
Climax is acidic beyond its literal LSD-centric plot, well choreographed and stuffed with intriguing ideas about living, socializing, and doing what’s best for yourself and loved ones simultaneously. Set entirely inside an abandoned school, a French dance troupe led by choreographer Selva (Sofia Boutella) and manager Emmanuelle (Claude Gajan Maull) practice for their next gig. After multi-day rehearsals, the group throws a party. Things go as smoothly as French parties can, initially: cigarette smoke, gossip, and vanity splatter the halls and classrooms. But they quickly realize the sangria everyone’s been drinking—a group of 22 and eventually Emmannuelle’s kid—was spiked with LSD. Their party quickly turns into a nightmarish trip of dance, lust, violence, and death.
This is the best anti-drug ad ever released. The intensity to which director-writer Gaspar Noé captures the effects of “drugs et al.” (as LSD alone does not make people do what they do here) effectively disorients viewers amidst chaotic scenery that mimics the entire troupe’s minds’ melting. People rape, boogie, lick, cuddle, mutilate, cut, kiss, betray, etc. Just about anything awful that people can do occurs, because none of them even realize—stripped down to bare, drug-driven instinct, even abortion via kick to the stomach is laugh-off-able. Plus, as Climax was shot in two weeks with no dialogue scripts, this is mostly improvisational; these people staged these things on a whim—and 22 of them are real-world dancers with no prior acting experience. Considering these feats, on top of an extensive focus on well-chorégraphed dance interludes, it’s impressive any narrative came out at all.
Unfortunately, not much of one does. Because improvisation was required, most of the movie is comprised of random conversations that never follow up. For example, Selva mentions a big scandal about a pregnancy somewhere in the group. She trash talks the circumstances, setting it up for a seemingly significant plot point. Nothing comes through; instead, another girl admits to Selva she’s pregnant before another drugged partygoer distrusts her sobriety, kicking her in the stomach and setting the mob on her. Much of the film’s first half runs like this, leaving too many unfinished intriguing ideas for an already overwhelming amount of characters. Plus, it’s structured sludgily. There will be 20 minutes of dancing, 20 minutes of random conversations of the subjects being vain and verbally backstabbing to their crew, then back to 20-30 minutes of dancing before the next big thing happens. It’s hollow, monotonous repetitivity. The camera work could be distracting sometimes too; we didn’t need an extended upside down shot of police raiding the place, right side-up would’ve been just fine! Thus, for dance fans, Noé fans and experimental film fans, Climax will at least intrigue in its impulsivity, compulsivity, and all-around insanity. Just be prepared for wild confusion and a lot of gaps.
2018
dir. Gaspar Noé
97 min.
Screens Friday, 1/17, 11:59 pm @ Coolidge Corner Theatre
Part of the ongoing repertory series: Coolidge After Midnite