Elle has been described as ‘a rape revenge comedy’, which seems unlikely, and also as ‘post-feminist’, which is likely as, in my experience, that simply means anything goes so long as you acknowledge that feminism has happened. The film stars Isabelle Huppert, who was Oscar-nominated for her performance, and who has repeatedly said that her character, Michèle, is not ‘a victim’ although, as you have to watch Michèle being raped or near-raped several times, I don’t know how we can be so sure about that. Perhaps I’m just not sufficiently in touch with my ‘post-feminist’ side to fully comprehend.
Directed by Paul Verhoeven (Basic Instinct, RoboCop, Total Recall, Showgirls) and written by David Birke from a novel by Philippe Djian — correct me if I am wrong, seriously, but have any women ever made a ‘rape revenge’ film, comic or otherwise? — it opens with a black screen, a scream, then the sound of sexual congress. The camera then enters a doorway and we see a woman being raped by a man in a ski mask. He is grunting and rutting. Her shirt is torn and her skirt is pulled up to her waist. He wipes himself down with her knickers before escaping through the French window. Meanwhile, her cat, with its unblinking eyes, watches with the sort of icy feline detachment that makes me, has always made me, and will continue to make me, very much a dog person.
This is Michèle, who lives in a grand Parisian house, which at least makes a change from a cabin in the woods. Michèle shares her cat’s icy detachment. She coolly clears up, and takes a bath where she dispassionately observes the blood from her vagina rising up through the bubbles.
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