Demonlover

Admittedly, DEMONLOVER makes a sharp left narrative turn at the halfway point that's going to confound viewers who are intrigued by the straightforward (and extremely absorbing) high-stakes opening. But that's no reason to dismiss the many, many things that writer/director Olivier Assayas gets absolutely right. In the end, DEMONLOVER is a fascinating mirror-world reflection (as William Gibson would call it) of where our global society might be just five minutes from now: the fittest who survive will be multilingual, career-consumed and ridiculously chic, but also soulless, as if missing the gene that supplies a sense of loyalty and ethics. The movie is a cautionary, though entirely plausible, tale of humans debased by their own lust for ungoverned capitalism. Every line of dialogue is about the business merger at hand; in the rare instances where feelings are discussed, they're usually about how *work* affects those emotions. The big wink here is that the characters don't even discuss business honestly, because each has duplicitous motives.

Technically, DEMONLOVER is a feast. Denis Lenoir's widescreen photography constantly dazzles -- many of the tracking shots are sustained in close-up (creating paranoia), and the color spectrum appears as if filtered through corporate fluorescence. (The neon-drenched Tokyo sequence is particularly hypnotic.) Jump cuts keep the narrative one step ahead of the audience. Sonic Youth's atonal guitar score creates the same mutant environment that Howard Shore pulled off in CRASH. Most significantly, Connie Nielsen's face (and hair and wardrobe) mesmerizes more than any CGI I've ever seen. Considering the labyrinthine motives of her character, Nielsen's exquisite subtlety may be lost on first-time viewers; on second look, her emotionless gaze speaks volumes.

Audiences (and critics) have unanimously attacked the `problematic' second half as an example of directorial self-indulgence. While I agree that it's not as satisfying as the first half, I don't think it's a total crash-and-burn (pardon the pun). Clearly, the ending is open to thematic interpretation, but I think Assayas is just saying that if our species isn't more careful, we'll end up like one-dimensional characters in a video game of our own devising - sure, winner takes all, but the rest of us suffer enormously.

Narrative ambiguity aside, DEMONLOVER is the great Hitchcockian/Cronenbergian espionage fantasia I've been waiting for. It makes sense that it would come from Europe, since Hollywood forgot long ago how to make their assembly-line genre exercises intellectually stimulating. (Like the animé porn within the story, Hollywood movies today represent no more than a calculated corporate commodity.) More than any other film from the last 2½ years, DEMONLOVER seems a product of the post-9/11 world - a not-so-distant future where overwhelming paranoia goads us to preemptively eliminate any form of potential competition before it can do the same to us. And how in doing so, we devour our own tail.

I expect this movie's reputation will grow by leaps and bounds in the coming years.

Demonlover is in many ways an interesting movie. The French critics didn't like it, which is a reason on itself to go to see it (the French tend to praise their own stuff most of the time). So, that's what I did. And it leaves you unsettled just like Cronenberg's Crash. Same industrial 'cool' spaces, same underacted performances (Nielsen is brilliant) and all in all a plot that goes off track near the end. When you leave the theatre, you're not sure whether you've seen a good movie or not. So what is it about? Espionage, 3D Manga porn, control & controlled, torture (physically and mentally) and betrayal. Interesting stuff that keeps you hooked on the screen for the first 1,5 hour, but director Assayas overkills the last half hour by adding unnecessary plot twists, unexplained events and an ending that kinda leads to nowhere. Still, the stunning visuals and the Sonic Youth score make it all worth the visit. Also check out Assayas' Irma Vep.

Something struck me the other day. A crow was walking close by in the beach pecking at things in the sand, it hopped twice then swooped up to some trees nearby. It was a marvelous show of graceful gliding that had me wondering: what would it be for this to be not a graceful birdplay but your own standard perception?

In the human understanding of space, it crossed a lot of distance with what seemed like considerable effort, but from the bird's effortlessness of movement it must have been as casual as a human gesture of my hand, which means its capacity to do that must come with wholly new experiences of space and time. If I could glide in a second to a tree 10 feet away, the object ceases to be 'far'.

