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Four years ago at Cannes, Gaspar Noe shocked audiences at the Croisette withthe graphic 3-D cum shots ofLove.
Last year, he surprised them withthe dance-horror filmClimax, the best thing hed made in ages.
This year, he put us in a mild state of sensory distress.
Once Gainsbourg actually steps on Dalles set, though, all hell breaks loose.
More like Beatrice Fail, someone says.)
Its just a bad scene all around.
But what I suspect everybody will be talking about comes in the films last ten minutes.
For the audience, the terrible lights and noises last through the closing credits.
Or in other words, only by fucking with his audience can he truly free them.
(In the lobby afterward, at least one person had clearly been crying.)
