O (1984), which weren’t intended as de Sade adaptations are nonetheless distinctly Sadean in nature. Despite its title, Helter Skelter might not have anything to do with Charles Manson, however it has everything to do with the spirit of de Sade with Franco channeling the divine Marquis for one of his most experimental pieces.

“Plotless” is a word often attributed to Franco’s films however in the case of Helter Skelter the term is applicable. There literally is no plot. While not based on any specific de Sade text, the film instead consists of random scenarios inspired by de Sade’s writings. Aside from a very brief instance late in the film, there is no dialogue, however several voice-over narrations reading de Sade quotes are heard throughout the film. One quote in particular,“I abhor nature” makes multiple appearances, with the first quote heard in the film being “…I abhor Nature and I detest her because I know her well. Aware of her frightful secrets, I have fallen back upon myself and I have felt… I have experienced a kind of pleasure in coping her foul deeds.” as spoken by Almani the chemist in de Sade’s Justine. Another Almani quote is heard later in the film “ …disgust with life becomes so strong in the soul that there is not a single man who would want to live again, even if such an offer were made on the day of his death.”,which in the book is actually said right before the first quote. Clearly the first quote has significance. If Franco intended the film to be about anything, it would appear that the films vignettes all depict individuals attempting to corrupt Nature, a quintessential Sadean theme with Nature dictating the libertines principles so is there any act more rebellious or libertine than attempting to offend that which governs?

Setting aside the de Sade influence for a moment, the film could also be read as Franco simply filming his own fantasies and as an actual viewing experience the film can be quite hypnotic, taking place in its own perverse netherworld consisting of sadomasochism, revenge and murder. The film takes a turn for the surreal right away during the first segment, a lesbian liaison between Lina Romay and frequent Franco actress during the One Shot Productions era, Mavi Tienda, thanks to Franco’s bizarre little touches such as Tienda wearing a bright pink fright wig, seen often in Franco’s films of this era and the puzzling use of a green glass head as a prop. The same random and bizarre mood is a constant throughout the entire film, aided greatly by the laid back jazz score along with the lethargic blues guitar cues lifted from the Vampire Blues (1999) soundtrack. Franco also does something interesting in that he utilizes spliced-in footage from other films made around the same time, the biggest chunks taken from Dr. Wong’s Virtual Hell (1999) but there are bits and pieces from Vampire Blues sprinkled in as well. Despite the footage being recycled, it never really comes across as pastiche, particularly the lengthy whipping scene from Dr. Wong’s Virtual Hell as it perfectly fits in with the films de Sade theme and the brief bits from the virtual reality segments taken from the same film and re-used here also take on a different context, that being one of Sadean excess.  

It would appear that Franco had intended Helter Skelter to be the first part in a series of sorts as the opening credits read “Helter Skelter Part One: Pleasure and Pain”. The “Pleasure and Pain” subtitle could also be somewhat of a clue as to what Franco might have been going for thematically. Another interesting thing is that in North America the film has only been made available on DVD as a bonus feature or as part of a double feature set, debuting on disc as a bonus on the original DVD release of Franco’s Broken Dolls (1999) although the more economic choice would be the “Cravings of the Depraved” set along with Dr. Wong’s Virtual Hell. Helter Skelter may be of limited appeal being one of Franco’s digital efforts however de Sade enthusiasts should find the film of interest. The final de Sade quote heard in the film, the last parts of which are read by Franco himself, “Imperious, choleric, irascible, extreme in everything, with a dissolute imagination the like of which has never been seen, atheistic to the point of fanaticism, there you have me in a nutshell, and kill me again or take me as I am, for I shall not change.” couldn’t have wrapped the film up more perfectly as not only does it sum up de Sade, but portions of it also pertain to Franco’s approach to filmmaking.

