Titane
It won the Palme d’Or at Cannes this year. The competition had to be weak. The film is in French with subtitles.
I really couldn’t understand this film, but I think that was Director Julia Ducoumau’s intention. A 7 year-old girl suffers a head injury in a car accident that results in a titanium plate embedded in her skull. She becomes a stripper as an adult with a passion for pursuing her hobby as a serial killer. With the police closing in, she assumes the role of a missing boy. Oh yes, and she loves to have sex in cars and is pregnant. Need I say more?
Agathe Rousselle plays Alexia/Adrien, the killer girl and the boy that she impersonates to disguise her identity. To be quite frank, the film becomes dysfunctional as you watch Adrien’s relationship with the father (Vincent Lindon) of the missing boy whose identity she assumes.
He is the captain of a fire department and has Adrien join his squad. Dad injects steroids daily to preserve his youth while most of the fire fighters are young men who spend more time dancing than dousing flames.
On top of that, the film has little dialogue, none from Ms. Rousselle after she becomes Adrien. What saves this overrated movie from collapse is a pulsating, loud soundtrack that excuses the firefighters urge to dance with each other.
I could go on but why make you suffer from the same boredom I endured in the theater. While I know that many critics have admired the artistic success of Titane, I still believe that you have to be high on ecstasy to enjoy this plodding, cinematic mess.
