A film that is confident enough in it’s weirdness that it chooses not to weary us with unnecessary exposition, Titane is a demented work of body horror that will be hard for audiences to forget. Julia Ducournau’s second feature begins in a relatively quiet fashion, but doesn’t take long to propel itself forward in ways that defy explanation and even, in some moments, understanding.
The film revolves around Alexia, a young woman with a metal plate in her head and a penchant for murder. This premise only makes up a short section of the film, which then goes on to explore the relationship between a grieving father and the protagonist, who positions herself in order to take advantage of the man’s vulnerability. Between this and Alexia’s seeming sexual attraction to motor vehicles, Titane sets the viewer on a journey which is anything but conventional.
Each of the leads perform exceptionally well and craft a relationship between them which is both touching and unsettling. Newcomer Agathe Rousselle (in a stunning feature debut) is transcendent as the violent and erotic Alexia. She gives the character enough depth in her facial expression rather than her fairly sparse dialogue, which only serves to make her harder to pin down throughout the film. Vincent Lindon creates a realistic portrait of a man so detached from reality that really no action or line from him manages to shock, making his character one that the audience can empathise with assuredly.
With beautifully crafted score and cinematography, Ducournau’s Titane is a feast for fans of filmmakers like David Cronenberg and Nicolas Winding Refn. What’s more impressive is that it manages to be totally it’s own original cinematic treat, relying partly on narrative ellipsis to tell it’s story and to convey disquiet in a way that will surely resonate with fans of the body horror genre. Both challenging and rewarding, Titane takes no prisoners in it’s delivery of one of the most audacious and grimly funny scripts in recent memory.
4.5/5
Get Ya Shinebox Reviews 