Rejoice in the distance that fantasy gives you. There's less danger from flying debris, beads of sweat, and splinters of bone when the film explodes into a gruesome derangement of female rage and romance, where queerness is neither a liability nor a simple fact of life worth respecting. But not. That's an incredible superpower. .
Fitting into the Rottweiler Americana of gun clubs, chain-link fences, and neon signs that buzz like lightning bugs is Kristen Stewart, in a skinny mullet and sleeveless T-shirt. He plays Lou, a gym manager. Lou's father is a shady local tycoon (Ed Harris), also called Lou, who gave his now estranged daughter his name, which tells you everything you need to know about him. . That's right, his obsession with beetles and his own post-apocalyptic hairstyle, some of cinematographer Ben Fordesman's more eerie lighting settings inspired the cover of a heavy metal album. Looks like a devil to decorate.
Lou's life has been quite anemic since she left her questionable past behind and dumped it, along with Lou Sr.'s many secrets, into a deep, decidedly yonic canyon in the desert. She unclogs the toilet and avoids the pesterings of her heartbroken Daisy (Anna Baryshnikov). Daisy is her ex-lover, who was femme and cute until her smile revealed her snarky and meth-stained teeth. Lou's excuse, which only occasionally turns out to be a lie, is that she's looking after her sister Beth (Jena Malone), the bottle-blonde and beaten wife of JJ (Dave Franco). is. This is such a terrible job that it's hard to imagine a worse fate. for him. So Glass imagines it for us, and in terms of graphic gore, the head-stomping scene in “American History You need to flip it over.
But first, JJ is indirectly responsible for the momentary blessings that Lou's sordid existence has brought so far. That's when he gives Drifter Jackie (Katie O'Brian) a job at a shooting scene in exchange for a quick mechanical ride in his car. range. Jackie was a competitive bodybuilder, and from the moment she brought his rippling, sweat-slick torso into the gym, Lou was captivated. They fall into a crazy, creepy love under the pulsating synthesizers of Clint Mansell's score.
It's nice to see lesbian attraction depicted as intensely physical. Not a delicate tendency made of sighs and pressed flowers, but a nasty, carnal torment, greedy, greedy, and sometimes crushing. But the film's progressiveness goes even deeper, and the unbridled animalistic desire on Stewart's heavily breathing face whenever Lou looks at Jackie is a radical depiction of female desire that is rarely depicted. It is an essay itself.
O'Brian's impressive and ultimately protean physique shatters commonly accepted ideals of femininity, especially when enhanced with steroids, causing veins to bulge and muscles to swell like Popeye after spinach. and is deliberately fetishized. Then they had fireworks, toes sucked, and jaws removed cleanly from skulls. But the most subversive moment in this gorgeously pulpy mashup of mood, mullet, blackness, and black humor may be the close-up of Kristen Stewart, better than ever. She stares at it as if it were something beautiful to her, and she genuinely desires it, as it is said that the fate of her soulmate lover is written in the stars, all over her face. write.
R. at area theaters. Contains extensive, highly imaginative, and graphic violence. Gore. Crude language. Drug taking, lots of bodily fluids, and hilarious gay sex. 104 minutes.