Review: Climax (2018)

 Climax (2018)

Rated R for disturbing content involving a combination of drug use, violent behavior and strong sexuality, and for language and some graphic nudity

Score: 4 out of 5

Climax, a psychological horror film by Gaspar Noé of Irréversible fame, is fundamentally about a really bad acid trip, and let me just say that it is a movie that I do not recommend approaching if you are not sober. It's not a movie where plot is a central concern; to describe it as a film about a dance troupe that goes mad after their drinks are spiked with LSD after an audition not only does it a great disservice, it doesn't get anywhere close to the heart of the experience. It is a movie about being trapped in a party that is completely spiraling to shit before your eyes, one where everybody is miserable, scared, and panicking, dropping the viewer in as an outside observer who isn't high and is thus in a position to witness the unfolding insanity for the horror that it really is. Relying on a mix of amateur actors (save for Sofia Boutella and Souheila Yacoub, none of the people in this film had any acting experience; all were hired for their dance skills) and impeccable direction, especially the one-shot take that makes up the entire second half of the film, Climax builds an atmosphere where normality is stripped away and completely demolished over the course of its runtime. This is pure arthouse horror at its best, the A24 version of Step Up in which all that dance choreography is put to use for something wicked.

Set in the winter of 1996, we start with a series of videotaped interviews in which we see the main characters, the choreographer Selva, the manager Emmanuelle, and the DJ Daddy, putting together a dance troupe. After a rehearsal in which the characters all show off their skills on the dance floor, they gather for an afterparty in which they drink and chat about their lives. Unbeknownst to them, somebody has spiked the sangria with LSD, and before long, everything degenerates into a mess of sex, violence, screaming, paranoia, and bodily fluids as the dancers all start panicking.

We never witness their hallucinations ourselves, and instead find ourselves more or less in the shoes of Lou, the one dancer who didn't drink because she just found out she was pregnant. Instead, we get to witness this mayhem from the perspective of somebody who's not caught up in it themselves, but is instead surrounded by it and, given the snowstorm raging outside, has no way out. Once things start falling apart about halfway in, there is no escape, the film never letting up for one second as it subjects us to everything that these people are doing and subjecting themselves to. We're not the ones who are high; instead, we're the ones who have to deal with the people who are high. The entire second half of the film is done in a single take, which was not only visually and technically impressive (especially given how much of the film was improvised) but also drives home the inescapable nature of the madness on display; we never get a chance to look away from the action by cutting away to some quieter corner of the dance studio. This is a secular, drug-induced Hell, and you're not going anywhere.

The film's virtues are on display in the slower first half, too, where Noé's technical skill as a director, the improvisation of much of the dialogue, and the focus on dance create a freeform style that serves to prepare the viewer for what's about to come. They lucked out with the amateur cast; while Boutella was as impressive as she's been in everything else I've seen her in (and demonstrated that years in Hollywood have not dulled her skills as a dancer), the rest of the cast all did great work crafting characters who held my attention and interest, from the faithful Muslim Omar and the pregnant Lou whose sobriety brings them under suspicion, to the mother Emmanuelle who brought her young son Tito to the audition with her and freaks out upon realizing that he sipped some of the sangria, to the siblings Taylor and Gazelle whose relationship is plagued by Taylor's protectiveness and jealousy. There is no one central viewpoint character; everybody gets put into focus at some point in the film, helping it produce a very well-rounded cast of people. With Noé's stark realism leaving little in the way of visual trickery and artifice outside of the grand one-take second half sequence, this was a film that felt deeply grounded in its characters and its style, and kept its firm grounding even as the party spiraled into the worst trip ever.

The Bottom Line

Climax is the opposite of a stoner flick, a movie where sobriety makes its oppressive tone hit that much harder even though I imagine it'd be a very different experience if you were to take acid before watching. Like many of Noé's films, it's not an easy watch, but if you can get through its grueling atmosphere, you're in for one wild ride.