Rose Glass | 1hr 44min
From the bottom of a chasm residing on the outskirts of Rose Glass’ rustic Southern town, a rotten stench is bleeding out. Dark secrets have been decaying down there for years, eating away at those who either willingly or reluctantly shroud them in silence, as well as those who tragically fall into their orbit. For vagrant body builder Jackie, fate seems especially intent on pulling her into these shady circles, both through her burgeoning relationship with local gym manager Lou as well as the casual job she incidentally picks up at the shooting range owned by her father, Lou Sr. As she pursues physical perfection in anticipation of an upcoming bodybuilding contest, Lou is right by her side supplying performance-enhancing steroids, unknowingly feeding an addiction that soon uncontrollably careens into a seedy underworld of treachery and murder.
Much like Glass’ debut, Love Lies Bleeding does not shy away from the eerie dread and murky morality of its female characters, though this erotic thriller sprawls much further out than Saint Maud’s introspective character study. Gone are the formal notes of Roman Polanski and Paul Schrader, here replaced with the rural noir influence of the Coen Brothers as bodies stack up in the sordid backwaters of America, and amateurs clumsily try to cover up their tracks. Gyms and streets alike are dimly lit with a grimy green ambience, suffusing this 80s landscape of spandex, baggy shirts, and shaggy hairstyles with an air of suburban decrepitude. There are few options in life for queer locals like Lou who dwell far outside the mainstream, but with a violent, paternalistic chauvinism rearing its ugly head, even those who seek the stability of traditional marriage are destined to be severely disappointed.
Sporting a greasy mullet and gaunt cheekbones, Kristen Stewart’s brooding screen persona is an ideal match for Glass’ shabby town, taking on its muted bleakness even as she fights its corruptive influence. Amusingly enough, this internal battle is frequently distilled down to her ironic habit of smoking while she actively listens to anti-smoking audiobooks, revealing a weakness for addiction that she will inevitably pass on to her new girlfriend. Very gradually, we witness Lou’s steroids taking fearsome effect on Jackie, eroding her impulse control and mounting a rage in her that can only be contained for so long.
On a physical level, Jackie’s metamorphosis is rendered as visceral body horror akin to Requiem for a Dream, acutely observing needles pierce bare skin and muscles ripple, bulge, and stretch in grotesque formal cutaways. Given Glass’ team-up with Darren Aronofsky’s regular composer Clint Mansell, it is a fitting creative choice too, as the synth-heavy score pounds and reverberates throughout the film with ominous trepidation of what may come from Jackie’s monstrous transformation. From there, Glass oversees a descent into drug-fuelled hallucinations that only aggravate her insecurities, yet also push her to inhuman limits.
As for Lou, there is no denying the creature she has accidentally created, especially since it has partially arisen from the demons she has been fighting for years. Red-drenched dreams of her past haunt her in menacing cutaways, surfacing memories of Lou Sr’s illegal schemes that she was once shamefully complicit in. Even outside these visions, Glass continues to rupture the green and yellow ambience of this town with hints of crimson lighting, in one scene harshly bouncing it off Lou Sr’s face from a nearby vending machine and snapping Lou’s nightmare into vivid reality. Although both father and daughter are mirrors of each other in this battle of wits and violence, it is clear to see who is purely driven by self-preservation, and who is fighting for love. While Lou Sr’s crimes have been ambiguously responsible for the unexplained disappearance of his wife, Lou is determined to keep Jackie from slipping away, and instead actively endeavours to pull her back from the brink of destruction.
True to her Coen Brothers influence, the dark humour which underlies Glass’ chaotic sequence of events colours in the setting with a wry cynicism, seeing fellow lesbian and comic relief Daisy threaten to derail Lou’s plans. Beneath her naïve optimism is a childish penchant for manipulation, seeking little more than her own self-satisfaction while remaining wilfully ignorant to the danger quietly gathering around her.
When Love Lies Bleeding approaches its climactic ending, Glass finally ratchets the absurdity up one last time to the point of inhuman surrealism, formally uniting Jackie’s physical and emotional transformation through a colossal symbol of feminine power. Much like the last scene of Saint Maud, this daring resolution fully departs from the material world and lifts us into the distorted psyche of Glass’ characters, albeit through freakish imagery that is far more likely to provoke laughs of disbelief than chills. The brief epilogue which follows doesn’t quite maintain the same brilliance, yet still can’t take entirely away from the grand culmination of Love Lies Bleeding’s collision of narrative arcs. Only through selfless acts of faith and sacrifice can Lou and Jackie uncover hidden reserves of strength that have laid dormant through years of loneliness, nourishing an unconventional love that seeks to rise above the miserable, moral degradation of a society that never truly cared for them.
Love Lies Bleeding is currently available to rent or buy on Apple TV, YouTube, Amazon, and Google Play.
Scene by Green 