Climax (2018): Bringing New Life to the Horror Genre
How the film combines dance and horror to create a terrifying new experience.
Now that we’re knee-deep in the month of October, I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to catch up on some horror films that I might’ve missed over the years. And to my surprise, one of the most unnerving and innovative features came in the form of Gaspar Noé’s 2018 film, Climax.
Featuring a cast made up primarily of dancers with no real acting experience — other than Sofia Boutella and Souheila Yacoub — and an eclectic soundtrack that anyone can appreciate, the director’s avant-garde sensibilities can be seen in full effect as he turns the horror genre on its head to create a visceral experience that’s unlike anything cinema has ever seen before.
The film takes place in 1996 and revolves around a newly formed French dance troupe rehearsing in an abandoned school on a snowy night. But once the group starts to feel the effects of the LSD that’s been added to the sangria, the afterparty starts to descend into utter chaos.
Following a series of interviews that dive into the dancers’ origins, the film presents a mesmerizing dance sequence that sees the troupe showcasing all of their unique styles of dancing — which include krumping, popping, locking, vogue, and even ribbon twirling.
Even though the sequence is impressive enough on its own, the fact that it’s shot in one long, continuous take, with so many elements involved, makes it all the more mind-blowing. It’s hard to imagine how the cast and crew were able to pull off the elaborate camerawork with the general coordination of so many dancers while also keeping the timing of the scene in mind at the same time.
There’s a unique sense of vitality and dread that permeates throughout the film, which is largely due to the inclusion of so many long takes that highlight the raw and unhinged performances of the dancers. Especially from Sofia Boutella, who manages to convey a wide range of emotions with a convincing intensity that’s hard to ignore.
Other than the interviews, the extended conversations, and a few other moments near the end, a large bulk of the film is made up of long takes, with the longest one being around 42 minutes long, while the opening dance number takes up the first half of a 12-minute take.
But these takes aren’t just for stylistic purposes; they play into the overall concept of the film — a slow and steady decline into madness. Throughout the film, there’s a natural progression as the drugs take their hold on the dancers, with the camera hovering around to capture the downward spiral from all sorts of angles.
There’s an extended dance sequence that’s shot from above as the dancers take turns on the dance floor, long stretches where the camera tilts back and forth as it follows the characters wandering aimlessly through the building, and a surreal sequence near the end that sees the performers losing all inhibitions and reverting to their primal instincts, with the sweeping camera moving in every direction possible.
Another aspect that adds to the surreal atmosphere of the film is the lighting. Each area in the building has its own unique color palette — as if we were descending into different levels of hell — with the colors ranging from haunting greens, harsh reds, and warm blues as the characters make their way through ominous corridors.
The overall structure of the film is also pretty disorienting. It actually starts with the ending credits — which is startling, to say the least — and the opening credits don’t show up until halfway through the film, as they bombard the viewer with a variety of different font styles that take up the entire screen.
One would imagine that having so many characters drugged out of their minds would present the perfect opportunity to incorporate all sorts of trippy visual effects into the film — sort of like the director’s 2009 feature, Enter the Void, a film that uses abstract imagery to convey the experience of a soul entering a new plane of existence — but that isn't really the case here.
Even though the intense lighting and unorthodox camerawork play into the surreal vibe of the film, while also providing a heavy dose of visual stimuli, there aren’t really any special effects that represent what the dancers are actually perceiving in their altered state of mind.
This doesn't detract from the film in any way, though. The presentation alone is enough to convey the volatile situation that the characters find themselves in. And, if anything, the fact that we can’t see the film through their eyes is even more disturbing since we can only witness the reality of the situation.
A character could be having a mental breakdown in one moment, only for them to leave the room and immediately forget about it as if it never happened. In fact, most of the tension comes from what’s not seen. One scenario in particular deals with a character being placed in a terrifying situation. And all we can do is hope for the best, all the while knowing full well that things are bound to go south at any moment.
There’s always something going on in Climax, whether it be the blinding lights, the wild camera movements, the dancers in the background, or the upbeat music that’s juxtaposed with the grim reality of the scene. It’s as if the party itself was a living organism that’s constantly evolving — or a fever dream that’s made to overload the senses.
Interestingly enough, the way the film’s story was developed was just as fluid and collaborative as the dances themselves. Other than the general character traits for each dancer, the overall premise, and a couple of story beats, most of the film’s narrative was actually improvised, which is crazy to think about since the final product works so well as a whole.
There were no lines of dialogue written down for the performers, so instead, they had to come up with their own lines and take the characters in all sorts of direction as the film was being made. The opening dance sequence alone was performed 16 times. The cast added new elements to each iteration, with the fifteenth take being the one that made it into the final cut.
All things considered, Climax shouldn't work as well as it does. But Gaspar Noé’s unique approach to filmmaking pays off more than it has any right to. Just when I think I’ve seen everything the horror genre has to offer, a film comes along and breaks all storytelling conventions to inject some new life into it — all the while reminding me of the power of film and the limitless potential that the medium still has to offer.
The party truly never ends.