Dr. Wong's Virtual Hell (1999)

An endless source of fascination concerning the labyrinth filmograpgy of Jess Franco is the “mapping out”, for lack of a better term, of Franco’s cinematic universe. Franco’s body of work is a maze of reoccurring motifs and its always interesting noticing little references in his films made to his other films and piecing together the puzzle of how one film relates to another. Common character names are another reoccurrence in Franco’s films with names like Dr. Orloff, Morpho and Lorna just to name a few constantly making appearances. As Franco’s career progressed, the more self-reflexive his work became, with his later digital features for One Shot Productions like Vampire Blues (1999) and Snakewoman (2005) being loaded with nods to his past films. While working for producer Harry Alan Towers, Franco directed two films in the Fu Manchu series based on the writings of Sax Rohmer starting Christopher Lee, The Blood of Fu Manchu (1968) and The Castle of Fu Manchu (1969) and portions of the Fu Manchu universe would pop up again over the years, even in Franco’s final film Al Pereira vs. the Alligator Ladies (2013). While not an “official” Fu Manchu film, 1999’s Dr. Wong’s Virtual Hell certainly finds Franco channeling Rohmer’s super villain with Franco himself playing the lead role as the titular Dr. Wong in one of his most unique and ambitious films from the One Shot Productions era.

Dr. James Wong (Franco), a once powerful alchemist who terrorized the occidental population of the orient is now a shell of his former self after having been defeated by the wizard Cagliostro (Howard Vernon in archival footage from The Erotic Rites of Frankenstein (1973)). About to commit hari-kari, Wong’s daughter Tsai Ming (Lina Romay) proposes a plan to restore Wong to his former glory by using virtual reality to kidnap the daughter of a rich businessman and demand a ransom. Wong agrees and the scheme is put into motion, although detectives Nelly Smith (Romay in her “Candice Coaster” alter-ego) and her partner Doc Petry are put on the case. Aided by Nelly’s visions of Cagliostro from beyond the grave, Nelly and Doc set out to defeat Dr. Wong for good.

Even though at this point calling a Franco film strange and claiming that it defies genre pigeonholing is beyond redundant, the fact remains that Dr. Wong’s Virtual Hell is a bizarre, genre hopping curiosity. Usually the concept of virtual reality is put to use in science fiction scenarios but here Franco puts it use in an odd horror, fantasy and crime film hybrid with a bit of comedy thrown in as well. As for the Fu Manchu connections, the biggest one would obviously be the character of Dr. Wong but also the detectives Nelly Smith and Doc Petry who are clearly recalling Fu Manchu’s pursuers Nayland Smith and Doctor Petrie. Franco as Wong gleefully hams it up in the role adding greatly to the films comedic tendencies as does Romay when her bubbly alter-ego “Candy Coaster” takes over for the role of Nelly Smith. Visually, the film is one of Franco’s most interesting as it sees Franco taking his digital experimentation to the next level by altering the image so much that at times the film appears to be animated. Going even further, there are instances where dialogue is replaced by text bubbles turning the film into a literal comic book movie. This is put to great use during the virtual reality sequences which are given an extra boost by the stunning presence of Analía Ivars as Loba, Tsai Ming’s henchwoman in one of her most striking roles, easily on par with her role in Vampire Blues and at times even rivaling it.

Interesting thing regarding the film, despite getting a solo Spanish DVD release, Dr. Wong’s Virtual Hell has never gotten its own DVD release in North America. The film first hit disc as a bonus feature on Sub Rosa Studio's release of Franco’s Snakewoman, easily the best of Franco’s One Shot Films. The disc is now out of print and for the longest time commanded some outrageous prices even for used copies although as of late copies have been popping up for more reasonable prices. Of course, being a One Shot film means that the film was re-released by Sub Rosa on a set entitled “Cravings of the Depraved” as a double feature with Franco’s experimental Marquis de Sade inspired piece Helter Skelter (2000), a film which despite its title has absolutely nothing to do with Charles Manson. The decision to pair the two films for the set was apt as Helter Skelter features spliced in footage from the former film, namely an extended sequence of Analía Ivars whipping co-star Rachel Sheppard as well as snippets from the virtual reality scenes re-edited in various ways so the two make for an interesting double feature. As for Dr. Wong’s Virtual Hell on its own, like all of Franco’s later films its incredibly divisive but its unique visual design and genre blending make it worth the time of those willing to take a chance on it.

