Elle

Dir Paul Verhoeven, France/Germany/Belgium 2016 On UK release from 10 March

Paul Verhoeven has never been one for tiptoeing around violence in his movies, and Elle is no exception. The film opens with its main character, successful businesswoman Michèle Leblanc (Isabelle Huppert), being raped in her home by a masked intruder. Once the rapist has left, she draws herself a bath and discards her clothes. As she sits silently in the tub, blood emerges through the foam of the bubble bath, and she nonchalantly rearranges the bubbles to hide the evidence of the ordeal she has just endured. Taking no time to recover, Michèle carries on with her life as usual; however, she is determined to fight back against her attacker. She not only fantasises about how the attack could have played out differently, she also buys various items for selfdefence, and even commissions an employee to do some snooping for her. Thus the game of cat and mouse begins, and soon develops from obsession to perversion.

This being the first film Verhoeven has made since the acclaimed Black Book a decade ago, Elle has a lot of expectations riding on it. With his focus seemingly narrowing and intensifying as he gets older, his first French language film is beautifully executed and immensely enjoyable. Having taken French lessons prior to filming to better communicate with the French cast and crew, Verhoeven shows his dedication in every scene, not only in the directorial polish of the whole but also in his grasp of the often overworked tropes of French cinema. And the tropes in Elle are many; Michèle is a brusque businesswoman; she is sleeping with her best friend’s husband; she cannot stand her obnoxious daughter-in-law; and her oversexed mother is driving her mad with her young gigolo of a boyfriend – and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. At several points in the film, these tropes are taken to the extreme, giving the film Verhoeven’s trademark tinge of satire, and the result is delightful in all its absurdity. The acting is also exceptional, with Isabelle Huppert’s portrayal of Michèle being mesmerisingly nuanced.

Whenever a film deals with rape there’s justifiable concern as to whether the subject will be handled with sensationalism or respect. While chilling, the rape sequence here is handled in a manner that translates as unpleasantly realistic without becoming distastefully exploitative. Additionally, the main character pro- cesses the ordeal in a relentlessly determined manner, which mirrors her general approach to life; she not only remains true to herself, but is anything but helpless when dealing with the aftermath of the assault. What’s fascinating is the way this very determination to stay true to herself leads Michèle into a highly taboo perversion. While I will not reveal how that perversion develops and plays out, I will say that it is masterfully handled and should be recognised for the uncompromisingly artful piece of storytelling that it is.

It may sound paradoxical that a thriller about a woman looking to avenge her sexual assault is at the same time a satire on French cinema, but this is typical Verhoeven. His satire might have become less blatant over the years, but it’s still there, and its subtle yet consistent presence in Elle is what elevates the film from a well-crafted thriller to a truly memorable movie. By balancing darkly humorous moments with an intense story of perversion and taboo, Verhoeven delivers a film that is as bold as it is entertaining.