APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: L’INTRUS [THE INTRUDER] (2004)

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DIRECTED BY: Claire Denis

FEATURING: Michel Subor, , Katerina Golubeva, Bambou, Béatrice Dalle

PLOT: Having received a new heart via transplant, a man reassesses his priorities and goes in search of rapprochement with his estranged son.

Still from L'Intrus (2004)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Claire Denis crafts a film that may be entirely metaphorical. Under the pretense of narrative, she links together a series of scenes that are best explained as analogues for the brain’s capacity to remember past events and to imagine future ones, often imperfectly. You can’t believe anything you see in L’intrus, and everything in L’intrus is true.

COMMENTS: Sometimes a film will have its script credited as “inspired by” some other work, often as a ploy to forestall the payment of rights and residuals. However, the term could not be better suited to describe the way this film is informed by the memoir/philosophical treatise of the same name that Jean-Luc Nancy penned about his own heart transplant and the subsequent dissociation he felt from his own body. Claire Denis crafts characters and situations that have no connection to the philosopher: Nancy never kept a string of lovers in the frozen tundra, or abandoned a son he had fathered in French Polynesia, or killed a man in cold blood. Yet our hero Louis seems to be living out the emotional experiences that Nancy encountered. Truly, she was inspired.

We know that Louis is facing a health crisis, one that necessitates the acquisition of a new heart. His circumstances are such that not only can he get it without difficulty, but he’s in a position to make demands. “I want a young heart,” he tells his organ broker. “Not an old man’s heart, or a woman’s heart.” It’s the arrogant proclamation of the rich, knowing he can get anything he wants and uninterested in who might suffer as a consequence. Up to this point, Louis lives a charmed life, residing in the mountains with a mistress, a pair of loyal dogs, and not a care in the world. His new heart will not only upend his existence, but shatter his confidence. Much of L’intrus is committed to watching his sense of control and certainty steadily unravel. Maybe you can have it all, but you rarely can keep it.

Denis teases us with genre expectations. When Louis visits a Swiss bank to obtain the money for his operation, we’re inclined to think that he’s some sort of retired secret agent or assassin putting his illicit earnings to work, but the film provides no evidence for that scenario, and the brush with “spy thriller” soon gives way to another mood. Louis’ quest to reconnect with his lost son feels like it will head to a meeting of tremendous importance, but Denis has no interest in such melodramatics. There’s reason to believe that Louis is confronted with a horrible twist at film’s end, but given all we’ve seen, this could easily just be a visual metaphor for the guilt he feels, or a flash-forward to an event that ties together two characters who have stayed far apart, or simply a dreaded outcome given form. We’ll never know for sure, and the feeling is the point, anyway.

What’s most unsettling, the thing that makes the ground so unsteady for the viewer, is that Denis uses the language of film in service of a presentation that intends to do none of the things that we expect a film narrative to do. We’re used to unreliable narrators and visualizations of things that never happened, but Denis provides no guide to help us sort one from another. We are familiar with nonlinear narratives, but we usually count on signifiers to help us work out the chronology in our own heads. We even understand the tricky nature of the Kuleshov effect—using edits to put two scenes together in a kind of shared meaning. Denis uses that technique as a cudgel to shame us out of our assumptions, following a lengthy scene of a grave being dug with a shot of the expected corpse recuperating in a hospital. We don’t have names (the dogsledder played by Dalle is identified in the credits as “The Queen of the Northern Hemisphere”), we don’t have places so much as climates, and we have so little dialogue that every word becomes laden with meaning. Denis is not here to play ball with us, and she makes sure we know it.

Even if you are familiar with Denis’ penchant for obscuring meaning, L’intrus is an impressively opaque work. It also happens to be a strikingly beautiful movie. Cinematographer Agnès Godard captures the exotic beauty of Tahiti, but she also finds character in a South Korean ship foundry or a remote border crossing. Faces look remarkable, too, especially that of Subor, whose handsome aged looks remain striking even when prone in bed running his fingers along the fresh transplant scar on his chest. The majestic professionalism of the production only enhances the sense of disassociation: how can you look at something so immaculately conceived and not be able to figure out what’s going on? You can, though, and Denis seems to think that you should. Maybe to recognize that fact, what you need is a whole new heart.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a weird groundbreaking otherworldly film that breaks down borders in a post-colonial realpolitik (merging the northern and southern hemispheres) and cinematic way (similar to Jean-Luc Godard’s blend of non-linear narrative into a dreamlike tale to try and reinvent cinema).” – Dennis Schwartz, Dennis Schwartz Movie Reviews

(This movie was nominated for review by russa03. Then eight years later, Cliff Williams nominated it anew. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)    

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IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: WAKE IN FRIGHT (1971)

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Recommended

DIRECTED BY: Ted Kotcheff

FEATURING: Gary Bond, ,

PLOT: A  teacher in the Australian outback plans to visit Sydney for his New Year’s holiday, but bad decisions and wild instincts take the lead instead.

