No one knows how to push boundaries quite like Gaspar Noé, and throughout his storied career, he has made films that are as innovative as they are controversial. On a personal level, while I admire his audacity and his willingness to take enormous risks, I have never truly connected with the director – it isn’t necessarily his devil-may-care attitude to storytelling or his desire to explore the darkest recesses of the human spirit through troublesome filmmaking, but the way his films manage to make the viewer so deeply uncomfortable, creating an unsettling and truly unpleasant experience. This is certainly the point, and Noé has seemingly embraced his status as a cinematic provocateur, crafting films that are truly unforgettable, but not always for the right reasons. However, he may have overcome some of his own shortcomings as an artist with Climax, a film that is no less disturbing or difficult to watch, but rather more artistically-resonant and far less repulsive than I Stand Alone, Love or Enter the Void. A film that is still extremely far from the mainstream, and serves very little purpose other than to shock the viewer and leave us in nothing short of emotionally-distraught despair – but still finds a way to be undeniably powerful, making some bold statements, both narratively and visually, and sees the controversial filmmaker actually embracing something more than shock value, opting for something much more interesting, but just as hopelessly twisted.

There’s something about dance films that divide audiences – there have been so many films over the past two decades that focus on dancers, stringing weak stories in between elaborate dance sequences. We’ve seen it with various franchises – Honey, Step Up and You Got Served being amongst the most popular in this genre, having several fans, but even more detractors, who find this mode of storytelling weak. Climax feels like Noé responding to these kinds of films, but through his perverted perspective, imbuing the central concept of the dance film with dark, demented themes that underlie an almost awe-inspiring display of human talent and the endless capabilities of the human body. Set entirely within an abandoned school over the course of an evening, a troupe of dancers are rehearsing for a major international competition which they are hoping to win. They are all extremely talented, and with the guidance of choreographer Selva (Sofia Boutella), they may just take the victory. Their rehearsal goes well, and they soon find cause for celebration, with the music loud and the sangria being shared liberally as the group dances the night away. However, it soon becomes clear that something sinister is present, and when the group starts to become agitated and uncomfortable, they surmise that someone must’ve put something in the alcohol, sending them into a drug-fueled frenzy as they grow more paranoid and violent, turning on each other, and transforming the previously upbeat party into an orgy of raw sexuality and brutal violence. The hunt begins for the culprit who secretly put LSD in the alcohol, with no one being safe from the wrath of the acid-tripping dancers transformed into vengeful, zombie-like vigilantes who relish in killing just as much as they do dancing.

Climax is certainly not like any other dance film anyone has ever dared to make – Noé challenges conventions, and with this film, he took on a genre that doesn’t offer much in the form of story, and concocts a nightmarish, deeply unsettling portrait of individuals undergoing massive change in a very short span of time. This is by no means a traditionally complex film – it is set within one location, and it is filmed almost entirely within real-time. There isn’t much of a story outside of the central premise, and it can be extremely tedious at times. Yet, these qualities that may appear like criticisms are actually merits, with Noé challenging cinematic conventions and using his unique but impenetrable directorial vision to create something unforgettable. The dance hall goes from being a shanty party venue to a place more terrifying than Hell itself, and the lack of departure from that one central location evokes the idea that there is no escape – the first half of the film is limited strictly to the hall itself, while the second half sees Noé exploring the labyrinthine hallways, which create a sense of confusion, unease and terror, as we never realize what is lurking around the next corner, or more specifically, who. Suddenly, much like the dancers experiencing the harsh effects of hardcore drugs, we are thrust deeply into a nightmare, trapped within a place that doesn’t offer any opportunity for escape, only becoming more terrifying the more we try and venture out of it.

