The perversity of Wetlands is now available on Netflix.
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| "Wanna play Dig-Dug?" |
If the Marquis De Sade were a teenage German woman
living in a perpetual state of self-discovery (or indulgence, depending on your
point of view), he might well have penned something like Wetlands. A transgressive
gross-out meditation on bodily fluids, anal fissures and sexual
experimentation, British author Charlotte Roche’s best-selling erotic
autobiography serves as the basis for inarguably 2013’s most unrelenting
cinematic endurance test yet presented to our gag reflexes. Loosely referring
to vaginal wetness, Wetlands uses the
framework of a coming-of-age teen sex comedy as the basis for a series of
increasingly repulsive situations all experienced, indulged in, and wrought
upon helpless innocent bystanders by the tale’s mischievous 18 year old
protagonist, Helen.
A child of divorce and troubled upbringing, Helen
(attacked with gusto by newcomer Carla Juri) is an outsider, alone and
unhappy. Stricken with hemorrhoids
compounded with an insatiable urge to finger pick away at them, Helen finds
validation in her intense, almost neurotic desire to offend those around her by
engaging in sexual situations either with others or inanimate objects most
would shy away from even thinking about. The film is told largely through
unreliable voiceover passages from the book. Laying in her hospital bed, the film takes
the viewer on a journey deep into the fevered mind of Helen as she reflects on
her past and present life and whether or not happiness and fulfillment are
possible for her.
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| "Nooooo. Not Transformers 5!!!!" |
While Helen is essentially an extension of the equally
(if not more) provocative Charlotte Roche’s public sexual antics, including but
not limited to propositioning Germany’s president in an effort to change of
law, Wetlands would not have legs
were it not for the fierce and fearless performance by Carla Juri. Donning an androgynous short haircut,
skateboarding about barefoot in between fingering herself where she can, Juri
adorns Helen with an energetic, spunky attitude unafraid of sexual experience
of any kind. Second to Juri, of course,
is the wisely unrated film’s circus sideshow of disgusting behavior committed
by Helen.
Take away the crass vulgarity and Wetlands would be just another coming-of-age picture. With the extreme and at times, unspeakable obscenities infused in the text and film, Wetlands finds its razor sharp edge balancing a tightrope act between adolescent experience and parading scenarios that would make subscribers of EFukt wretch. To try and describe some of the more grotesque situations in detail run the risk of committing a journalistic misdemeanor. In short, there are things in Wetlands that are better left undiscussed here.
Take away the crass vulgarity and Wetlands would be just another coming-of-age picture. With the extreme and at times, unspeakable obscenities infused in the text and film, Wetlands finds its razor sharp edge balancing a tightrope act between adolescent experience and parading scenarios that would make subscribers of EFukt wretch. To try and describe some of the more grotesque situations in detail run the risk of committing a journalistic misdemeanor. In short, there are things in Wetlands that are better left undiscussed here.
On a technical level, Wetlands is a heavily stylized piece of MTV filmmaking with some
innovative use of CGI to depict an ocean of microscopic bacteria crawling upon
a toilet seat or the camera following the protagonist’s finger travelling
inside…you get the idea. Cinematography
and editing are top notch, augmented by a colorful electronic score that fuels
the vibrant and carefree attitude of its central provocateur. Despite how well done the project is as a
whole, at the end of the day detractors’ assertions the source material isn’t
much more than glorified pornography aren’t entirely unfounded. Overall Wetlands
is a well-made movie concerning a heroine I couldn’t wait to get away
from. Where most trolls thrive on
teasing spectators to lose their lunch by picking their noses, Helen picks her
butt and gleefully devours the dingleberries from her fingertips with relish
and a fanged grin. Coming of age or
coming blood on your eyes? You decide.
-Andrew Kotwicki