Still from Wake in Fright (1971)

COMMENTS: The “Australian New Wave” occurred from the early 1970s and the late 1980s. Heavily inspired by the structure, transgressive nature, and aesthetics of New Hollywood and American cinema in general, these films found a solid fan base in the United States. Though made by a Canadian director, Wake in Fright, based on the titular novel by Kenneth Cook, is an excellent case study of how the Australian New Wave draws formal inspiration from genres and styles associated with American cinematic and literary traditions, starting with the opening 360° shot revealing a vast deserted landscape straight out of a Hollywood Western.

Our protagonist, a teacher in the middle of nowhere, feels trapped, but finds a glimmer of hope in the idea of visiting Sydney for a few weeks during the New Year holidays. However, nothing goes according to plan, and he finds himself trapped once again in a neighboring small town. This isn’t your typical Kafkaesque nightmare of absurd, never-ending entrapment and paranoia, however. The style is realist, reminiscent of a Southern Gothic adapted to the outback, with a similar aim of using its oppressive atmosphere to depict real social horrors. The Australian countryside here is a hellscape peopled by barbaric eccentrics. But they are not the real villains. They play the role of corruptors, but it’s our protagonist’s own deeply hidden passions and desires that push him over the edge. His own mistakes make him unable to leave this town, at least for the time being. But in the meantime, he discovers friendship and an escape from societal norms among a group of local outlaws.

The strangest of them all is Doc Tydon, an alcoholic doctor and self-taught sage who lives like a bum. He awakens the violent monster lurking inside our humble teacher through a series of violent initiation rituals culminating in a sadistic kangaroo hunt. Let it be noted that the kangaroo hunt is real, and may prove upsetting to animal lovers. On the other hand, this rawness offers a naturalistic, almost documentary-like feel.

Our hero’s journey brings him face-to-face with his inner self, in a transformation that verges on self-destruction. In any case, it isn’t a ian, surrealistic tale, even if the premise suggests something along these lines. It’s about real horrors and the way our instincts make a fool out of us. It is, above all, a psychological odyssey with a few sociological elements. A dark transgressive masterpiece, but not exactly a weird one.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…this strange and beguiling film (served with a tangy chaser of black humour) has been given a thoroughly welcoming digital spruce-up…  an absolute must-see for fans of cult, off-kilter cinema.”–Adam Lowes, HeyUGuys (Blu-ray)

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I think this movie is better than average

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POD 366, EP. 185: A MILDLY WEIRD WEEK SAVED BY “KWAIDAN”

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Audio link (Spotify)

YouTube link

Discussed in this episode:

Annihilation (2018): Read Gregory J. Smalley’s review. A lovely 4K UHD/Blu-ray steelbook edition of ‘s dreamy, pastel-colored feminine sci-fi feature. Buy Annihilation.

Backrooms 2 (est 202?): More fuel on the Backrooms 2 rumor fire, delivered with a high degree of confidence. And yes, of course director Kane Parsons wants the story to focus on Async.  We warned A24 not to push their luck. This sounds like a mistake: aesthetically, that is. It will probably make money. (Parsons apparently also has an original story in the works, under the tutelage of mentor : we’re more hopeful about that one.) Dread Central broke the news.

Helter Skelter (2012): Read Shane Wilson’s review. This somewhat obscure film, which is like an earlier, less-crazy Japanese version of The Substance, comes out in a limited edition from 88 Films in the UK. Besides new artwork and the limited edition number, it looks substantially similar to the US release from March of this year.  Buy Helter Skelter from the distributor (UK site).

I Want Your Sex (2026): A contemporary artist manipulates her naive assistant into a BDSM relationship that (naturally) spirals out of control. ‘s latest is an eccentric BDSM dramedy with rom-com beats, now available on VOD at premium pricing. Buy or rent I Want Your Sex.

Kwaidan (1964): Read the Canonically Weird entry! The stunningly lovely restored version of Japan’s most famous ghost story anthology opens in NYC this week, rolling out to other art-house-housing cities in the future. Expect a Criterion Collection 4K re-release in the near future. Kwaidan at Janus Films.

