Tenemos la Carne
DIRECTED BY: Emiliano Rocha Minter
FEATURING: Noé Hernández, María Evoli, Diego Gamaliel
PLOT: A teenage brother and sister find their way to the lair of a hermit, who seduces them into acting out increasingly depraved, increasingly hallucinatory scenarios.
WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE LIST: The overall project may seem to lack much purpose, but it’s intense and uncompromising—and weird—enough to merit a look.
COMMENTS: The new year is only a few weeks old, and already we have a contender for Weirdest Movie of 2017. A demonic hermit uses two disciples—one reluctant, one willing—to transform his habitat into a womblike space where he enacts bizarre, perverse fantasies eventually incorporating sadism, rape, orgies, murder, cannibalism, and more. As the ringmaster in this cavalcade of perversions, Noé Hernández is believably crazy. He looks like he stinks, and rants like a guy you’d cross the street to avoid meeting. He projects a very specific form of charisma: like a Mexican Manson, he has a gravity capable of capturing those irretrievably lost to themselves in his orbit. “People shy from certain thoughts. Their lives are a continuous distraction from their own perversion,” the wild-eyed messiah preaches to an improbably intrigued teenage girl, while flapping his arms like a bird in the void. “Solitude drags you, forces you to come face to face with your darkest fantasies. And when nothing happens, you stop being afraid of your most grotesque thoughts.”
With siblings and a perverted Svengali, the story goes exactly where you think it will; but, incest is only the beginning. Once they indulge that taboo, all the walls come crashing down—and the plot immediately hops onto whatever crazy train it can catch, going to places you can’t possibly predict. In fact, after the strangely beautiful incest montage, shot in psychedelic thermal imaging and scored to a romantic Spanish ballad, there can hardly be said to be a plot at all, only a series of deranged, escalating provocations. (One presumes that in Catholic Mexico, the movie’s blasphemous parody of Christ—both the resurrection and the Eucharist—is the most shocking element). On a literal level, you might try to explain it all as the result of an all-purpose drug the hermit keeps in an eyedropper, which is capable of producing intoxication, serving as an antidote to his own homebrewed poisons, and possibly preserving the brains of those he’s lobotomized. More likely, the hermit simply personifies perverse desire, and the movie is a representation of the nightmare of a narcissistic world of pure desire without taboos or boundaries. The tumbling of moral walls allows the irrational to flood in.
As shock cinema goes, Flesh displays far more artistry than most. The lighting is extraordinary—purple-lit faces in front of glowing yellow portals that serve to block, rather than lead to, the opaque outside world. These touches elevate the minimalist set into a true dream space. The music is also well-deployed, with horror-standard rumblings alternating with ironically beautiful ballads and a Bach concerto. Flesh shows the imagination of Jodorowsky, mixed with the despairing nihilism of von Trier, in a scenario reminiscent of Salo.
As for misgivings: I wonder if Flesh has enough substance to compensate us for its unpleasantness. Late in the film, it takes a stab at social relevance, with a subversive recital of the Mexican national anthem and a paradigm-shifting final scene. But these digressions come off as afterthoughts to a movie whose main interest is to indulge its own most grotesque thoughts. And there, I wonder if the film doesn’t pull its own perverse punch. A Clockwork Orange‘s Alex was deeply chilling because he made you feel the appeal and charm of evil; the hermit here does not. He’s too clearly insane, too cartoonish in his fleshy villainy. The ominous music and horror movie atmosphere also instruct you to be repulsed rather than aroused. Despite the madman’s advice, this movie does want you to be afraid of its most grotesque thoughts. But fans of extremity cinema will—pardon the pun—eat it up.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:
“We Are The Flesh is a bizarrely arresting treat from an exciting new talent. It’s also just about the strangest film you’ll see this year.”–Michael Coldwell, Starburst (contemporaneous)
2 thoughts on “LIST CANDIDATE: WE ARE THE FLESH (2016)”
My vote would be against this being added to the list. While the camerawork and lighting are stunning, and the little cave-world they create is an unforgettable setpiece, the film devolves into pathetic shock-porn, it’s not so much “weird” as juvenile and desperate for attention. The weirdest thing about it is the “reveal” at the last scene, but by that point it really seemed like the film didn’t have much of a point to make. You hit the nail on the head with the influences; Jodorowsky without the intellect, Clockwork without the purpose, von Trier without the plot or interesting characters, basically a retread of Salo but without even the basic political satire of that! It almost slightly reminded me of Dr. Caligari from the 80s, but at least I had tons of fun watching that one.
This was just another torture porn, but packaged as an art film, and while most films of the genre focus on the “torture”, this one was more focussed on the “porn”. Meh.
That was refreshing. I’m surprised it didn’t snag a spot on the list.
I didn’t think of torture porn whilst watching it.
Mexican Manson is a great description. Hernandez performance was mesmerising.
I loved the atmosphere of it all and despite all its grottiness I found it dripping with eroticism like a primordial puddle of filth. The lighting, contours, the womb-set and all the bodily fluids. The way the female was changing.
And also I was just happy cos I wasn’t watching something I found predictable or like I’d seen before. Hence refreshing.
I’d give it a vote for Apocrypha if the chance comes up.