‘Le temps détruit tout’: Irréversible

There are a few facts about Irréversible that serve to make it intriguing to those who have not seen it. According to Newsweek, it was the most walked out of film of 2002. In fact, the blurb on the back of the French DVD proudly states that of the 2400 people who saw the film premiere at Cannes where it was nominated for the Palme D’Or, 200 walked out. You may know that the film is, as the title suggests, presented in reverse chronological order and perhaps this knowledge spurs you on to learn some basic plot details. It is at this point that you either embrace your intrigue or decide that this film is not for you.

Regardless of the highly divisive subject matter, Irréversible is without doubt as intriguing as it first seems and only gets more so with every subsequent viewing. Despite its extraordinarily simplistic narrative, the film provides so many talking points that a simple synopsis does it no justice whatsoever. What the film succeeds in doing above all else is taking a simple story and telling it in a way which makes it infinitely more intense, interesting and captivating.

Despite its simplicity, a summary of the film’s plot is a tricky thing to recount. Its success lies not in what happens between the beginning (which is the end) and the end (which is the beginning), but in how it is that we experience what happens. To explain the events of the film in chronological order would be to go against the dynamic of the film itself – whereas some may dismiss the film’s reversal of time as a gimmick, it is this narrative device that not only makes the unremarkable remarkable but also defines the film as a whole, and with real purpose. Time itself is an extremely prominent tool in the presentation of the film’s story; its mission statement is declared both at the beginning (which is the end!) and the end (which is the beginning!) The first words we hear spoken and the last words that we read are “Le temps détruit tout,” meaning “time destroys everything”; in Irréversible, this statement is unquestionably true and backed up with enormous conviction.

Nevertheless, some disclosure is necessary. What I will give you is just enough to allow your understanding of my discussion. Irréversible is a revenge film. Marcus (Vincent Cassel) seeks revenge for the rape and brutal beating (which is most likely fatal, although this isn’t made explicit) of his beautiful girlfriend, Alex (played by Monica Belucci, Cassel’s wife). His powerful urge for revenge, which he considers a human right, leads him and his friend to a gay S&M club called ‘Rectum’ where he has been informed that the culprit resides and this is around about where the film begins. If you consider that all revenge films have very similar dramatic arcs, that is to say that they are strongly grounded in cause and effect structures (the reason for revenge followed by the act of revenge itself), the impact of Irreversible should already be very clear. Rather than cause and effect, the film presents effect followed by cause. This is the essence of the film’s genius and I imagine that countless filmmakers are kicking themselves for not thinking of it first.

The implications of the reverse order storytelling technique are far reaching. As viewers we must process the information that we are receiving in a very different way to how conventional narrative would have us. Rather than the redundant process of observing what happens onscreen, as in life, we are forced to think about what we are seeing and piece it together with information that is withheld from us. We are also denied the enjoyment of anticipating what is to come, but despite this we still anticipate – perhaps even more so – because throughout the film we learn that each consecutive scene reveals more about its predecessor. It is a didactic process, but one so unfamiliar that the result can often lead to temporary confusion and disorientation. The film is constructed in such a way to make us question what we would usually take for granted in such a film. We are forced to think about what motivates the characters into performing the actions to which we bear witness.

Irréversible is responsible for the two most agonising scenes that I have ever witnessed. In the history of cinema there has perhaps never been such a realistic and upsetting depiction of extreme violence; the content of this film is at times so severe that the failsafe of subjectivity is circumvented. One of these scenes involves a man’s head being bludgeoned with the butt of a fire extinguisher and I assure you that my words do its visceral and unforgiving depiction no justice. Despite the fact that no enjoyment whatsoever could be derived from such a scene, I cannot help but marvel at its construction. The actual image itself is but one element of the scene’s sickening influence, the context and the sound design both play a major part in inducing a sense of real dread. We are led by a continuous shot deep into the cavernous basement of ‘Rectum’ where the lighting is sparse and the seediness of the events that take place are spared no detail. A low frequency sound (approximately 28Hz) which is almost inaudible to the human ear and is known to cause nausea is used, conveying a sense of dread. The construction of the scene is immensely affecting; it places the viewer in an extremely uncomfortable position and preys upon their vulnerability by unleashing an act of appalling violence upon them.

