Cult Cinema: Lust (2017) - Reviewed

Courtesy of MVD

Eight years after sending shockwaves through the Norwegian film industry with his 2009 horror film Detour, writer-director Severin Eskeland returned with a ferocious bang with his transgressive 2017 psychological horror flick Lyst (translated to Lust).  Quickly taking the top spot as one of the most viscerally gory and disgusting Norwegian films ever made, the film is a surrealistic and increasingly graphically violent spin on Stephen King’s Misery involving a pulp novelist suffering from PTSD after suffering an attack from a deranged fan.  Unlike the famous Rob Reiner adaptation which garnered an Oscar win for Kathy Bates’ unstable femme fatale of a fan, the tables are turned as the film and its fragile protagonist begin to unravel. 
 
Hot Swedish pulp crime author Lisa Rostorp (Magdalena From Delis) specializes in rape-revenge fiction stemming from extensive research on real cases of sexual violence.  Years later after being brutally assaulted by a deranged fan herself, she boxes herself into her apartment guzzling bottles of wine as she begins chipping away at her next writing project.  But as she starts growing paranoid someone is sneaking into her apartment at night and further molesting her as she sleeps, her psychiatrist (Sondre Krogtoft Larsen), the police and an ex-lover come back into her life further complicating matters while also forcing Lisa to question her own sense of reality and fantasy.

 
Sort of a chamber piece with hints of giallo and the psychological thriller interspersed with moments of extreme violence before making a freakish descent into madness, Lust is Misery as a quasi-rape revenge shocker by way of Inland Empire.  The point as the film goes on isn’t about achieving absolution or redemption but to further confuse the viewer about where our trashy pulp novelist victimized by her own fanbase is psychologically.  Characters are brutally killed in perversely disgusting ways with some pretty gnarly practical effects makeup by Per-Ingvar Tomren before reappearing alive again and the film also makes extensive, sneaky use of home video surveillance cameras which may or may not be capturing a crime happening.

 
Visually the do-it-yourself microbudget production which takes place almost entirely within the claustrophobic confines of the apartment, co-photographed in mostly blue-green panoramic widescreen by director Eskeland himself and Kai Roger Melkevik, is a nice-looking effort which makes ample use of the budgetary and technical limitations.  The score itself by Magne Steinsvoll is solid nerve-wracking stuff, ranging wildly from quiet calm to loud sonic abrasions, particularly when the film’s ultraviolence kicks in.  Performances are generally good with some of the crew members making up the cast though it’s Magdalena From Delis who does all the film’s heavy lifting, playing a sexual assault victim who might also be deteriorating mentally.  It’s a difficult role for a film that ultimately winds up being an exploitation horror flick but she sinks her teeth into it for what its worth.

 
Not everyone will like this movie for the pseudo-Lynchian qualities, the abrupt swan dives into grotesquerie and the icky factor concerning a trash novelist who falls victim to her own sordid narratives won’t digest well for many.  However Norwegian horror is still in its infancy and for good or ill the picture is a forward step for the industry, even if it doesn’t prove to be to all tastes.  From the perspective of an avid consumer of surreal cinematic provocation, Lust mostly delivers even if in the end it doesn’t have a whole lot to declare about the queasy relationship between creative genius, responsibility of the artist and the consumer.  Lust will frustrate and probably anger most people, but you can’t fault the film for trying even when it hurts during the few times it flat out kicks you in the groin.

--Andrew Kotwicki