I Hate Movie Reviews

Titane (2021, Julia Ducournau) gives us the life of a character called ALEXIA. The titanium grafted into her skull is strong and resistant to high levels of heat; yet it also can be a vulnerability if impacted by great force. This motif defines her character. 

     Alexia’s values, behavior, psychology, and motives don’t conform to those of traditional narrative filmmaking. But as a movie character, her plight pulls us in. And were I to describe the feeling her character evokes, it’s an outpour of empathy. Okay, you know that girl with the tank top that says “Never Give Up?” Notice how Alexia inexplicably winds up with it on—because that slogan belongs to her. If there’s one thing I know about Alexia, it’s never give up. Think about the scene in the airport bathroom: it’s the only time we see her smile. And why? Because she’s found a way to buy herself just a little more time. 

     But Titane isn’t so much a movie to be analyzed, as it is to be experienced. Its plot asks us to accept some pretty outlandish turns, but why shouldn’t it? After all, it’s a movie. It’s stylized artifice. The scene with that newscast on the tv leads off with its three top stories: the ADRIEN LEGRAND case closing, the fourth victim of a serial killer and a catastrophic forest fire. And those aren’t just the top stories in this fictionalized France, they’re fundamentally the premise that drives Titane.

     So while Titane has a clear premise, Alexia’s sexuality doesn’t readily offer any simple explanations. And this is what makes Titane so enjoyable—and gives it depth. The sequence with the assailant in the parking lot has the same terrifying sound cues as the scene with the low rider. Does that mean in the latter case, Alexia is exploring some kinky taboo? Or is she assaulted? Or both? Sexuality is the basis for the most pivotal scenes in the movie. 

     The opening set piece at the low rider car show is the movie’s most technically ambitious in terms of staging. It’s a long take. It fetishizes car parts and women’s bodies. And Alexia’s erotic dance could make one ask what her reasons are behind it. The easy answer is she gets off on cars. But does she enjoy arousing the audience? Is she doing it to provoke them? Does she do it for attention? Of course, Titane knows leaving these questions unanswered is best. It’s how this material derives its dramatic tension. 

     Then there’s the bus ride. Something about that reprehensible dynamic makes Alexia decide to go back to the house she just left. Again, we don’t see what happened to the other girl on the bus. It’s not about that. It’s about Alexia running out of options. Finally, the final dance when Alexia’s on top of the firetruck gives us the most insightful glimpse at her character arc. Even though she returned to live out this life, she dances the same type of dance she did in the movie’s opening scene. Because she’s used to being herself. Because it’s an integral part of her identity. And again it’s as though this arouses her to the point of giving in to the same kind of sex she indulged in right after the first dance we saw. But this time it’s entirely different. Why doesn’t it work? Why is everything about it wrong? Why does it hurt her so much? These questions are the film’s climax and so much a part of its indelible impact.

 

10/1/2021 AMC Phipps Plaza 14

Atlanta, GA

DCP