Review of High Life (2019) by Bertaut1 — 28 May 2019

Esoteric and poetic, but very singular; certainly not for everyone.

A science fiction film in name only, High Life has more in common with 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and Solyaris (1971) than with anything in the Star Trek or Star Wars franchises, and is about as multiplex-friendly as anything in writer/director Claire Denis's oeuvre (which is to say, not in the slightest). The presence of Robert Pattinson will probably draw in a lot of unsuspecting folks, who'll have no idea what to make of the slow-paced existential musings, resulting in a slew of "worst film ever" reviews. But although it's not Denis's best (that remains either Beau travail or Les salauds), it's a fascinatingly poetic film that literalises the premise that no amount of evolution, philosophy, or esotericism can change the fact that we're biological organisms controlled by sexual yearning and the impulse to procreate - desire will always trump the social contract.

Like I say, very multiplex-friendly.

On an unnamed ship, Monte (Pattinson) lives alone with his baby daughter Willow (Scarlett Lindsey). However, this wasn't always the case, and as the film begins, he is releasing the bodies of his deceased crewmates into space. How this situation came to pass is revealed via an achronological flashback narrative structure. A group of death row prisoners were offered a pardon if they undertook a mission to extract energy from the area close to a black hole. However, the groups' de facto leader, Dr. Dibs (Juliette Binoche), a criminal herself, is using the journey to harvest the men's semen and attempt to inseminate the women. Monte, however, refuses to comply, arguing that his chastity gives him strength, and so Dibs determines to get a sample by any means necessary.

High Life, written in French by Denis and Jean-Pol Fargeau and translated into English by Geoff Cox, begins with Edenic shots of lush vegetation, before revealing this is a garden on a spaceship, surrounded by and subservient to technology. We then hear a baby crying. This opening, mixing vegetation, technology, and biology, demonstrates the economy of Denis's visual language, telling us much of what we need to know about the upcoming film.

Aesthetically, the most interesting scene is one in which Dibs is shown masturbating. All sexual activity is prohibited on the ship, although the crew are free to use "The Box", a room designed to facilitate masturbation. One particular scene, showing Binoche committing herself entirely to Dibs's masturbatory excess is bathed in a glorious blue light that softens everything it touches, whilst director of photography Yorick Le Saux shoots Dibs entirely from behind, focusing on the muscles in her back, as if a figure from a Botticelli has wandered into a room designed by H.R. Giger. Furthermore, the scene is edited by Guy Lecorne with the use of fades rather than hard cuts, giving a sense of calm which contrasts with the energies of the character.

Thematically, the film unexpectedly has a lot in common with First Reformed; both deal with the end of existence; both examine the possibility of finding hope amidst the cataclysm; both see the human race as not worth saving; both focus on a spiritual character facing a crisis of faith - in First Reformed, that crisis concerns Catholicism, whereas in High Life it's Monte's belief in the importance of self-discipline and chastity.

Of course, on a more prosaic level, the film is obsessed with sexuality. Fluids are a recurring motif throughout, whether blood, sperm, oil, or water. Perhaps the most haunting image is a shot of one character lactating; producing nourishment for a baby she can't feed, as Dibs has taken it from her, the milk running down her body going to waste. Interestingly enough, at the film's première in Toronto, this scene sparked a number of walkouts, almost every one of which was male. Make of that what you will.

In terms of problems, High Life will be far too abstruse for some. Denis obviously intended to make an esoteric film, but for some, it will cross the line from esotericism to impenetrability. In this sense, her litany of themes can come across as a little haphazard, as she jumps around fairly randomly between them, resulting in something of a thematic pile-up. This can feel like a bit of a dead-end, as she leaves several ideas frustratingly incomplete. Another issue is that the journey is never presented urgently, meaning there's rarely tension. And I have to admit, at times my attention wandered.

Nevertheless, High Life is a fascinating film that fits right into Denis's oeuvre. Asking questions about our inability to recognise the oncoming extinction, it offers a savage and pessimistic corrective to the idealism of films such as Interstellar (2014) and The Martian (2015). Positing that mankind is a monster driven by its desires isn't going to earn Denis legions of new fans, but for those of us who were already on board, there's much to be relished here.