Rose Glass | Bouquets & Brickbats

04/05/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Rose Glass’s impressive debut film, St Maud, had its UK release slap bang in the middle of lockdown and could only be viewed via streaming. As I watched, I was uncomfortably aware of how much better it would look projected onto a giant screen. Glass’s sophomore film, Love Lies Bleeding, would appear (at least on paper) to be a more straightforward beast than its predecessor, a gritty crime thriller set in New Mexico, sometime in the 1980s. But as I might have predicted, it’s anything but. Here, a genre traditionally driven by male protagonists is ingeniously hijacked to become a vehicle that is equal parts horror and queer romance.

Lou (Kristen Stewart) manages a sleazy gym owned by her dodgy and prosperous father, Lou Senior (Ed Harris). She spends much of her time unblocking toilets and fending off the amorous advances of Daisy (Anna Baryshnikov). Then a stranger visits the gym. Jackie (Katy O’ Brian) is a bodybuilder, intent on preparing herself for a big competition to be held in Las Vegas, and determined to be there at any cost. There’s an instant attraction between the two women and it isn’t long before the two of them are having frantic sex and Lou is shooting Jackie up with ampules taken from her illicit supply of steroids. (Those with an aversion to hypodermics will find themselves looking away at this point.)

Matters become more complicated when Lou finds out that Jackie has taken a job at the gun range owned by Lou Senior. Lou really doesn’t have much to do with her old man, because of something that happened to her in the past, something she’d much rather forget about. Matters come to a head when Lou’s much-loved sister, Beth (Jena Malone), is brutally assaulted by her scumbag partner, JJ (Dave Franco). Jackie, popped up on too many steroids, decides to exact bloody revenge…

The story, co-written by Glass and Weronika Tofilska, takes some sinewy twists and turns from this point and, as the complications pile on, so the suspense steadily mounts. An atmosphere of dread is aided and abetted by the inventive cinematography of Ben Fordesman, who exploits the eeriness of those desert locations to the full, while Clint Mansell’s ominous score helps to amp up the tension.

While this is less of a horror film than St Maud, Glass still manages to throw in some startling tropes – Jackie’s performance at the much-anticipated Las Vegas show starts majestically enough but quickly descends into some truly disturbing imagery as the aforementioned steroids exert their influence. Stewart is, as ever, completely convincing in her role and O’Brian, who is also a martial arts instructor (she developed her stunning physique especially for this film), is astonishing. Veteran Ed Harris, sporting some horrific hair extensions, lends his character a palpable malevolence, inviting comparison to the giant insects Lou Senior breeds (and occasionally eats) in his leisure time.

It’s in the film’s final furlong that Glass really swings for the windmills, unleashing an astonishing development that is as surreal as it’s exhilarating. And if the final coda at first feels like a minor misstep, it makes perfect sense once I’ve had a chance to ponder it.

Best of all, this time, there’s the wonderful luxury of watching the film unfold on a screen that’s big enough to contain its super-ripped star. Don’t wait for streaming. See Love Lies Bleeding as it is meant to be viewed.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

03/02/21

Amazon Prime Video

St Maud is another movie that got away. Released just before cinemas across the country closed their doors, we’ve been literally counting the days to its release on streaming networks. Finally, it’s available and though, inevitably, some of its visceral power must be diluted by viewing it on a smaller screen, it’s nonetheless an assured and confident debut from writer/director Rose Glass.

In a taut one hour, twenty-four minutes, the film manages to keep me guessing right up to the final shocking frame: is Maud simply deluded? Or is there something more to the series of religious ‘visions’ that afflict her on a day-to-day basis? The result, though unremittingly bleak, is undeniably compelling.

Maud (Morfydd Clark) is a former nurse, banished from the hospital where she formally worked for reasons that are only hinted at. We soon learn that ‘Maud’ isn’t even her real name, which explains how she comes to be working in the private sector, caring for the tragic Amanda (Jennifer Ehle) in her home. Amanda is a former dancer and choreographer, a leading light of the theatrical world, now gradually succumbing to the ravages of cancer of the spine, unable to stand, let alone perform a pirouette.

At first, Maud seems like the perfect carer – polite, attentive and gentle – but, as she and Amanda become closer, so Maud is increasingly convinced that Amanda is transgressing God’s laws. Initially, this merely encourages Maud to overstep the mark as a carer, meddling in Amanda’s personal life – but it’s only a matter of time before the mounting conflict results in tragedy.

Set in a sleazy, rain-splashed Scarborough, Glass takes every opportunity to depict the seaside resort as some kind of hell on earth, employing skewed perspectives, even turning the camera lens upside down at key moments in the narrative. The extended sequence where Maud attempts to go out for a ‘night on the town’ is unlikely to put the place on the tourist maps. Clark is phenomenal in the lead role, depicting Maud as an uneasy mixture of smiling geniality and twisted anxiety. I never know which aspect is going to emerge at any given moment, and it’s this uncertainty that keeps me on the edge of my seat throughout.

For Rose Glass, the timing has been disastrous, but it’s interesting to note that, despite everything, St Maud managed to find its way onto many critics’ top-ten films for 2020.’ I’m late to the game but have to agree: this is an astonishing first flight for a director. I look forward to seeing where she goes next.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney