Love Lies Bleeding

I’m such a sucker for neo-noir, especially when it bleeds into neon-noir. I’ve always gravitated towards dark story-telling, fascinated by tales of people so completely the opposite of me, inhabiting and even thriving (in their own way) in circumstances I can barely begin to fathom. The tangle of relationships familial and Platonic and romantic, the double crossing, the slow (or sometimes not so slow) build of tension into eruptions of activity and/or violence, the ambiguity. The way they so often get you to root for severely damaged people to stop trying to make themselves acceptable to society. Scored by pulsing, driving electronic music, heavy on the synths and drum machines and theremin all working in concert. The world is populated by dilapidated buildings, often surrounded by wide open spaces which go on for miles and contain many secrets, visualizing the ability for moral rot to hide in plain sight.

From the opening shot of Love Lies Bleeding, I was in. We look up from inside a canyon, the walls painted a fiery red by a lens filter, giving the whole image an otherworldly feel that simultaneously feels like a memory and the hazy impression of a place that may or may not exist. The music is driving home that sense of wrongness, full of a thrumming bass rumble and occasional spurts of digital noise. And it’s at this moment I see “Music by Clint Mansell”, best known for creating the incredibly iconic “Lux Æterna”, from 2000’s Requiem for a Dream (amongst many, many other killer scores). He’s one of my favorite composers, so my hype instantly increased to unreasonable levels. The only question remaining was how in the world could this movie possibly live up to the expectations I was setting for it.

How about Kristen Stewart in full dirtbag mode playing Lou, the lesbian owner of a gym in the middle of nowhere New Mexico in 1989? How about Ed Harris as her estranged father, with absolutely bananas hair extensions playing a son of a bitch who owns a gun range? Or Dave Franco as JJ, a wife beater who pisses off the wrong person? Or relative newcomer Katy O’Brian as a body builder named Jackie, blowing through town hitchhiking to her first competition in Vegas? Mix in a strong sense of propulsion, some erotic thriller energy as Lou and Jackie’s insatiable appetites turn into love, and the criminal element inherent to all noir. As well as themes of the line between passion and obsession, the dangers of imposing your solutions onto the problems of loved ones in a bid to be proactively “protective”, and doing whatever it takes to achieve security in your life.

Without seeing a frame of the movie, I bet you can intuit that much of it takes place under the cover of night, that Lou gets mixed up in a bit of a love triangle, that Jackie gets mixed up in steroids, and that all are tormented by a past that may be about to catch up to them. Here, the coloring and visual style of the opening reveals its purpose: a clear differentiator so director Rose Glass can show us snippets of memory of varying length without us ever once being confused. It lets us know exactly where Lou’s mind is running off to at any given moment without saying a word. The tactic is nothing new, but it sets the visual template and guides the tone while doing its job super well.

Which is an apt way to think about this movie. Sure, a number of the details are uncommon, but the broad strokes are quite familiar. On the one hand, you’ve got the focus on female body builders, the truly visceral nature of the violence (I hadn’t yelled “Oh!” in a theater in quite some time: you’ll know it when you see it), and the surreal visualization of Jackie’s body image. On the other, a stranger rolls into town, gets wrapped up in local events both romantic and political, uncovers the town’s secrets, and sets in motion events they don’t truly understand. Some might be inclined to boil it down to those component parts and compare it unfavorably to some other movie they feel “did it better”.

But I’d argue the stylistic elements and outstanding acting from all parties big and small (I’ve yet to mention Jena Malone as Lou’s sister or Anna Baryshnikov as her on-again off-again fling) combine beautifully with the story elements to highlight an underexplored element of the proceedings: how in such a volatile situation, acting on behalf of others can lead to absolutely dire consequences for all involved, even when you’ve their best interest at heart. No, not the most unique message, but deployed in the type of world where movies usually have us rooting for some hero to save the day. Instead, the savior is the one driven to better their situation, and takes some action to make it happen, despite mixed results.

My only real critique is that the resolution of the climax feels like a cop out. It comes out of nowhere, and doesn’t feel like a natural extension of the rest of the film. It saps the film of its momentum, and lands as if the writer couldn’t figure out a believable way to wrap it up, and so just threw this at us. Granted, given its ties to earlier elements of the film, there’s a chance it’s meant to symbolize something I’m missing. But for my money, it’s something already supported by the rest of the text and subtext, meaning its literalization is unnecessary and distracting. While it doesn’t ruin the whole movie by any means, it does blunt the ending enough to knock it down a few pegs. But only a few.

The other thing worth mentioning? The jokes! This movie is funny. Well, at least if you share its dark, wry, kinda messy sense of humor, and I absolutely do. I’m pretty sure I was the only person laughing at all in my screening. Which is insane. There’s so much absurdity, so many ridiculous lines said by self-serious characters with a straight face, and a ton of wonderful moments of genuine affection and chemistry between Stewart and O’Brian. Hell, even something as simple as Jackie punching a hulking bro in the face for refusing to bugger off and putting a hand on her shoulder. The energy throughout is crackling, which elevates such moments which could be purely dour in another production.

After having been robbed of a theatrical release for her debut film by the pandemic, director Rose Glass is finally getting her chance to wow audiences. Sure, Saint Maud has plenty of fans, some of whom helped Glass land a few big stars this time around. But no matter how well regarded (and make no mistake, Saint Maud is widely acclaimed), going straight to digital is always going to limit the exposure for a new director. So for this to be the way many first encounter her work will leave a very strong impression. It won’t be for everyone, sure: art which makes strong visual and thematic choices rarely is. What I can guarantee is that she’s gained a ton of fans who will eagerly await her next film, myself included.