From the moment I caught French feature Raw from Julia Ducournau at Frightfest, it has been one of my favourite films of all time and I couldn’t wait to see she did next.
Though only her second feature, Ducournau’s ‘Titane’ won the Palme D’Or – the highest prize awarded at Cannes Film Festival. It’s no mean feat for a woman, particularly a woman presenting a piece of genre cinema.
The award came as a bit of surprise as genre film typically doesn’t do too well amongst mainstream audiences and critics. I must admit that even after managing to catch Titane when it screened in Edinburgh as a BFI London Film Festival screening, I am still somewhat perplexed, but happily so.
Titane is shocking, intensely uncomfortable and confidently controversial. Brimming with integrity and emotional strength. Titane is a brave artwork that demonstrates Ducournau’s determined originality.
In my review for Raw I mentioned that I felt the marketing probably did the film a disservice, as it seemed to frame the feature as an intensely gory horror flick that had test audiences fainting, likely putting off many from experiencing what was in fact a subtly beautiful coming of age tale. In a stark contrast, Titane seems to have withheld the detail of the feature and its more ‘extreme’ scene, making these elements even more difficult to sit through given the element of surprise.
From hushed discussions I gathered that Titane was ‘that film where the girl has sex with a car’. With the aforementioned scene occurring a mere 15 minutes into the film, I realised I had absolutely no knowledge beyond this. I’m glad this was the case, as it allowed me to go in blind and truly experience the film. And what an experience it is.
[SPOILERS AHEAD. If you haven’t watched Titane yet, I really recommend you do before reading on!]
I will start by saying Titane was not even remotely what I expected.
The film opens to a young Alexia purposefully annoying her father as he drives the pair along a quiet road. Her behaviour causes her father to crash and as a result of the accident, Alexia is left with a titanium (the ‘Titane’ of the title) plate and a lifelong scar and bald patch along the side of her head. As young Alexia sits in hospital, her head encased in a metal frame, she glowers intensely at her father as though blaming him for the situation that was entirely of her own making.
The doctor warns the family to ‘look out for neurological signs’, implied to be the cause of Alexia’s progressively more disturbing behaviour, but as the very first moments of the film show – the problematic behaviour was always within her.
It is clear the relationship with her family is fraught but as she exits the hospital Alexia easily displays affection towards the family car. Does she feel the car offered protection where her father did not? Does she find it easier to form a connection with something that doesn’t think or feel, but rather is simple and predictable?
We are then introduced to the adult Alexia, who it seems still struggles with emotional connection. Physically she is strikingly androgynous, a sharp contradiction to the hyper-sexualised role she takes on as a model at a car show where she dances seductively, gyrating against the cars. It’s a very different persona to the one that we typically see from Alexia and it appears there are men who struggle to see that that is all it is.
As Alexia leaves to return to her car, she is pursued by an eager ‘fan’, who doesn’t even seem to question that his desire for Alexia would be reciprocated. Enthralled by the alluring mask she bears for work, he seems oblivious to the uncomfortable position he is putting Alexia in – something that is unfortunately not unfamiliar for many women.
As Alexia penetrates the man with the stick pinning up her hair, we realise there may be more to Alexia’s curious behaviour than just having sex with a car.
It’s an interesting concept once you dig a little deeper. Whilst Alexia’s behaviour is seen to audiences as obscene and shocking – put simply she is seeking sexual satisfaction without an emotional connection. Is her behaviour really so shocking, or is it more so because it is a woman behaving in this way? As with her murderous behaviour – it’s something more commonly seen in men. Throughout Titane Ducournau seems to challenge gender roles and what it means to be human.
We follow Alexia as she explores her impulses – both sexual and violent. Her intimacy with co-worker Justine (Garance Marillier) is clumsy and she appears inexperienced – like a teen ‘trying it out’, yet it seems something is still not quite right.
Alexia’s stomach begins to swell and as she starts to secrete a black, oil like substance it is implied she is carrying a half human, half car hybrid. Throughout Titane Alexia seems to struggle more with the change in her body than the pregnancy itself, taking steps to conceal the bump in a way that suggests she is intensely uncomfortable in her own (female) skin. She binds her stomach and breasts and later takes extreme action to alter her appearance. Justine remarks that it’s crazy she didn’t see it sooner, a line that I believe can be looked at in many ways. Whilst on the surface she is clearly talking about the pregnancy, Titane seems to focus on Alexia’s exploration of self, image and sexuality in a way that is more commonly seen in younger individuals.
The attempted self abortion scene is perhaps one of the most difficult moments I have ever had to sit through in a cinema – and I have watched a lot of extreme and controversial films. There are a lot of squirm inducing moments within Titane, though the film does not rely on graphic violence – instead the vast majority of the difficult scenes are implied. This doesn’t make the moments any less brutal or horrific and really highlight Ducournau’s skill in the genre.
Trying to evade the police after her murderous spree, Alexia makes the decision to pose as missing child ‘Adrien’, now older after such a long period gone. We are introduced to grieving father Vincent who refuses a DNA test, instead instantly accepting ‘Adrien’ as his own. Despite Adrien’s alarming visage – a broken nose and substantial surgical scar, Vincent asks no questions – instead noting that Adrien will talk when he is ready.
Adrien begins to work with Vincent in the fire department and as he talks her through CPR it is with the love of a father. It’s a beautiful bonding moment that seems like a parent teaching a much younger child to ride a bike. The scene is depicted as Vincent getting to know Adrien again in a way that draws parallels to the journey of the relationship between a parent and a gender non confirming child.
Vincent is shown to have body issues of his own, regularly injecting steroids to try to fight his ageing physique. Though he is muscular, his strength is failing – his insides not matching the outside. It is perhaps this common struggle that uniquely links ‘Adrien’ and Vincent and despite initially trying to leave – Alexia/Adrien returns. In what appears to be a symbolic commitment to Adrien and Vincent – Alexia shaves the rest of her head and comforts Vincent.
Vincent is plagued with his own demons and we find he is troubled by visions of a burning child. It’s never confirmed, but raises the possibility that Vincent is aware of the real Adrien’s demise – making his acceptance of Alexia initially all the more strange.
As the film progresses, a beautiful relationship develops between the two vulnerable individuals and it becomes clear that both are willing to accept each other – two lost souls who have found comfort in each other at last.
When Vincent is faced with Adrien’s true self, he immediately accepts him as he is, noting he is his son. It’s a heartfelt moment that must be in the vein of validation sought from parents of so many trans youth.
Like Raw before it, Titane is scored by Jim Williams. The music is beautiful, though a lot more subtle than the previous feature. In many ways I feel I would have appreciated the familiarity of the repeated refrain throughout the score however I understand the minimalist nature works well. The songs chosen do feel intentional, with Adrien and Vincent having a touching moment dancing together to ‘She’s not There’ by the Zombies – an allegory for Alexia’s transition to Adrien.
Titane is unexpectedly beautiful and poignant. As Alexia comes to accept herself as Adrien, she dances seductively once more. The crowd of fireman aren’t sure how to react – confused by their own reactions to the strangely enticing young man. But Adrien looks free. Finally accepting themselves in their own skin. Expressing their sexuality as they want to, not as others say they should. And with this acceptance comes the (quite literal) birth of something new.
Titane is spectacular and surprising. A shockingly strong display of body horror with an emotionally charged core that will leave you thinking about it for weeks afterwards. Given my love for Raw I had hoped Titane would be great and I was not disappointed.
Julia Ducournau is my queen.
