‘Titane’ Review
R: Strong violence and disturbing material, graphic nudity, sexual content, and language
Runtime: 1 Hr and 48 Minutes
Production Companies: Kazak Productions, Frakas Productions, Arte France Cinéma, VOO, BeTV
Distributor: Neon
Director: Julia Ducournau
Writer: Julia Ducournau
Cast: Agathe Rousselle, Vincent Lindon, Garance Marillier, Laïs Salameh
Release Date: October 1, 2021
In Theaters Only
A metal highly resistant to heat and corrosion, with high tensile strength alloys, often used in medical prostheses due to its pronounced biocompatibility.
That’s literally what it says on the NEON page. If they're gonna be discreet, then who am I to not follow suit?
French female directors have been going off with their protagonists and the sexual desires they have. Earlier this year, Zoé Wittock’s debut Jumbo featured Noémie Merlant falling in love with an amusement park attraction. Now, you got Raw director Julia Ducournau with her sophomore film Titane, which brings a whole new meaning to car sex. Seriously, don’t show this movie to Herbie or a Transformer. This would be the equivalent of porn to them.
The film centers around Alexia (Agathe Rousselle), a showgirl with a titanic plate embedded in her head. Since childhood, she always had an attraction for automobiles… and also major violent tendencies, which led her to the plate she wears (and covers up) today. As an adult, those traits furthered to crazy extremes where she fucks cars and kills people and doesn’t discriminate when choosing victims. After one of her murder sprees goes awry, Alexia finally becomes wanted and begins running from the law. To disguise herself, she poses as a missing boy to a lonely firefighter captain (Vincent Lindon) who is in desperate need of some human connection.
Ever since Raw, writer/director Julia Ducournau has displayed a deep love for body horror and an obsession with flesh through her lead protagonists, whether they be literal cannibals or, in this case, a psychotic killer. Through her deranged lens, Ducournau makes you squirm with graphic and gruesome imagery so disturbing that a dude straight-up fainted at my TIFF screening. In the first half of the film, Titane is a batshit insane thrill ride that’s brutal and gloriously captivating. Whether you’re watching Alexia erotically bang a car or kill her victims with something as simple as a hair tie, Ducournau’s balls-to-the-wall mode of violence is as exciting as it is terrifying. Transporting you into her manic world through stylish tracking shots in unforgettable set pieces, she keeps you intrigued and on your toes. Even when the violence lets up and the film enters another weird-ass area (no spoilers), Ducournau furthers her Cronenberg-like level of body horror that’s completely personalized to the female experience. There’s such intricate detailing in the makeup design to make you wince at the physical pain her characters are going through. This shit will make you feel so uncomfortable for a variety of reasons, yet it keeps you so gripped to your seat.
When the film transitions to its second act where Alexia must undergo a dramatic change to keep her head, it becomes — and I’m sorry for this skewered hodgepodge of a reference — a very adult version of Lilo & Stitch. You know how the first ten minutes of Lilo & Stitch is all about Stitch being a criminal fugitive before we even focus on Lilo being an isolated loner with a broken family? Well, let's position Alexia as Stitch and Vincent as Lilo. Titane spends the entire first half of the film showcasing her criminal savagery. Once she poses as a missing male named Adrien to lonely dad Vincent, whose life is in a state of ruin, the film’s parallels get heavy. As the narrative progresses, Vincent tries to express his loving side and provide parental guidance to the little devil in disguise. Both characters, broken in their own right, are from two separate walks of life and lost their humanity in the midst of it all. Through a tender and sincere theme of duality, Ducournau displays how they cope with their prolonged states of emptiness, but through each other, they learn to love and become whole again. As I said: Lilo & Stitch for adults.
People might not like how the narrative feels like two seperate films, for the body horror takes a backseat and the tone completely lightens up at some point. That being said, Ducournau’s screenplay takes the bold risk of deepening Alexia’s character arc by putting her in a position that warrants her growth, pairing her with someone she can emotionally identify with. It’s an unexpected turn that I didn’t think a movie as wild as this would make, but it has such a balanced yin and yang feel to it where the first half can’t coexist without the second half. No other movie I can think of accomplished having such a drastic gear shift with some genre-bending since… well… Parasite! Even when the ride slows down, it maintains a naturally fluid story with its own flow and awareness. You’re already following a psychopathic lead and while you know she’s exploiting a man’s vulnerable state for her benefit, the movie is also aware of it. This ain’t Dear Evan Hansen; it actively acknowledges the lead’s actions and she gets knocked down a few pegs in order to convey it. The film is even aware of its absurdity and has moments of dark comedy that are played for laughs, but it never sacrifices its integrity for a joke.
Newcomer Agathe Rousselle is a friggin' fierce force of nature who carries the film in such a layered manner. For this being her debut feature, Rousselle kicks down the door and blows you away. She completely commits to the insane and chaotic character and sells it with undeniable conviction. From her body movements in the show-stopping showgirl sequence to her terrifying slasher mode to her unrecognizable androgynous physique in an unforgettable transformation sequence, Rousselle manages to phase into all three notions seamlessly. She might have a hard time topping this performance because she goes above and beyond unlike any performer I’ve seen this year, regardless of gender.
Vincent Lindon alleviates the film’s harsh tone with his tender and vulnerable performance as firefighter captain Vincent. The second half dives into his world and he adds so much light and sincerity to the film, including natural comedic relief that perfectly matches the type of role he’s playing. He’s far from a masculine figure and wears his emotions on his sleeve, so when he provides that fatherly love to Alexia/Adrien, you can’t help but smile. He stands as one the best supporting actor performances this year, for he exuded such a sweet-natured energy that gives the movie the intended soul it aims to capture by the second half.
Ducournau is like a new-age Cronenberg but specializes in adding subtext and depth to her features so they aren’t just mindless thrill rides. She has such a deranged and visionary mind unlike any other where she can combine various means of genre-bending while telling an original tale that stands out no matter what familiar themes it possesses. Titane is a remarkable, neo-body-horror movie that balances being a batshit gorefest and a nuanced outlook on humanity. As absurd as its premise is, the film has heart, charm, and poignancy that makes its familiar themes succeed with bold originality.
