Um Filme Doce

Wow, this movie may not be the greatest surreal movie put to film but the director, Dusan Makavejev, sure didn't pull any punches. As I talk about the story, keep in mind that I'm not making this up. An oil millionaire is holding a beauty contest to find himself a virgin bride. It can't be just any virgin bride. She has to be willing to be urinated on by the millionaires golden penis which he proudly shows off in the film many times. No, folks, it's not a statue or anything, he just happens to have a gold penis. He finds the seemingly perfect bride but she doesn't take well to this lifestyle after awhile and runs away. She ends up in a large suitcase which ends up being shipped to France. Once there she still finds a life of weirdness and nothing but strange people. She eventually comes across a commune where a large number of people urinate all over each other and eat their own feces and rub it all over each others bodies. The story, if you can call it that, also involves a sailer and a girl named Capt. Ann who can't get enough sex. Eventually there is a love scene which takes place in a large tub of sugar which turns to a sticky red batter after being bloodied up by Ann stabbing her partner. Keep in mind this is all surrealism and perhaps a little of the directors sick self-indulgence. I only understood a little of what I saw after seeing one of the special features on the DVD. You really need to know a little about foreign politics of the 60's to understand the film which I don't. I get the feeling however that even with that education you will be scratching your head for a lot of the movie. Surprisingly, there is actually a decent soundtrack to the film as one of the songs heard was actually a hit in Europe and is quite nice. Keep in mind, this is not a sex film but uses it to attack us in an unsettling way. I promise you won't be turned on by any of those scenes. Although I can't say I really liked this film since I didn't find the entire thing interesting, I can say that it's a hard movie to be passive about because of the symbolism I actually did understand. Watch at your own risk!

Dusan Makaveyev views--or viewed, back in the day--cinema as a form of Reichian orgone therapy. He sought to do to the spectator what a Reichian analyst does to a patient: take them out of their culturally accreted "armor" and return them to the Self Within. As the therapist tries to "free up" the encrusted body, so does Makaveyev try to free us up--in this picture, with a climax that violates so many taboos of civilization I dare anyone, even the most liberal-minded, not to be helplessly physically revulsed by it. This seems to be Makaveyev's aim: to push us through our ingrained disgusts to get us back in touch with the palpable physicality of being human. This means a long scene in which the eating of a meal gets mixed up with bulimic yakking, spitting, gargling, drooling, the smearing of food, and finally, ecstatically, a display of public execration.

Back to anality, to fluids, to helpless babbling and expectorating--this is where Makaveyev wants us to go: pre-art, pre-politics, back to the anal-infantile wallow in the flesh. Makaveyev, even more than Cronenberg, is the most bodily of directors. You can almost reach out and feel everyone in this movie, from Mr. Muscles, a blankly grinning black bodybuilder, to the icky slobs spitting green beans on a huge, allegorical boat. Makaveyev is Mr. Anti-Transcendence. The tingling of nerves of our imperfect bodies is all we have. Makaveyev uses shock tactics to take us back there--like cutting from a gentle romantic scene to the ultimate anti-Reichian use of the body: Nazi doctors prodding at charred corpses.

In its wild and easy mingling of the pornographic, the horrific, and the gag-reflex-destructive, SWEET MOVIE feels like one of the (willfully) freest movies ever made. Makaveyev is a master filmmaker who was most recently found, via the Internet, as an instructor at Harvard, where one of his jobs was to "moderate" and politely sit by an undergraduate audience with Mel Gibson. Times ain't what they used to be for an anarchic, anti-ideological egghead/hedonist. Dig up SWEET MOVIE and mourn the world that could've been.

It's one of those movies, where you really question yourself how far can they push the whole thing (like the Rape in Irreversible, the "impalling" in Cannibal Holocaust and pretty much all of Saló, 120 Days Of Sodom), and why (or should it) can't that be covered with a little subtleness.

But then again, it's not a trendy shock-flick , like the Larry Clarks and the Gaspar Noés of our times. Things have their place and reason. It may get uncomfortable a couple of times, but it's always good to know that images can still affect us, other than just inducing into eating, shopping or masturbating.

Though the greatest part of this film is just how naturally strange it really is, and the great sense of humor that comes along with the whole thing. It's an extreme comedy, but they don't waste the poo jokes like the silly American Pies, they actually defecate. And, anyway, the narrative doesn't lose it's focus. The thing begins and ends as it's due.

In these times of controversial conservatives, where the J-Los gross billions on their buttocks but find it humiliating to bare a nipple on film, it's good to see that there were once different people doing different things, not really caring if their nipples were to show, if they had to drink a little urine or vomit on screen.

The satirical Sweet Movie teases the viewer with its well-executed, comical, opening scenes of the Miss Monde Virginity Contest before delivering the main body of the film, what might be more aptly titled "Disgusting Movie". Nearly incomprehensible and pseudo-symbolic, Makavejev's film is comprised mainly of scenes depicting actual urination (seemingly the filmmaker's obsession), defecation, and vomiting, combined with stock footage of the exhumed remains of apparent WWII concentration camp victims.

The film follows the separate adventures of two female characters: Anna Planeta (Anna Prucnal), a mentally ill murderess, and Miss Monde 1984 (Carole Laure), a victimized beauty who slowly succumbs to mental illness. The film's title is ambiguous, referring to the sugar and candy stocked on board Anna's boat, bait which she uses to lure her prey, and to the "sweetness" of Miss Monde's virginity. The title is also ironic in its reference to the bitterness of harsh reality. The potential meaning of the film can be squeezed out of the brief, somewhat disjointed conversation between Anna and the Potemkin mariner (Pierre Clementi) near the film's end: Mariner: "Are you afraid of the past?" Anna: "I brought a lot of sugar, but I can't get rid of the bitter taste." Mariner: "Anyway, it leaves a trace." Anna: "And the witnesses must disappear."

This mostly depressing film does have its moments -- a few comical scenes involving lovely actress Carole Laure. Anna Prucnal's striptease, performed in front of a group of young boys, is equally fascinating but anti-climactic. And John Vernon (Dirty Harry, Outlaw Josey Wales, Animal House), in the role of Mr. Kapital, is particularly memorable. Sweet Movie is certainly interesting and different but falls short of a recommendation.

This movie is not for the faint of heart. In fact, it seems as if the creators have done everything possible to make you abort viewing it before the last reel. The vast majority of people will find it offensive, disgusting, and vomit-inducing. I find it refreshing for that very fact.

"Sweet Movie" is a vehicle designed to elicit base reactions from the audience. While the plot is not coherent, the acting not ultimately believable, and the cinematography shaky at best, nevertheless the complete package is more than the sum of its parts. Especially for American audiences, I dare anyone to watch the entire movie without at least one genuine reaction of revulsion. And that makes it almost unique.