Body Chemistry (1990)

Although it became fully defined in the 80’s and its origins can be traced back to decades before, if there’s one genre that could be considered synonymous with the 90’s it’s the erotic thriller. On the Hollywood side of things, Michael Douglas was the king and Sharon Stone the queen of the genre and even a screenwriter like Joe Eszterhas became a household name thanks to his scripts for films like Basic Instinct (1992), Sliver (1993) and William Friedkin’s criminally underrated Jade (1995). Then there were the numerous direct to video/late night cable (“Skinemax”) B-films usually starring the likes of Shannon Tweed, Shannon Whirry and Maria Ford. It was virtually impossible in the 90’s to be channel surfing late at night and not encounter such films or be browsing through a video store and not come across numerous films of the like with enticing cover art to go along with the provocative titles. It was however, an 80’s film that is usually credited with for starting the erotic thriller craze. Despite essentially being a Reagan-era version of Clint Eastwood’s Play Misty For Me (1971), Fatal Attraction (1987) nonetheless captured the cultural zeitgeist and as a result many producers saw dollar signs. One such producer was Roger Corman who’s Concorde-New Horizons unleashed Body Chemistry, a film that was not only at the forefront of the 90’s erotic thriller boom but also one of the best and a film that would become a calling card film of sorts for its director, the undervalued Kristine Peterson.

Sex researcher Tom Redding (Marc Singer) is tasked with acquiring a lucrative contract for his lab from Dr. Claire Archer (Lisa Pescia), a fellow scientist with big money connections. While researching sexual response, Tom and Dr. Archer embark on a passionate affair with Archer taking Tom to his sexual limits, although soon Tom, a happily married father begins to have regrets and ends the affair. Dr. Archer and her overactive libido however arn't exactly ready to stop, and Tom soon finds himself in a dangerous situation, relentlessly pursued by a sex maniac determined to have him no matter what.

Body Chemistry isn’t a film that’s going to be recognized for having the most original screenplay as the storyline is admittedly very similar to Fatal Attraction which is clearly why Corman green-lit the film in the first place, however with Peterson at the helm the film becomes much more than just a mere cash-in. An apt analogy would be that Body Chemistry is to Fatal Attraction what Night Train Murders (1975) is to Last House on the Left (1972). Similar set-up’s, different agendas. Ultimately, Fatal Attraction was a piece of Hollywood fluff who’s psychological interests were fairly surface level whereas in Body Chemistry psychosexuality comes to the forefront resulting in a much darker film. Peterson is clearly fascinated by the idea of sexual power dynamics and control, taking the film down some obsessive and fetishistic roads involving S&M and sex tapes and Peterson slyly avoids any hypocritical moralizing by never picking sides. Another thing that sets the film apart from Fatal Attraction is the motivations of the antagonist. In Fatal Attraction, Glenn Close’s character Alex mentally unravels as a result of unrequited love. Lisa Pescia’s Dr. Archer however is simply a raging nymphomaniac who’s motivations for the majority of the film are purely sexual. This makes her not only a more interesting character but more dangerous as its clear she’s getting off in more ways than one in her tormenting of Tom. Pescia smolders in the role radiating sexuality and mystery and also the danger that comes with those qualities. The perfect femme-fatale.

Interestingly, despite belonging to a genre known for going direct to video, Body Chemistry did get a theatrical run and was actually Corman’s highest grossing domestic theatrical release for Concord and went on to spawn not one but three sequels, although unfortunately Peterson didn’t return to direct any of them and all three went direct to video. Pescia however did return for Body Chemistry 2: Voice of a Stranger (1992) which was directed by Adam Simon who would go on to direct the fascinating IFC documentary The American Nightmare (2000). Body Chemistry 3: Point of Seduction (1994) and Body Chemistry 4: Full Exposure (1995) were both directed by exploitation legend Jim Wynorski and starred 90’s erotica regulars Shari Shattuck and Shannon Tweed respectively. The sequels are entertaining for what they are however had Peterson stuck around the series really did have the potential to be something special. Much like her debut feature, the psychological slasher Deadly Dreams (1988), Body Chemistry is an example of Peterson elevating the material beyond what is normally expected from the genre while at the same time fully embracing the genre, delivering all the sleazy thrills any successful erotic thriller must contain along with some perverse humor. Body Chemistry is a stylish, sexy and perfectly cast erotic potboiler with an excellent psycho in Claire Archer and a film that would cement the obsessions that would define Peterson’s best work.

