Warning: this story discusses plot points in the movie Titane.
By the time Titane’s protagonist Alexia smashes her face on a bathroom sink to bust apart her nose for the sake of a cop-evading disguise, you’d already be well aware that the French film is a cinematic endurance test of sorts.
Some viewers, it seems, are opting out.
Julia Ducournau’s Titane won Cannes’ coveted Palme D’Or in July.
On Friday, the Sydney Film Festival confirmed that 13 people fainted during the film’s Thursday night premiere at Sydney’s State Theatre and urged prospective viewers to “proceed with extreme caution into this wildly inventive cinematic jolt”.
Following the session, commenters on social media also cited walkouts during the screening, anecdotes about friends of friends suffering panic attacks, and various comments decrying the film’s brash, antagonistic violence.
Because my preferred cinema seating is row C or below (as close to being inside the screen as physically possible), I didn’t notice the multiple faintings and freakouts occurring behind me at the session. But I’m not surprised.
Adele Guigue as young Alexia in Titane.Credit:Kazak
The Palme d’Or winner from French director Julia Ducournau, who in July became the second woman to win Cannes’ top prize after Jane Campion, is extreme – like an arthouse take on torture porn that blends David Cronenberg’s discomfiting body horror with the Saw franchise’s trollish titillation.
Body parts are mutilated with unflinching honesty. A particularly egregious abortion scene, perhaps the moment when viewers are most likely to give up on the film altogether, should at least prompt a trigger warning ahead of its next session. And the nose-demolishing debacle, a scene that literally forced me to close my eyes for about 10-20 seconds, will test any stomach.
And yet, for a movie that’s essentially about a woman who has sex with a hotrod and gets impregnated with diesel (insert the “arms shrug” emoji), it’s also a fascinating meditation on the way our bodies endlessly remain a personal and social battleground. Through her pulpish filter, Ducournau prods at bodies, both literally and figuratively – the way they hurt, heal, empower, betray, and, uh, respond to the Macarena.
In a way, Titane – with its deranged, gasp-inducing theatrics – is also the perfect post-lockdown film. After nearly two years of watching films alone on our couches, there’s a visceral delight in experiencing its ridiculous, challenging mayhem with a crowd of strangers.
It’s a communal experience through shared exasperation – from the groans of dreadful expectation that greeted a simple bathroom shaving scene, or the tension-relieving giggles that punctured an extended American Psycho-esque set-piece. Festival audiences can be a vexing beast, but even I felt pangs of tenderness for the couple in the row ahead who wearily dropped their heads at every other gush of violence.
Still, Titane is wild and panic attacks aren’t a good time. My advice? Jostle for an aisle seat, keep an eye on the exits, and pre-plan your escape route. But until those sweaty palms and palpitations start, you might as well surrender to its demented, memorable ride.
Titane screens at the Sydney Film Festival this Tuesday and Saturday, and opens nationally on November 25.
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