Q
With
a plot wispier than its heroine’s frequently removed knickers, Q follows fun-loving French
saucepot Cécile (Déborah
Révy) as she teases and seduces practically everyone, male and female, in her
small seaside town on the English Channel (or as the French prefer la Manche) while her adoring boyfriend,
small-time crook Chance (Johnny Amaro), remains oblivious. Or is he? Among her conquests, she separately seduces married
businessman Yves (Patrick Hautier) and his vulnerable wife Virginie (Christelle
Benoit), whose marriage is on rocky ground after an unexplained trauma, and
cocksure young mechanic Matt (Gowan Didi). But is Cécile really more interested in Matt’s beautiful
girlfriend, the virginal, repressed Alice (Hélène Zimmer)? And just what does she have planned for
her troop of dissatisfied, sexually frustrated friends?
Opening
as he means to go on, at crotch level, director Laurent Bouhnik invites us to
spy on a group of young women as they take a lengthy communal shower, the
camera framing them mid-thigh to shoulder, offering us a long, lingering gaze
upon their wet flesh; jiggling breasts, tight buttocks, neatly trimmed pussies,
but crucially not their faces, as they frankly discuss their sex lives, their
partners, their fantasies.
Anyone
happening across Q expecting nice, safe Amelie-style whimsy is in for an eye-opening
103 minutes. Sure, it’s full of
cute, kooky French girls with eyes as big as saucers. But most of them are being frigged off in a toilet.
Essentially inverting Pasolini’s Theorem where Terrence Stamp’s beautiful
stranger shags every member of nice bourgeois family and causes chaos, Bouhnik’s
Cécile is as much
an agent of liberation and force for rebirth as she is of chaos.
Cécile
may use sex to lead the other characters (especially the males) a merry dance
but ultimately the change she catalyses is positive; couples are brought
together, the lonely find comfort, women take control of their own
sexuality. Cécile herself, unable
to cope with the grief of losing her father, only finds solace, and some
measure of eventual redemption, in her string of random sexual encounters.
The
latest in a long, not particularly distinguished, line of arthouse flicks that
blur the lines between explicit, simulated sex and so-called “real” sex,
there’s almost an inevitability to Bouhnik dedicating Q to Cyril Collard and “all
those who still believe that love means something.” Bisexual author and filmmaker Collard, who died of an
AIDS-related illness just three days before his autobiographical film Savage
Nights
(which he directed and starred in) won four Césars in 1993, was a
sexual and artistic provocateur, unapologetic in his raw portrayal of sex and
sexuality and with his graphically explicit depiction of real sex Bouhnik is
striving to achieve an emotional and intimate honesty that the best of
Collard’s work typified. Bouhnik
coaxes intense, powerful performances from his cast of mostly unknown, amateur
actors while bucking the trend of arthouse erotica like Intimacy, Romance and 9
Songs where the sex is portrayed in a
rather po-faced, serious and, ultimately, boring fashion with an
unapologetically joyful celebration of sex and sexuality reminiscent of John
Cameron Mitchell’s Shortbus.
While
it’s neither as erotic nor as subversive as it thinks it is and there will
always be a certain lasciviousness when a middle-aged man seeks to depict a
young woman’s sexuality, Q is an unashamedly frank voyage of self-discovery.
David Watson
Writer/Director
Laurent Bouhnik
Cast
Déborah Révy, Hélène Zimmer, Gowan Didi, Johnny Amaro,
Leticia Belliccini, Christelle Benoit, Patrick Hautier
Country
France
Running time
103 minutes
Year
2011
Certificate
18
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