To understand the world, we have to look towards the youth. For whatever reason, those who exist in the prime demographic of early to middle adulthood are handed more power than those a generation or two ahead of them, since we live in a society dictated by the idealism of youth. It’s a frustrating concept, but an inevitable one, and something that we have grown to live with, even if we’re starting to see more focus on diverse voices. I’ve always appreciated a film that can tackle the often intimidating subject of youth while also introducing certain more promising ideas in the process, as we can see in the form of Sanguine (alternatively known as Species, a far less evocative title, and one that lacks the visceral quality of the original), the ambitious directorial debut of Marion Le Coroller, who leaps into the unknown in the form of this enthralling, captivating blend of dark comedy and body horror. The film follows Margot Loiseau, a young doctor who has just made her way into one of the most coveted hospitals in the country, where she is placed under the supervision of the sinister head doctor Hélène, who presides over the training of all the newly hired doctors, intent on bolstering those who show promise, and relentlessly breaking the spirits of those who she deems unworthy of this position. Sadly, our protagonist occupies the latter category, which is made even more complex when she observes certain patterns in recent patients from her age group, whose symptoms are all so similar that she has no choice but to conclude that they are witnessing a pandemic that exclusively targets young adults, causing them to become violent beyond measure. When she starts to exhibit some of those same symptoms, Margot has no choice but to find a solution, even if it means going against every rule she learned on the journey to get to his position. A wickedly funny and frankly quite perverse black comedy that is as disturbing as it is undeniably entertaining, Sanguine signals the arrival of a major new voice in contemporary cinema, and one that we are likely going to see emerge as an exciting presence in modern horror.

That’s New French Extremity, in which many French and Francophone directors collectively came together to push the boundaries of both what could be said in film and the manner in which it was delivered. It seems like we are in an era where a revival of this movement, or rather a new stage of it, is gradually emerging, as defined by filmmakers like Julia Ducournau and Coralie Fargeat, whose particular brand of both comedy and horror has been the impetus for some renewed interest in this specific style of storytelling. Le Coroller immediately enters the conversation with Sanguine, a film that fits in with not only her peers’ best work, but also that produced by their artistic forerunners, whose work lingers heavily over this film, both narratively and in terms of execution. Focusing exclusively on the themes that usually populate these stories, we find that these are usually films built around the tense relationships between generations, with particular focus on younger people as they venture into a world that is far more violent and hostile than they expected. This is very much where we find Sanguine, which uses a disease that impacts young adults, particularly those entering into the workforce, as a clear allegory for the confusion and despair that comes with maturing into adulthood, becoming an unconventional coming-of-age story that uses very familiar genre tropes to create quite a tense and unsettling environment from which the director can make some remarkable cohesive and challenging statements, while also maintaining a very interesting approach to how it explores a number of other themes. At a glance, Sanguine seems relatively conventional, simply a deranged dark comedy about the perils of entering into the medical field (which we already know can be a brutal, harrowing profession, one in which more suffering is seen than healing), but through peeling away the layers and finding new ways to deliver some of these provocative ideas, it’s clear that there is something far more interesting at play here, much of which emerges as a surprise, so it would be foolish to reveal certain plot elements, considering how much of the story relies on the viewer being able to encounter these ideas in the moment.

As is usually the case with films produced under both eras of the New French Extremity movement, the audience needs to be prepared for Sanguine and the lengths to which it will go to unsettle the viewer. Those who can’t handle body horror are advised to keep their distance, since Le Coroller is certainly not interested in any kind of subtlety, preferring to embrace the macabre and grotesque wherever possible. If a scene can be infused with blood, sweat, tears or any other bodily secretion, you’ll find that the director does not pass up the opportunity, with nearly every frame being so deeply disturbing, filled with the most repulsive imagery imaginable. However, this proves to ultimately be part of the brilliance of the film, since it may seem like it is an unhinged, off-the-wall descent into complete madness, but there’s a restraint that may not be evident at first, but which steadily reveals itself in key moments, proving that there is a method to the madness, even if it does take some time to get there throughout. Le Coroller is certainly very gifted as far as visual aesthetic goes, plunging the viewer into a nightmarish version of reality – the hospital in which the film takes place, as well as a few other locations (such as the “Bloody Burger” fast food chain that bookends the story – an entire film could’ve just been made about this part of the story) are far more colourful and vibrant than the sterile, subdued real-world versions, which is not only an attempt to give the film its own unique identity and highlight the carnivalesque nature of its narrative, but also encourages the viewer to suspend disbelief, not seeking plausibility so much as we’re asked to take hold of the film’s very unique wavelength, accompanying it as it traverses this challenging and provocative story. Tonally, Sanguine is just as intriguing, being exceptionally funny in some parts and profoundly bleak in others. This ties into the central theme of looking at the world through a more absurd lens, one that can be hilarious or harrowing depending on what specific message is being communicated, and to be able to have such a strong control over its emotions does indicate that the film is worth more than just the gory violence that seems to be front-and-centre, but is merely a way to conceal some of the deeper ideas embedded within the story.

