High Life

No matter what anyone might say, there's not one good reason to see High Life -- and a thousand reasons not to. It's a film that loves its contrasts: pensive, stagnant cinematography drenched in production design (think dead bodies vertically floating through space like silent sheet music); soft-spoken dialogue embedded in stillness set against images of blood and death. Writer-director Claire Denis makes it clear: This is art, and if you don't like it, there's something wrong with you. But you're more likely to end up feeling like there's something wrong after you watch the entirety of this film.

The characters are society's worst, and they act out their worst instincts: fighting each other with punches to the face, shovels to the head, and shards of glass ripping through the skin. Not gross enough? How about watching someone's head slowly explode? Or a woman get repeatedly punched in the face while raped in front of her restrained, screaming friends? Film is a medium that allows viewers to see, feel, and experience situations they might otherwise not, and Denis' intention seems to be to provoke the audience far out of their comfort zone. A teen experiencing her first period in front of her dad, images of dead dogs and children -- it's all intended to be a beautiful horror show. Perhaps it's all set in space to demonstrate that nothing is more alien to us than human behavior, but, to what end?