THANATOMORPHOSE

Stars: Kayden Rose, Davyd Tousignant, Emile Beaudry, Karine Picard, Roch Denis Gagnon, Erika L Cantieri and Pat Lemaire.
Writer/Director: Eric Falardeau

Rating: 4/5

The ‘body-horror’ genre reaches new heights and disturbing lows in Eric Falardeau’s Canadian production Thanatomorphose, so named after the French term given to the process of decay that human tissue undergoes post mortem. The defining qualities of body-horror films are amply provided; the loss of control of one’s physicality is a potent visual and metaphorical tool and the debutant director displays the by-products of degeneration with nightmarish style.

The most mainstream reference point for those wanting to indulge in the often gruelling body-horror experience is fellow Canadian David Cronenberg’s The Fly, in which Jeff Golblum’s Seth Brundle gradually morphs into a humanoid mutation of the titular insect (Cronenberg has a particular fascination with the field of physical manipulation, having directed the fleshy psycho-thrillers Videodrome and eXistenz). Other gross but effective examples include Brian Yuzna’s Society, Stuart Gordon’s From Beyond, William Sach’s The Incredible Melting Man, Shinya Tsukamoto’s Tetsuo: The Iron Man, Philip Brophy’s Body Melt, The Soska Twin’s American Mary and Tom Six’s Human Centipede films.

Falardeau’s grotesque, bleak horror opus takes the underlying premise to its most extreme and will repulse many. He tells the story of a struggling sculptress (Kayden Rose) whose life is a series of stalled creative endeavours followed by nights of rough sex when her brutish boyfriend (Davyd Tousignant) demands it. Alone in her small, dark apartment, her increasingly detached mental state starts to manifest as bruises, blotches and occasional hair loss. With each passing hour, the process of death takes firmer hold of her physiology; her skin turns bluish and begins to rot, her joints protrude (at one point, she tapes herself together with duct tape) and simple functionality such as swallowing and bowel control disappears.

As her body disintegrates, her fractured mental state takes hold. Much like ‘Brundlefly’ in Cronenberg’s classic, the transformation is a liberating one despite the crippling disabilities. Her sexuality, a base sensation she embraces, refuses to wane, leading to a bloody bout of self-pleasuring and a truly sickening oral-sex indulgence with her last caring male friend (Emile Baudry); a vagina-like crack in the ceiling above her bed that transform overnight pre-empts her darkening sexual mindset. Feeling entitled to retribution and descending further into bloody madness, her skewed moral compass allows her vengeful indulgences. The premise plays out to its inevitable but steadfastly shocking end.

Falardeau tests his audience by refusing to offer pat explanations to his protagonists’s situation. The viewer must become invested in the physical journey to further understand his heroine and that is a tough ask for even the most jaded viewer (full disclosure – I looked away a couple of times). The film exudes a stomach-tightening claustrophobic element, as well; the bare-bones apartment is transformed into a red-hued dungeon by films end, thanks to the visual prowess of DOP Benoit Lemire and art direction of Veronique Poirer (recalling the attic setting of Clive Barker’s equally corpulent Hellraiser).

There are some illogicalities that need to be brushed aside if one wants to fully commit (Why doesn’t she just go to the hospital, as her friend demands? Why are her muscles and organs still strong enough to sustain her despite her outer self being a mushy mess?).  But patient viewers are rewarded with a deeply contemplative, even moving narrative, thanks in large part to Rose’s convincing, committed portrayal (predominantly naked, most often covered in horrific full-body makeup) and Falardeau’s probing, non-judgemental camera.

This serious study of empowerment derived from alienation and despair is a complex, challenging, often perplexing work that probably won’t be viewed outside of the specialist genre circuit, despite certainly deserving to be.