A Dirty Shame (2004)

In December of 2014, Jason Bailey of Flavorwire wrote a fascinating piece entitled “How the Death of Mid-Budget Cinema Left a Generation of Iconic Filmmakers MIA” going into great detail about how the changes in the film industry zeitgeist over the years has resulted in many directors whose films usually fall in-between what is considered “low budget” by Hollywood standards and the mega-budgeted blockbusters which dominate the current cinematic landscape have gotten lost in the shuffle. The article quotes several filmmakers and one of the directors profiled was John Waters. Its hard to believe, and more than a bit depressing that its been 11 years since Waters has directed a film. Waters has hardly been reclusive though, embarking on spoken word performance tours, publishing the books Role Models and Carsick: John Waters Hitchhikes Across America which detailed Waters’ cross-country hitch-hiking journey from Baltimore to San Francisco, and more recently conducting fascinating live on stage interviews with the likes of David Cronenberg and Isabelle Huppert. Waters’ last film to date, 2004’s A Dirty Shame could very well be seen as a “back to his roots” film so to speak. Certainly Waters’ most gleefully vulgar film since the 70’s, A Dirty Shame is also one of his most brilliant, filled with Waters’ typical spot-on social satire as well as featuring some of the filthiest, fall on the floor hilarious comedic bits in Waters’ entire oeuvre.

The Harford Row area of Baltimore is comprised of two distinct groups, “neuters” who are disgusted by anything remotely sexual and on the complete opposite end of the spectrum, sex addicts. Repulsed by her husbands advances and keeping her abnormally large breasted exhibitionist daughter who goes by the name “Ursula Udders” locked in her room, Sylvia Stickles (Tracey Ullman) is perhaps the most defiant neuter until an accidental blow to the head results in a concussion and Sylvia, like all other concussion sufferers on Harford Row, is now a sex addict. Under the guidance of Ray-Ray (Johnny Knoxville), the leader of the sex addicts, Sylvia learns that she is the 12th apostle, destined to think of a never before heard of sex act, although Sylvia’s mother becomes determined to save her daughter from a world of perversion which leads to complete mayhem with the sex addicts determined to take over Harford Row.

Just as Serial Mom (1994) was released in the early days of Court TV where constant trial coverage in real time was a relatively new thing and the line between criminal and celebrity became even more blurry, A Dirty Shame is yet again another instance of Waters’ perfect timing when it comes to satire. Looking back at the American political climate of 2004 when the film was released during the Bush administration with issues such as gay marriage being of the most contentious issues of the day, A Dirty Shame couldn’t have been more on the money. Waters’ masterfully lampoons the tendency of society as a whole to view and judge individuals based solely on their sexuality and also gives the views of both the extreme right and left regarding sex a proper skewering. To the right, those with more liberal views towards sex are nothing more than oversexed perverts out to corrupt society while the left considers those on the more conservative side of the sociopolitical arena repressive religious zealots out to condemn sexual freedom. As exaggerated as the film is, Waters’ observation isn’t at all inaccurate. Water’s brilliantly avoids any instances of pretentiousness in his commentary given the over the top nature of the films humor which, as always with Waters is absurd, risqué and hysterical, made even funnier by some of the ridiculous fetishes on display, the soundtrack comprised of dirty gimmick songs and the gusto performances of Ullman, Knoxville and an especially hilarious appearance by longtime Dreamlander Patty Hearst.

Perhaps the perfect timing of A Dirty Shame ended up working against it. For starters it was given the NC-17 rating by MPAA which is of course often referred to as a kiss of death by many filmmakers as it severely limits a films audience which results in fewer ticket sales in the few theatres it might actually stand a chance playing in. There’s also the issue of advertisements with some television stations refusing to air TV spots for NC-17 rated films and also the fact that certain retail stores won’t stock NC-17 films which forced Waters to cut the film and release two different versions on DVD with the cut version being hilariously labeled the “neuter version”. In Kirby Dick’s fascinating documentary This Film Is Not Yet Rated (2006) which exposes the inner workings of the MPAA, Waters is interviewed describing his issues with the super secretive organization regarding A Dirty Shame. When Waters asked for specifics regarding what the ratings board took issue with, their response was at some point during the film they simply stopped taking notes. Apparently a lot of the jokes went over the heads of most critics too as the film earned Waters some of his harshest reviews. Topical when it was first released, A Dirty Shame is still plenty potent, and proof that Waters' voice is sorely missed and one contemporary cinema still needs to hear.