This Is Buzz (2026): Documentary about the short-lived, short-attention-span avant-garde MTV show “Buzz” from the early 90s. This roadshow release starts in various California cities next week; check the following link to see if it’s coming to a town near you. This Is Buzz at Antenna Releasing.

Vincent Must Die remake: Giles Edwards told us the French/Belgian original about a man everyone wants to kill was a weird movie, so Hollywood rushed to correct that. This English-language version will be the directorial debut of David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick, whose previous work as a screenwriter and producer on Orphan, as well as Insidious and The Conjuring sequels, doesn’t arouse a great deal of confidence. Variety has the news.

WHAT’S IN THE PIPELINE:

, director of Cat Sick Blues, will be our guest on the next Pod 366 (this bizarre and disturbing shocker is currently free on Tubi, if you want to do your homework). In written content, Michael Diamades drinks in Australia’s boozy nightmare Wake in Fright (1971), Shane Wilson has intrusive thoughts about L’intrus (2004), Germán Biener stares at Flesh of the Void (2017) (starring “Man Without a Face” and “Dead Flesh”), and Gregory J. Smalley warns you whether the newly-resurrected Scarlet Warning 666 (1974) (AKA It Happened One Weekend, AKA Scarlet Love) is, as its box cover asks, “a lost cinematic masterpiece of a mad genius, or THE WORST MOVIE EVER MADE?” Onward and weirdward!

CAPSULE: CAMP (2025)

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DIRECTED BY: Avalon Fast

FEATURING: Zola Grimmer

PLOT: A traumatized college girl reluctantly volunteers as a counselor at a camp for “damaged” kids, but when she gets there she finds the other female counselors are practicing homemade witchcraft.

Still from Camp (2025)

COMMENTS: Poor Emily has had it rough the past couple years. Already wracked with guilt for a fatal accident that wasn’t really her fault, she finds herself responsible for a second unintentional death, making her feel like a serial killer. She leans on her father for support, and when he suggests the depressed girl could benefit by serving as a counselor at a Christian-themed camp for “damaged” kids, she agrees. There, she finds herself eagerly embraced by her fellow counselors, who aren’t nearly as Christian as management would prefer: every night is an campfire bacchanalia of dancing, flirting, pot, and alcohol. But, just as the Christians warn, weed, booze, and dancing are inevitably a gateway to witchcraft—and, perhaps, to psychic healing as well.

Where Camp is good is in the dreamy cinematography and imagery. Fast’s movie is shot through with experimental impulses, from fuzzy montages underlaid by indie ballads to a red-midnight rendezvous to overlays of twinkling stars as females cavort (and levitate) in the moonlight. Although the Alberta forest is entrancing, occasionally, mountainous backdrops seen from out the window are obvious matte paintings instead of natural vistas. After the indie dramatics of the first two acts, things slide towards the surreal: there’s a pay phone that pops up in the middle of a sylvan glen in the late going at a moment of crucial decision for our protagonist. In terms of setting a dreamy mood, Camp hits the notes it aims at, and for some, that will be enough.

But where Camp is bad is, sadly, pretty much everything else. Not only does the plot wander around aimlessly for most of the film, the characters are unmemorable. Emily’s female confidants are hardly developed: there’s the ringleader, there’s the kinda sexy one, and there’s… two others. The male characters are even sketchier, with only the camp’s senior leader, a wait-until-marriage hymn-singing straight-arrow, receiving significant attention. (There’s another guy who’s positioned as a potentially darker influence, but his plotline seems to fall victim to the cutting room floor.) And, although other critics seem to disagree, Emily herself is too much of a cipher: a knot of guilt, and little more. (What are her interests and hobbies, besides self-medicating and moping?) It’s not the actress’ fault: Grimmer portrays all the appropriate emotions, but why (beyond the obvious) and, more specifically, how her tragedies makes her “damaged” remains something of a mystery.

The overall result is disappointing, because Fast’s visual sensibilities are so engaging and the story has such a weighty theme that you wish these virtues had been wedded to a more affecting narrative. Instead, we get an often lovely mood piece with sincere impulses that’s undone by draggy pacing. If you’re looking for fun at a late-summer Camp, book Miasma instead.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Surreal in a manner that evokes aspects of David Lynch by way of Jane Schoenbrun, Fast’s atmospheric film is more interested in embracing the protagonist’s emotional damage than presenting her with a tidy way out from under it.”–Josh Goller, Spectrum Culture (contemporaneous)

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