There are certain themes that run throughout the films of Noé, who seems to be fascinated with certain concepts. These are still very much present in Climax, albeit in a way that is less heavy-handed and far more creative. Perhaps the most significant recurrent theme in the director’s films has been his fascination with the body – he has an obsession with exploring the relationship between the social and the corporeal, and this is realized in Climax through the fact that it is the perfect blend between dance and horror, two genres that were supposedly incompatible, but somehow blend into a beautifully chaotic experience that is as terrifying as it is oddly endearing. This is most definitely one of the most unsettling horror films of the year, but one that approaches the concept of terror in a very different way. Noé does not make use of much violence throughout the film, only towards the end, nor does anything supernatural ever come into contact with these characters. It is an audacious horror film precisely because, at least on the surface, there is absolutely nothing scary about its premise. It derives fear through its use of the body, featuring an ensemble of performers who use their bodies to tell a story – and as the film progresses, their performance goes from exuberant and energetic, to sinister and unsettling. As the film goes on, the dancers grow gradually less human and take on more animalistic qualities. By the end of Climax, these ordinary characters are suddenly nothing more than vicious, violent entities that bear no resemblance to anything we have ever seen before. This is powerful, visceral filmmaking and the use of the body as a tool of character development is this film’s biggest merit – dance is more than just a physical response to music. Its a deeply complex manifestation of emotion and the psychological state of the individual, and our shifting mentality and perspective of the world can change the way in which we respond to something as deeply instinctual as dance.

For what it’s worth, Climax is worth watching simply for the creativity behind it. Noé, in spite of all his faults, is a director who puts a lot of effort into making his films memorable experiences, challenging the boundaries of storytelling and delivering unique pieces that may not be great films, but are fascinating works of perverse artistry. This film is no exception – and while it may be the director’s most straightforward in terms of the plot, it also sees him at his most innovative. Structured as episodic moments over the course of a single evening, punctuated by ominous quotes, the film alternates between short vignettes of conversation between characters, and long, unbroken takes. Filmed almost entirely in real-time, the film approaches its story with a dizzying use of visual technique that is some of the most impactful of the year so far. Climax is a visceral, twisted assault on the senses, and Noé portrays this through the hypnotic lens of the camera. The highlights of this film occur towards the beginning and then at the end. There is a nearly six-minute long dance scene that starts the main plot, and it is astounding to view the organized chaos of these dancers rehearsing – never has pandemonium been so gorgeous, and shot in one single unbroken take, with the camera panning upward, downwards, backwards and forwards and in every other conceivable direction to show the starkly energetic atmosphere, as well as alluding to the maelstrom about to descend upon that school. The second is the final part of this film, a single long-take lasting over forty minutes as we see the chaos erupting and reaching its grotesque peak as the animalistic dancers run amok. On a purely technical level, Climax is an incredible film, and through the gorgeously complex cinematography and intricate editing, it finds itself becoming truly unique and certainly unforgettable. There are some moments in this film that should define both the horror and dance genres going forward, being indicative of subversive brilliance and meaningful directorial prowess.

You can say what you want about Noé – he’s had allegations of being an exploitative, manipulative cinematic vulgarian who uses filmmaking as a means to explore his own dark and demented cravings. He’s made films that leave audiences truly repulsed, creating a sick sensation in the pits of our stomachs and putting a cloud over our souls, manipulating us mentally and emotionally. He’s made a career from controversy, liberally making use of taboo subjects all for the sake of his proposed brand of art. He is a filmmaker that many people genuinely despise, and that’s not a difficult concept to understand, and I often agree with these criticisms. Yet, no one can ever deny that Noé has a great eye for visual detail, and his films are always truly original, even when they are at their most abhorrent. Climax is a considerable step towards more palatable, interesting filmmaking, and while I do doubt this will represent a new stage of art for the director (who will likely just recede back into petty provocation after this), we shouldn’t use his previous films as a framework for our judgements here, and its appropriate that the merits of Climax, as unsettling a film as it is, should be stated. If anything, this film shows that Noé is capable of making something of quality, where his perverse pretentions are temporarily put aside for more meaningful commentary. I’m still not sure if I necessarily enjoyed Climax itself, but taken for what it is, its a great experiment of form and content, and ultimately a memorable film that shows one of the most unique directors of his generation making good use of his more troubling idiosyncracies, and emotionally assaulting the audience once again, but this time in a more worthwhile manner.