So isn't perception not a fixed property but a relationship to space? And as that relationship, something we can cultivate. In cinematic terms, we can say that the fast moving POV from a car has been opened to us and made available as vision because someone first traveled in a car and that is when it first appeared, though the capacity was there.

Not waxing here. What I mean to say is that I'm drawn to filmmakers who wonder about these things, our placement and intuitions of space, how experience flows from them, and after this film I will always welcome Assayas in my house just as I do Kar Wai and (occasionally) Ferrara and Cronenberg.

We have here the cinematic portrait of a woman in a world in motion, a world of deceit, sex, betrayal. These tropes often packaged in the film noir and sexual thriller narratives are there so that we can have a certain motion pivotal to the thing, visual and narrative. So that we can be hooked into a heightened version of a world we know, one of competiteveness, desires and urges, and dragged along.

It's an interesting story, with rival companies vying for control of the lucrative anime market, and lots of deal-breaking and espionage. You can watch it for just its intricate noir weave of sexual identity; Assayas just loves his fiction too much to use it as a mere hanger for ideas.

What captivates me though is the creation of visual space. Assayas, if you have seen any of his films, is not as accomplished as others, he does not take an eternity to place things in just the right light and symbolic order. He rushes in to create a perceptive experience. Like others of his films, this is messy and disorienting because in his view, we are, our life.

So it matters that Assayas refuses to make a stylish film, to turn any of this into lifestyle ads, what dull Refn would do. It matters that a crucial point in the film of exposed identity happens with murder, unconsciousness and being filmed. The film, in its best spots, is all about this: intense urges in the viewing space between intense hyper- alertness and blurred mind.

I'll keep this with me for just the Tokyo segment. It is hard to be visually uninteresting in Tokyo but watch how marvelous Assayas is; the anchors at this point in the story are uncertain, the what-it-all-means yet, but the rush of visual Tokyo seduces and overwhelms, so when he drags to create visual flows, the anchors snap, it throws us hovering outside the story to find a lonely woman as the perceptive world around her throbs and palpitates.

It's all in that shot in the cab, her tired face framed in the rear view mirror surrounded by unfocused, rushing currents of world.

If a movie upsets this many people (check the reviews below), there must be something to it. Perhaps people are reacting to the insidiousness of the world of corporate espionage, pornography, lovelessness, pleasurelessness, etc. on display in every corner of the movie. Although its final 30 minutes or so veer toward incoherence--the meaning of what ultimately happens seems less interesting as a resolution than in (for example) "Mulholland Drive"--it's a cool, controlled, provocative rethinking of the modern techno thriller. It's a far more subtle and nuanced movie than the kind of head trip movies that kids go for these days ("Requiem for a Dream," bleh!), and the Sonic Youth score and cinematography are terrific.

I was originally attracted to the film on the strengths of Assayas' other films--all three I've seen ("Irma Vep", "Late August/Early Sept.", "Les Destinees Sentimentales") excellent and each in its own way unique. His work is eclectic and unpredictable in the best sense, seemingly at ease with big or small productions--in the great tradition of Jonathan Demme or Michael Winterbottom or Louis Malle. This is probably the only one of his films so far that could have attracted an American audience, but the chilliness of its surfaces apparently has scared a few too many away. It's a pity, because the film's definitely worth seeing.

I must slam this film if only to reclaim the 90 minutes or so that I cannot ever regain (I ffwd through the last half hour.) The Mrs. and I loved Irma Vep and were intrigued enough by the premise and cast of Demonlover to have a look. This film has an excellent look and feel, so you're taken in at first, until you realize there's no real reason for any of the action and you dislike all the characters, and that's just dislike, because you're not really involved enough to actually HATE them. The music selection is cool, the film even opens with a song by the legendarily obscure German band NEU! The clothes are fab, the whole thing is lit in a cool blue half the time, but the story is a wispy corporate spy drama, with its meat drawn straight from the screenplay of Videodrome. At first we thought we were enjoying ourselves, but ultimately Demonlover is a tired lay.