Irréversible’s other notorious scene, an act of sexual violence is perpetrated in a merciless 9 minute static camera shot. The film’s writer / director, Gaspar Noé, reportedly decided to eradicate camera movement during this scene in order to avoid eroticising the attack. Whilst this approach clearly avoids such a criticism being levelled at the filmmaker, the scene is only harder to watch as a result. The illusion of voyeurism is one of cinema’s most affecting tools and I frequently found myself drawn to look away from the screen so as to gain a moment’s respite. Even so I could find none; the power of Noé’s imagery is so strong that it stays with the viewer long after it has vanished. Stylistically this scene is different to every other in the film as it is the only one to omit camera movement. It could therefore be argued that by ‘standing out’ the scene draws attention to itself and therefore diminishes the morality of the events that happen within it. Ultimately I think that Noé made an astute choice; it is impossible to feel anything but empathy for Alex.

The film is constructed of 13 continuous shots, each lasting anywhere between 10 and 20 minutes. These shots only have the appearance of being unbroken; they were in fact pieced together from multiple shots using invisible editing and other post-production techniques. The reason for this becomes clear when watching the film; the cinematography is possibly unrivalled in both its execution and relevance to the film’s narrative. At the beginning of the film the camera swirls and spirals uncontrollably, offering only a partial glimpse of the events unfolding before it. It is an awfully disorienting effect and one that takes time to get used to, but this is exactly what Noé wants. He wants us to be uncomfortable, on edge, because this is what the story demands of us. It is both a fascinating and exhausting technique and one that is intrinsically tied to the film’s statement. The same is true of the development in Benoit Debie’s cinematography, which, as the film progresses, settles into a more conventional handheld style. The film’s artistic statement, ‘time destroys everything’ is not only echoed through the narrative (which begins with extreme violence and ends in a state of calm) but also through its aesthetics. The spiralling camerawork at the opening of the film mirrors this deterioration, eventually paralleling the state of calm that is reached through the depiction of events that happened before the chain of vengeance was set in motion. If the film were to be viewed in chronological order, the shift in camerawork from being calm to overly hectic would accurately exemplify the shift in the narrative from a point of equilibrium to a crushing ending.

The true genius, which is not a word that I use lightly, of Noé’s narrative inversion is not felt until the very end of the film. Knowing that he has placed the viewer in a position whereby the present informs the past, he delivers one last crushing blow that serves to somehow make everything that has gone before, as horrific as it was, even worse. This is the film’s most effective moment; it forces upon the audience the realisation that the revenge gained in the opening moments is perhaps not even a fitting punishment. With Irréversible, Gaspar Noé succeeded in bringing the very worst out of me by making me question my own principles. For a moment, I entirely advocated the actions of Albert Dupontel at the beginning of the film – Noé made it possible for me to justify them to myself. It is only when the viewer is at this point that the true power of Irréversible is made clear.

Irréversible is a cinematic experience like no other. Although films like Memento have touched upon the narrative device of reversing time, none have really succeeded in tying to it a purpose in the same way achieved by Noé. This film is impossibly involving on a moralistic level as well as a purely aesthetic one. Films that make people think in new and different ways are few and far between, perhaps for a good reason. When such an example of the power of the cinematic medium surfaces it is almost an obligation of cineastes everywhere to pay attention. Irréversible displays, above all else, the possibility of a visionary rethinking the boundaries of cinema; a rare thing indeed.

As a filmmaker, Noé has written, directed and shot one of the most captivating films in history. I fear that he, nor anyone else, will be able to top it.

Watch a trailer for the film here.