Sweet Whip (2013)

AKA Sweet Obsession

Takashi Ishii’s adaptation of Oniroku Dan’s S&M novel Flower and Snake (2004) marked a kind of turning point in the Japanese maverick auteur’s cinematic career. While sadomasochism was clearly a topic that has always interested Ishii, with Flower and Snake S&M came to the forefront and for the majority of Ishii’s output ever since S&M has became a favored topic with each film becoming more obsessive and fetishistic and all the more fascinating as a result. This has naturally polarized audiences with many dismissing his recent output as overlong and indulgent. Ishii followed up Flower and Snake with a sequel which further explored the psychology behind sadomasochistic fantasies as well as the role S&M played in marriage. While Ishii’s next film, The Brutal Hopelessness of Love (2007) wasn’t specifically about S&M, the masochism of its main protagonist was ever apparent and was a major piece of the films psychological puzzle. In A Night in Nude: Salvation (2010), Ishii’s sequel to his A Night in Nude (1993), in what has gone on to become the films most notorious scene and a deal breaker for many viewers, a character repeatedly whips herself for an extended length of time. Much like Flower and Snake, for 2013’s Sweet Whip Ishii again turned to a book for source material and completely made it his own resulting in one of his most potent and potentially alienating sadomasochistic masterpieces yet.  

Naoko (Yuki Mamiya), a 17 year old high school student is kidnapped by her neighbor who has harbored a long obsession with her. For one month, Naoko is repeatedly raped and tortured before managing to kill her captor and escape. 14 years later, 31 year old Naoko (Mitsu Dan) is now a successful doctor specializing in fertility however she also has a hidden side, working nights as a professional slave in an S&M club under the name Serika. With the impending death of her terminally ill mother, Naoko’s painful memories of her ordeal as a teenager begin haunting her worse than ever and dangerously bleed into the fantasy scenarios at the S&M club.

Kei Ohishi's book which the film is based on.

Unquestionably Ishii’s darkest film to date, Sweet Whip (Amai Muchi, 甘い鞭) could be seen as the culmination of everything Ishii has explored in his output for the past decade. While the exploration of a damaged female psyche is something Ishii has returned to several times going all the way back to the Angel Guts series, never before has he taken it this far and in such bleak directions. What’s really astonishing is that despite how dark a film this is, and it really cannot be overstated just how grim it gets, Ishii has always taken the side of his female protagonists and Sweet Whip is no different ultimately making Ishii’s portrait of Naoko sensitive and sympathetic, yet Ishii’s handling of such material is still bound to infuriate a plethora of viewers. Ishii structures the film in an interesting way by having Naoko’s abuse as a teen detailed via flashbacks, constantly going back and forth between the past and present as well as utilizing voice over narration throughout the entire film. The more the film moves forward, the more Naoko’s narration reveals about her current mindset and the build-up to the films climax is nothing short of masterful with the flashbacks to Naoko’s final moments of captivity before her escape corresponding with the older Naoko at the S&M club. The violently surreal finale, where Ishii presents Naoko’s distorted viewpoint, along with the fragile beauty of Mitsu Dan and brilliant use of Brahms strike an emotional chord rivaled only by The Brutal Hopelessness of Love.

Its crucial to point out that never once does Ishii eroticize Naoko’s past torments, setting those scenes in a repulsive looking basement room and presenting her captor as the most pathetic creature imaginable. Its during the stylish scenes taking place at the S&M club where the older Naoko is willingly tied up and whipped does the film cross over into the erotic territory visually while the psychology behind those scenes and Naoko’s motivations are sure to draw the ire of overly sensitive knee-jerk reactionaries. What’s also worth noting is leading actress Mitsu Dan is currently one of the biggest celebrity sex symbols, or “idols” in Japan. It should be safe to assume that the number of western actresses with the same amount of fame as Dan that would be willing to take a role like this could be counted on one hand. Dan follows in the footsteps of Aya Sugimoto and Mai Kitajima, turning in a psychical performance that puts most other so called “brave” performances to shame. The same could be said for Yuki Mamiya, Dan’s 17 year old counterpart in the film and another “idol” who goes through hell for the film. The fact that there are mavericks like Ishii still making audacious and uncompromising films like Sweet Whip and performers like Dan taking on roles like this is a good enough reason not to completely give up on modern cinema.

