Repulsion (1965)

I play a lot of my movies in the hours and minutes immediately before I go to bed. In fact, I literally drop movies onto the iPod and crawl into bed, watching bits of movies in the darkness as T. sleeps next to me (this is preferable to a book because I don't have to have a light on). For the most part, this routine works great. Because the entire exercise is done with the lights off and via headphones, I generally enjoy these bedtime movies with a heightened level of engagement. I unwind from the day and find release. The movies, in turn, get past the usual daylight filters and download directly to the deep section of my brain that absorbs and digests movies. It's all-round good times. And then alone comes a movie like Roman Polanski's Repulsion.

Repulsion is an ugly and dangerous little movie to download right before knocking off to sleep. The movie hums at one of those Lynch-ian dream frequencies, that can potentially make sleep very, very uncomfortable. I hesitate to say the movie gave me nightmares, but I have to confess that the degree of chill provided by the movie (and occasionally escalated by bursts of quick violence), left me startled and confused enough when it was over that I was uncertain whether to try to sleep or simply head downstairs for a sandwich. Instead I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, unsure what damage had been done to my fragile brain.

[Note: I should clarify that this is all very good. A movie that can change your body temperature and get under your skin like this is something to be recommended and treasured.]

Repulsion is Roman Polanski's first English-language film and sets down the thriller template that he would visit again 4 years later in Rosemary's Baby (of which I was most reminded). The principle difference between the two films is that Rosemary's Baby is essentially a horror film that circles around the occult; the threats are supernatural, extraordinary and ultimately, unknowable. Repulsion, on the other hand, is a film about human madness, as a young woman becomes so sexually repressed that it drives her (violently) insane. The latter seems a little more chilling in context.

The young woman in the film is played Catherine Deneuve, in an intriguing counterpoint to the role she would later play in Belle De Jour (1967). Deneuve plays the part very much on the inside; for the first act of the film, she seems almost autistic, slow to speak and act, staring off into space as people address her. The term bimbo might come to mind. However, gradually it becomes clear that there is a lot going on behind those eyes and that her inability to express emotion isn't a symptom of disengagement. To be blunt, she is simply losing her shit. In the same manner as Pvt. Pyle in Full Metal Jacket, it's the eyes that tell the story. Psychology students everywhere could write papers on the degrees of mental disintegration as she progresses from paranoia to a full meltdown.

Still, while the plot may be compelling, it's Polanski's assured direction which elevates Repulsion from a 60's B-picture to a classic worth revisiting 40 years on. The story unfolds at a glacial pace and with a decidely European eye, with most of the movie holed in a small London flat. Within this apartment, Polanski finds unique ways of ringing the madness from his main character, as plaster cracks and church bells chime off-screen. In fact, it is the soundtrack of the picture that best promotes Deneuve's dread and turns the film into a waking nightmare. Small touches like scales running on a piano or flies buzzing around spoiling food form a menacing audio soundscape that demands the treacherous chill of the film (especially via headphones at night!) In contrast, there are massive sections of the movie with little or no dialogue or sound, creating a vacuum that sucks the viewer in and forces them share in Deneuve's immense discomfort. The sick pay-off comes when the silence is abruptly split by sudden and drastic interruptions like walls cracking or someone knocking at a door (which may sound like cheap thrills but in this context, are quite effective.)

Then there's violence. For a movie that triggers on a couple of explosive murders, the savagery in the film is shockingly brief, and still more outrageous than most modern films. Clearly, it is more devastating to know that a person has been killed with multiple strikes from a straight razor than it is to see that razor make contact with the victim. The mind fills in the darkness with terrible things and it is a wise choice to keep the murders in shadow. I would estimate that on-screen violence commands less than a couple of minutes of screentime, but the damage and terror hangs over everything that follows.

And that's what you take with you to sleep, when the movie is finally over. Thanks for the bad dreams, Polanski.