“A lot of men would
pay to be in your position.”
“If I paid, this would
be my choice. This is not my choice”
This dialogue, between a rapist and her victim, occurs about
one third into Australian Ana Kokkinos’ “The Book of Revelation” (based on Rupert
Thomson’s novel) a film which is not about the Bible, and to my mind has few
Biblical allusions. It is instead about a dancer called Daniel, played by Tom
Long, who is out buying cigarettes when he is abducted by three hooded
women, taken to a secluded shack, and sexually assaulted for twelve days. Then
he is released, and the rest of the film details his attempts at piecing his
life together, and re-integrating himself into society following his traumatic
experience.
If it sounds like this film might be too harrowing, then it
is and it isn’t. This is not an “easy” film, in the sense that people who are
sensitive to graphic sex or sexual assault will likely be put off by two or
three scenes, yet the scenes of assault largely occur in one ten-minute
stretch, and the film is careful to surround them with scenes which are real.
This film could not be less exploitative.
No, this film is more difficult because it raises a number
of questions about the nature of rape, and the so-called rape culture that is
contained within our society. As David
is being assaulted, as a man myself, I found myself aroused, purely as a
physiological reaction, in much the same way David was aroused against his
will. This echoes Michael Haneke's Funny Games, which made the viewer complicit in the torture
of a middle-class suburban family to make you think about the true nature of screen violence; I admired that film for its nobility of
purpose, and I feel much the same way about this film. You may note that the
film is directed by a woman, but this is not an overtly feminist film, and it
does not subvert the rape revenge genre in the way Baise Moi did. The film
forgoes the revenge entirely. It instead has a vivid sympathy for all
suffering, irrespective of whether it is a man or a woman who is suffering, or
whether it is a man or a woman who is inflicting the suffering.
What massively helps the film is the central performance.
Tom Long is incredibly adept at conveying mental anguish behind a stony
exterior, and whilst there is only one real moment where we see his anguish get
on top of him, his emotions appear to be painted on his face. I was surprised
at how involved I became in his journey and attempts at piecing his life
together following what he went through. His behaviour may not make logical
sense at times, but he makes us understand how sometimes we behave illogically
under pressure, and that’s a tricky thing. Excellent performances also come from
Greta Scacchi as David’s dance tutor, and Deborah Olsen, who
plays Julie, the woman David attempts a relationship with following his ordeal.
They care for David, and again their performances seem real and convincing;
this helps, in a film which could very easily have been highly implausible.
The film also has a clinical detachment, echoing the texture
and tone of 90’s Cronenberg, which I came to appreciate. The camerawork has a
certain classical quality, placing what we need to see plainly at the centre of
the screen, whilst also leaving time for little details (the film is very good
at drawing out smaller moments, such as when David traces his finger over objects in extreme close-up; instances like this, far from being amateurish film-school tics,
bolster the film’s realism and subtly draw the viewer in). Note also the
infrequent symbolism, such as the planes and boats flying away from David. Just because what it symbolises is obvious doesn't make it any less effective.
I understand that this may not be a film for everyone. It
asks difficult questions, and does not pretend to have the answers. It doesn’t
explain things that people accustomed to a traditional narrative may expect,
such as who the rapists are, and why they are doing what they are doing. The
conclusion is far from tidy, and those who are averse to interpretive dance may
be advised to stay away. The film to me is more depiction of what would happen
if a man was placed in the same scenario women are placed in every single day,
as we see and read in the news. It understands socially perceived notions about
the male and female libido (one brave scene sees David try and tell the police
what has happened; they say he must be a “lucky guy”), yet overlays this with
the principle that all forms of violation are bad. The film sticks to its guns
with a certain determination, remembers to be emotionally involving, and can
genuinely claim to make you think. Here I am.
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