Pussy Power or ‘Men’s Business’?

Gaspar Noe is one of those directors I do not like but have to appreciate as an artist. Love was the first of his films I watched and it opened my mind to how transgressive a drama could be, its moral apathy and visceral shots commanding my attention. Irreversible confirms the suspicion that his intention is unapologetically androcentric, but I don’t believe in dismissing a film just because it doesn’t align with my worldview.

When I first saw Irreversible, I’d been warned by TikTok to expect the worst – a horror that matches I Spit On Your grave (1978, Meir Zarchi) in terms of its graphic and supposedly unnecessary depiction of rape. Rape-revenge thrillers have – since their inception – led to heated debates within the feminist community about whether the victims are empowered through their avengement or just further subjugated by the male gaze. Samantha Turner uses Laura Mulvey’s theory to frame her argument: ‘pleasure in looking has been split between active/male and passive/female’. She proposes that the pleasure of hypermasculine spectators is circumvented by the activity of the female protagonists in films such as Promising Young Woman, who take their revenge in to their own hands^[1]. ‘The expression of female rage in the media has been a welcomed outlet for many of the women who have so often felt suppressed and unheard’ states Ella Van Leuven, referencing the rising popularity of ‘female rage’ on the internet and how many postfeminists have felt liberated in enacting their choice to label themselves as misandrists^[2]. It is in this light we can recognise how a rape-revenge film might be comforting to modern viewers. However, it is important to note that Noe’s piece does not focus on Alex as the main character, rather the avengers, her ex and new boyfriend, take centre stage. This is considering the reverse chronology of the film, following the quest of Marcus to murder her aggressor and only concentrating on Alex in the rape scene and at the end. The men who motivate Marcus to take charge make it clear that ‘This is men’s business. No pussies allowed’, ironically conveying the hypocrisy of men in trying to redress a woman’s suffering for her. It should, in fact, 100% be for pussies, given the female friend has been defiled. This decentres a feminist perspective and instead targets male audiences that crave rough sex and bloody action, making the plot seem less justifiable in advocating for women.

Then we come to the actual rape scene itself. 9 minutes long and excruciatingly lifelike, we see Monica Bellucci screaming in agony underneath the weight of Jo Prestia; desperately reaching a hand out towards nothing. There is an agonizing few seconds where we see another man come in to shot, blurred by the shallow depth of field, before deciding to not interfere and leaving Alex for dead. ‘The gratuitous and needless violence reinforces the voyeuristic tendencies and gendered objectification such films strive to critique’ claims Anju Devadas, highlighting how rape culture has become saturated within media and that there is more potential for scenes like these to be viewed purely for gratification purposes^[3]. The motif of arseholes adds to the depraved nature of Noe’s work, linking to one of his favourite films Salo (1975, Pier Paolo Pasolini). In this nauseating exploration of fascist Italy, Pasolini unveils his obsession with shit (to speak plainly), rationalizing eating faeces and anal rape as an allegory for exercising power. The neon red tunnel where Alex is raped, ‘The Rectum’ club, and the arc shot that closes the film all allude to channels and the endless cycle of sexual brutality. But the significance of anal sex in the film, in the same way that anal is glorified in Salo, is that it subverts biological nature and – especially here – gentle femininity. Bellucci is an angelic actress, excellently portraying a character with elegant beauty but also wit when she goes to the party that night. This serves to further the devastating image of her badly beaten face at the opening, testifying to her dramatic violation. Sodomy also breaches theology, and the extreme rectal defilement of Alex juxtaposes her pregnancy as a symbol of purity.

One scene that made me reconsider my initial repulsion was when we see Alex, Marcus and Pierre joking about together before the party. Pierre teases the couple about their sex lives, continuing to pester them until they explain how they are able to orgasm together when him and Alex never could. Alex explains that the beauty of great sex is that both parties let go and feel their own pleasure, rather than focus on what the other is feeling. We then see Alex and Marcus in bed together and acknowledge the strong connection between the two. Vincent Cassel romantically kisses Monica’s naked leg, whispering sweetly to her and saying he would not be unhappy if they had a child. This is what real love-making is about, and Noe wants us to see the stark contrast between the violent pornographic material society is becoming accustomed to and genuine sex^[4]. Love hits this unequivocally on the nose, haunting viewers with its authentic sex scenes shot in celestial lighting. By including these more cultivating scenes, perhaps the savagery of those other scenes can be overlooked, if not valued for their integrity to female anguish.

As much as this film disturbed me, it also made me think about the hard facts of the world in which we live^[5]. Women do get raped this aggressively every day, and although it may seem like exploitation cinema to some, I choose to believe that it is more convoluted.