He’s a swarthy American in his mid-20s who bops around Paris, introducing himself as an aspiring film-maker. Take Murphy (Karl Glusman), the hero of Love. Yet as Noé’s career has progressed, he has become an ever more grandiose and self-important film-maker, one who now views even his lead characters as pawns in a larger vision. Noé is certainly an accomplished craftsman, and as he proved in the terrifyingly violent Irreversible, his fixation on the sordid underbelly of life is no sham he goes to seamy, transgressive places that other directors don’t. The hardcore scenes in Love may be shocking to some, but they have almost no spontaneity or heat. Noé is so possessed by the idea that he’s breaking boundaries that he doesn’t let the story – or the sexuality – flow. In Love, we gawk at these characters as if they were entwined nude figures in an aquarium.
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