At the heart of Sanguine there is a performance that ties the entire film together, being the connective tissue that brings all of its complex ideas to life on screen, assisting the director in making her already very abstract vision tangible and compelling. Mara Taquin has been acting for a few years, so those who pay attention to the rising stars of the French film industry will most certainly at least partially recognise her, especially since she has a particularly magnetic quality that is exceptionally well-suited to what this film required from its lead. Considering the profoundly visceral, physical requirements of the role, it could not have been an easy process to inhabit this character, which makes her performance all the more impressive. Ultimately, a film like Sanguine is going to only work if the audience finds the appropriate surrogate – we can handle nauseating imagery and some deeply uncomfortable scenarios if there is at least a protagonist with whom we can feel sympathy, which is the key to the success of this film, since without a character whose journey we can wholeheartedly invest in, there’s absolutely nothing that can help soften the sometimes horrendous visual and conceptual blows that exist throughout this film. It’s a fantastic performance that anchors the entire story and makes some of its more questionable qualities genuinely very engaging. However, a good hero needs a strong villain as well, and Sanguine has no shortage of terrific actors to help bring these more unlikable characters to life on screen. The most obvious villain is the one played by Karin Viard, whose performance as the pernickety (or perhaps vaguely abusive is a more appropriate description) training doctor is simultaneously hilarious and profoundly evil – she’s someone who has allowed her own judgment to get in the way of her responsibilities, to the point where she becomes entirely blind to a real crisis transpiring in front of her eyes. Viard has a knack for playing these despicable, high-strung characters, and while she may be working with a more one-dimensional villain (since just about everyone other than the protagonist is intentionally constructed as archetypes), she’s nonetheless still a highlight. Many of the other young actors playing either doctors or victims of this disease have their moments, with the ensemble nature of the story being reflected exceptionally well throughout the film.

You may need a stomach of iron and the patience of a saint to truly embrace Sanguine, which is by definition an acquired taste. This is by no means an easy film, and is the exact kind of story that is intended to be divisive, with the director making it very clear that universal acclaim was never a priority here. Instead, she set out to make her version of a coming-of-age film about the perils of becoming an adult, navigating not only the responsibilities that come with entering the working world (a brutal, hostile place where success is often defined as the ability to simply survive), but also the challenges associated with making friends, finding your identity and seeking a place in a society that has proven to be nearly impossible to navigate without coming across some enormous obstacles. All of these are very common themes that should resonate with a large portion of the audience, but tend to be hidden behind layers of the most impenetrable, harrowing imagery imaginable, one in which blood and gore is used liberally, being the visual punctuation to many of the film’s most grotesque images, a purposeful decision that allows the director to express her deeply unhinged version of reality while also having some artistic resonance in the exact kind of ideas being explored at the heart of the story. Sanguine is a fascinating work, but one that is most certainly not going to be for everyone. Its thorny, unconventional style is contrasted by a deeply unnerving sense of direction that can oftentimes be intentionally impenetrable, and the story being told (while relatable to an extent) is extremely bleak, especially when it comes to a conclusion that manages to be both satisfying and concerning in its implications. As a whole, Sanguine is a film that should be approached with caution, but only because of how exceptionally well it immerses the viewer in a state of both existential despair and pure repulsion, pushing the boundaries of taste so far off-course that it almost feels like an achievement in itself to create such an uncomfortable but extremely original atmosphere.