Anyone in the know would tell you: don’t fuck with New French Extremity because it would most likely fuck you back.
Linked to the New Extremity movement of a wave of controversy-courting movies that surfaced during the late 90s/early 00s, New French Extremity flicks were a collection of vicious, take-no-prisoners, horror flicks that took the usual conventions of the genre and stretched them into something far more brutal and uncompromising than had ever been seen before. Vaguely reminiscent of Wes Craven’s work in the 70s, gratuitous gore, torture and rape were a staple of such movies as Frontier(s), Inside and Martyrs, but the first one I saw was Alexandre Aja’s Haute Tension. Essentially a cat-and-mouse slasher film with the brutality turned way up to eleven, Haute Tension was nothing short of a kick to the balls with hobnailed boots after wading through the American, teen, slice and dicers at the tail end of the 90s. Raw, animalistic and completely unpredictable for various reasons, there was simply no preparing yourself for what came next.
Best friends Marie and Alex are on their way to spend a weekend studying at Alex’s folk’s house located deep in the country, but after arriving it becomes clear that Marie has feelings for her bestie that go way beyond study dates and conversations about boys. However, while Marie lies in bed that night, relieving herself of her sexual frustrations, Alex’s homestead is visited by possibly the worst surprise houseguest in history.
Say hello to Le tueur (French for “The Killer”) an oily, sweaty, hulking maniac who keeps a straight razor in his pocket and things nothing of giving himself some executive relief with the severed head of a female victim while he chills in his rickety truck. The effect he has on Alex’s family is nothing short of devastating as he bloodily ploughs through the mother, father and a young child like they weren’t even there and as a harrowing, extra special treat, he chains up Alex and spirits her away in his terrifying rapist-mobile.
However, during the carnage, Marie is strangely missed and as she cowers in various vantage points, she watches in horror as Le Tueur decimates the picturesque family unit like a razor swinging natural disaster. Realising that if she doesn’t do something fast, Alex will be spirited away to face some unimaginable fate, so Marie leaps into the back of the truck and thus begins a tense series of events as she desperately tries to free her friend while avoiding a dude who could probably tear her in half without thinking.
However, as Marie plans to face down Le Tueur face to face with a fence post wrapped in barbed wire, a stunning reality check reveals that things aren’t actually what they seem and the ramifications are far more disturbing than an unkillable, burly, sex maniac.
A stripped back slasher with a take-no-prisoners attitude, Haute Tension (clumsily re-titled Switchblade Romance in the UK), and the New French Extremity felt like bomb going off compared to some of the horror titles being released in America at the time. Hard edged, merciless and utterly remorseless, director Aja creates a cruel world that’s more in tune with Tobe Hooper’s original Texas Chain Saw Massacre or Wes Craven’s The Hills Have Eyes where any taboos foolish enough to wander by are crush like the skull of a particularly adorable baby.
Happy family? Dead. Small child? Extra dead. The movie seems to pride itself on homing in on any available innocence and normality and tearing it to shreds like a frenzied, wild animal until nothing remains and, I’m I’m being honest, I could get enough after I first saw it. Frankly, the fact that it gets so tantalisingly unsafe was incredibly refreshing and despite a rusty truck-load of controversy that followed in its wake, Aja makes sure the movie live up to its title by supplying as much high tension as he can muster.
A lot of the movie essentially sees Cécile de France’s closeted lesbian, Marie, hiding in various places from a relentless killer like a high stakes version of Metal Gear Solid, but inbetween countless scenes of nail biting stealth, both the director and the cast keep the energy high. France is absurdly endearing, channeling her unrequited love for her friend into keen survivalist skills as she goes from victim, to pursuer, to aggressor over the space of 88, ridiculously taunt, minutes and while Maïwenn’s Alex spends the majority of the movie chained and gagged like a mistreated animal, she still manages to evoke the rage and fear you’d expect to find yourself in such a position. However, the real takeaway proves to be Phillipe Nahon’s barrel-chested serial killer who, in all honestly, is literally terrifying thanks to his character essentially a great white shark with a sexually deviant nature and a dirty truckers cap. After one of the most shocking introductions any cinematic killer has ever had (fellating yourself with a severed cranium has got to be up there), Nahon could have been excused if he had just let that scene do the talking and phoned the rest in, but the fact that he chooses to go all in on this heavy breathing, sexually violent, bezerker means that, compared to France’s noticeably slight frame, he’s a major threat.
He’s also a threat that takes great pride in his work, as the early massacre blatantly proves. Enlisting Giannetto De Rossi, Lucio Fulci’s go-to guy for visceral carnage, to realise the jaw-dropping gore, the movie delivers crunching decapitations, yawning throat slashes and the unfortunate effects of a concrete saw on the human anatomy with virtually no restraint whatsoever.
However, as exhilarating as Haute Tension is, I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t touch on the multiple controversies that it left in its wake like a trail of gore with the first being the film has many, cheeky similarities to the Dean Koontz novel, Intensity and the infamous twist doesn’t particularly paint the Queer community in a forward think light. But surely the biggest issue many have with the film is that aforementioned twist that angered many and will force me to enforce a sizable spoiler alert before you go any further.
The big reveal is that there is no hulking killer and that Marie is the one who has slaughtered everyone while enacting an utter fantasy that portrays her as the virtuous final girl. However, the way Aja stages it is incredibly confusing, choosing to suggest that everything you’ve seen is nothing more than a massive fabrication, but those more used to the Fight Club version of the twist were left scratching their heads while trying to figure out how the killer, his truck and the fact that he has conversations with other characters can possibly be happening if he’s actually a skinny young woman – hint: it’s not.
Flawed, certainly – but such a bambooling climax only makes Haute Tension’s lack of respect for the rules even more enticing.
Horror, to the (French) extreme!
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