The Brutal Hopelessness of Love (2007)

When done right, the “film within a film” device can lead to a number of innovative possibilities. Not simply as a way of telling multiple stories, but it also gives performers the chance to really stretch their acting muscles by tackling more than one personality. Its no surprise that some of the finest examples of film within a film have came from the master transgressors. With Trans-Europ-Express (1967), Alain Robbe-Grillet presented a compelling and kinky story as it was being made up on the spot while the director, writer and producer travel on the titular railway. Andrzej Zulawski’s La femme publique (1984) explored the chaos that can ensue on a film set, the lead actress becoming “possessed”, so to speak, by the director, and the confusion between actress and character. This idea was taken to its most (il)logical extreme by David Lynch in Inland Empire (2006) where lead actress Laura Dern’s world becomes a surreal nightmare after having the personality of the character she’s playing become dominant. Fresh off his groundbreaking adaptation of Flower and Snake (2004) and its 2005 sequel, Takashi Ishii, a master transgressor if there ever was one, tried his hand at the film within a film game with The Brutal Hopelessness of Love, a staggeringly brilliant psychological puzzle film that not only stands as one of Ishii’s greatest films, but one of the best films from the past decade.      

Nami Tsuchiya (Mai Kitajima), a famous actress is being interviewed by journalist Katsuragi (Naoto Takenaka) on the set of her new film. In the film, Nami plays an actress named Kyoko who’s husband is having an affair with a younger actress. The films storyline mirrors Nami’s real life marriage as her husband has been having a well publicized affair with another actress and it just so happens that Nami’s actual husband is playing her fictional husband in the film and his real mistress is playing the mistress role. The more Nami goes into detail about the film, the more names and events become muddled as the lines between reality and film gradually become more obscured.  

Although it shares similarities with the previously mentioned films, by no means is The Brutal Hopelessness of Love (Hito ga hito o ai suru koto no dôshiyô mo nasa, 人が人を愛することのどうしようもなさ) a rehash. This is quintessential Ishii, a bizarre, erotic, fetishistic, at times blackly humorous, ultimately tragic character study of Ishii’s most fascinating variation on the Nami character yet. One of the most clever uses of film within a film, by having the film revolve around an interview it allows Ishii to constantly return to Nami recounting the details of her new film, yet the more the film moves forward it also raises the question of who exactly is Nami speaking for? Herself, the fictional Kyoko or perhaps the character Kyoko is playing? Never becoming too convoluted, the way Ishii ties it all together in the end is again, clever but the emotional impact hits harder here than in any of Ishii’s previous films thanks to the presence and performance of Mai Kitajima. While not as psychically demanding a role as Aya Sugimoto’s in the Flower and Snake films, Kitajimi nonetheless hurls herself in the role(s) with abandon, really going the extra mile. Instantly likable and unbelievably beautiful, Kitajima exudes Nami’s eroticism but also the air of sadness that surrounds her, making the films final reveal all the more potent. As is expected the film is also visually astounding featuring some of Ishii’s most extravagant neon lighting to date giving the film a feeling of surreality which perfectly compliments the films multiple personality narrative.

In February of 2014 there was somewhat of an instance of life imitating art in terms of personal marital issues becoming public when in an attention seeking attempt, Mai Kitajima’s ex-husband, actor and former J-Pop idol Mikio Osawa held a press conference claiming that a DNA test proved that he wasn’t the biological father of the former couples son. The insinuation obviously being that Kitajima had an affair during their engagement. Needless to say the tabloids ran with it and Kitajima’s name was dragged through the mud pretty badly. The couple officially divorced in 2005, two years before this film was made and it wouldn’t be the least bit surprising if taking on a role like this was cathartic in a way for Kitajima. It certainly feels that way watching her performance. This film also marked Naoto Takenaka’s eighth appearance in an Ishii film out of a total of eleven so far. Takenaka has been with Ishii from the beginning staring in Ishii’s debut Angel Guts: Red Vertigo (1988) and has been a go-to actor for Ishii ever sense with some of his most memorable Ishii roles being in A Night In Nude (1993), Gonin (1995) and Freeze Me (2000). Phenomenal actor, but this film is all Kitajima. Its her go for broke performance that carries the film and combined with Ishii’s masterful visuals make The Brutal Hopelessness of Love a certifiable masterpiece.