Bear with me for a moment while I make
something up on the spot that will possibly be so utterly
wrong that it will be outright laughable. Don’t worry,
since I am able to admit that what I’m about to say
is completely stream-of-consciousness writing, that allows
me to distance myself from what I’m saying, which then
absolves me from any possible blame. In fact, my ability to
bullshit on the spot managed to get me through many college
courses.
 If
I can boil it down to simple clichés, art works on
two very basic levels: the intellectual level and the emotional
level. This simply means that while one might not able to
understand the true meaning behind a work of art, there is
still enough on the surface to inspire a reaction, be it a
smile, shock, or even violence. In fact, it’s quite
possible that these base reactions are the most honest reactions
one can hope for. We can sit around all day discussing the
meaning behind Andres Serrano’s Piss Christ,
but a man who pulls the photograph off of a museum wall, throws
it to the ground and starts kicking it – he knows exactly
what the hell he’s thinking.
This brings us to the nastily confrontational Anatomy
Of Hell, by French director and internationally acclaimed
bringdown Catherine Breillat, a film that did not work for
me on either an intellectual level (though I think this is
because I am a moron) nor an emotional level. But enough of
my college-drop-out intellectualism. Let’s actually
talk about the goddamn movie.
Anatomy
Of Hell gets right into the action by introducing
us to an unnamed woman (Amira Casar) who, after a brief visit
to a gay discotheque, decides to slit her wrists in the bathroom.
Maybe it’s the grating techno music, I don’t know,
but the plot to do herself in is foiled by an unnamed man,
played by famous pornographer and swirlie-giver Rocco Siffredi,
here showing off his ability to speak in French. This saves
us from an hour-and-a-half of his famous, stomach-churning
Euro-trash accent.
When questioned as to why she would attempt to take her own
life in the bathroom of a gay nightclub, the woman bluntly
states, “Because I am a woman.”
Oh, this can’t be good.
After patching up (and a quick bout of fellatio in the park),
the woman hatches a deal with the man, paying him to observe
her, to listen to her rambling, to be an impartial judge of
her body.
 Let’s
just get it out of the way and talk about what makes the movie
so infamous: the barrage of what some would consider scenes
of hardcore pornography, not only full frontal but honest
to God penetration, both heterosexual and homosexual (don’t
be too antsy straight men, the gay stuff runs for approximately
two seconds, after that it's 90 minutes of pure vaginal spectacle).
All sorts of orifices are poked and prodded while both actors
recite director and writer Catherine Breillat’s extremist
and yet ridiculous dialogue.
 Actually,
“ridiculous” might be the wrong word to use. Here’s
an excerpt of dialogue that happens from the man to the woman
after he inserts his finger into her vagina. You decide:
“I bless the day I was born immune to you and all of
your kind. The elastic resistance of a boy’s anus doesn’t
lie about the tightness of his lower intestine. The lie about
the softness of women is hateful… the malevolent triviality
that turns them into a trap. The horror of Nothingness that
is the imprescriptible All.”
Now, imagine dialogue like that for 90 minutes.
Does this film really have something important to say about
the relationship between man and woman? Well, it’s hard
to gauge the importance of the dialogue when it’s sandwiched
in between the hardcore scenes featuring Rocco outlining the
woman’s anus with lipstick, or when the two sip on menstrual
tonics, or when a stone dildo is ejected from a vagina.
By the way, during the scenes of penetration, the camera
sometimes cuts to a crucifix on the wall. Anatomy
Of Hell is supposed to be a sexual allegory of Adam
and Eve, but stuff like that just comes off as a really silly
cheap shot.
Presentation
The film’s style is particularly dry and comes
off as almost a pseudo-documentary, and the transfer suits
it very well. The picture is sharp, a tad grainy, with well-balanced
colors. With the audio, you get your choice between Dolby
Digital 5.1, DTS 5.1 and Dolby Digital stereo, all presented
in French and it doesn’t even matter which one you choose
– outside of the club music in the first three minutes,
the film is strictly dialogue-only.
 Extras
It might seem like the DVD is near bare, with only a selection
of trailers (Anatomy of Hell, Suspicious
River, Phone, A Tale Of
Two Sisters, Oldboy, Doppelganger, and A Snake of June)
and a photo gallery, but under the director interview selection, you get a full one-hour discussion on the making
of Anatomy Of Hell with its director, Catherine
Breillat. It shouldn’t surprise you that Breillat converses
like the dialogue in her films, so if you dig what the movie’s
saying, you’ll probably find something worthwhile in
the interview.
Overall
Not enjoyable as either artistic statement
or pornography, Anatomy Of Hell comes off
as confrontation for the sake of confrontation. Any possible
message is swallowed up by the sex scenes, which, unless you’re
particularly sensitive to genitalia, will come off as blatant,
potentially unsuccessful attempts to shock. This film is compelling
strictly because you want to see what sort of sexual abhorrence
will be shown onscreen.
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