While Emiliano Rocha Minter’s We Are the Flesh is for all intents and purposes a narrative film, it takes a pretty heavy nosedive into nightmarish surrealism, using a canvas of sexually explicit imagery that blurs the fact/fiction lines with malevolent glee... It doesn’t operate like a traditional movie, choosing to be genuinely horrifying instead.
This year’s standout is Emiliano Rocha Minter’s uncategorisable debut We Are the Flesh... Make no mistake, this is the cinema of transgression – but even as it parades all manner of deviant depravities concerning the body and the body politic, it also transgresses the normal bounds of the horror genre, graphically engendering an allegory of an individual’s, and a nation’s, awkward rites of passage.
It's hard to find a sliver of logic in all this satanic excess. Yet the lovely, stylized scenes of bodies writhing in sexual paroxysms do bring to mind Possession, particularly the famous scene with Isabelle Adjani gyrating inside a dark tunnel. Minter evokes human desire, unfettered by social mores, as the supreme expression of all the world's evil.
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