Inside (2007) Body Horror, French Extremity-Style (Review)

New French extremity holds an important place in film history and for film fans. From Baise-Moi to Martyrs to Irreversible and Raw, this movement of boundary-pushing cinema is characterised by aggressive style, graphic violence and somewhat depraved presentations of humanity. Amelie, this ain’t. Inside from 2007 more than lives up to the name of the genre, with a ferocious assault on the senses that offers a (fun?) thrill ride as well as making interesting points about female roles and identity.

The tone of the film is set early on with a thudding car crash experienced from inside the womb of Sarah (Alysson Paradis). From there, we see the immediate aftermath of this crash with Sarah’s husband killed and the expectant mother severely traumatised. Cut to four months later and, on Christmas Eve, Sarah is morose and depressed as she awaits her delivery. The doting attention of her mother Louise (Nathalie Roussel) and her boss Jean-Pierre (Francois-Regis Marchasson) are pushed aside as she desires a final night alone. But the arrival of a mysterious Woman (Beatrice Dalle) ensure that she is in for a very long night indeed.

It would be fair to describe Inside as a home invasion film, as most of the action takes place in Sarah’s home and her struggle against an invader. But the conceit of invasion goes further, as Sarah’s very body becomes a site of contestation and violation. This leads to a sustained presentation of brutal and intense body horror, including the nastiest use of scissors as well as knitting needles you are likely to see. Belly, face, hands, heads, crotch and throats are all fair game for the multiple pieces of sharp metal here, and just when you think most household items had been used to inflict injury, there’s the thwack of a toaster and yet more pain.

This violence is rightly and fittingly wince-inducing, and turns the home of Sarah into a nightmare space. This violation of domesticity between two women is a disruption of gendered spaces that helps deconstruct (or massacre) norms. One of the strongest cultural stereotypes is that of women being mothers, but here the expectations are subverted. Sarah seems at most resigned to her forthcoming baby while the Woman demonstrates an intense desire for it. Far from being gratuitous or cruel, this is at times a tragic and deeply melancholic tale of grief and loss. The loss continues as other characters meet grisly ends, and potential sources of safety and comfort are skewered (sometimes literally), much as the ‘safe’ space of the home is.

Directors Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury play with audience expectations throughout. Old-fashioned clothes on the Woman as well as the increasing amount of blood stains form striking contrasts between the characters and the spaces around them, a contrast that is further emphasised by expressive lighting that eschews strong contrast between shadow and illumination. This lack of clear boundaries corresponds with spectral appearances that are juxtaposed with ferocious violence, and a parallel between the two women that seems to draw them closer together even as they fight tooth and nail.

Inside is far from an easy watch, offering some of the most horrific violence you are likely to see. It is also, perhaps tellingly, hard to look away from. The sense of empathy one feels for both characters ensures that you are going through this horrendous experience with them, and it is testament to the writers/directors as well as the performers that they take you along for the ordeal. The sheer commitment of everyone involved creates an irresistible draw into the world of the film and, come the ending, you may be glad it is over, but also glad that you went along for the ride.

This Blu-Ray box set from Second Sight Films includes a range of different responses to the film. The film comes with two commentaries from major critics of the horror genre. Critic, writer and podcaster Anna Bogutskaya delivers the first, providing an informed and erudite history of the New French Extremity. Bogutskaya’s analysis of the film’s craft as well as its wider meaning and context is insightful, and her fast and snappy delivery is constantly engaging. The second commentary by freelance critic and writer Elina Lazic also highlights the place of Inside within New French Extremity. Lazic’s commentary is not as engaging as Bogutskaya’s due to some long pauses, but she also offers fascinating insights such as the suggestion that the film may be self-aware and referential, and that it serves as a prominent example of New French Extremity’s implicit criticism of humanity’s separation from nature.

There are several interviews included with this release, all with appropriate names:

• First Born: a new interview with Co-Writer/Directors Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury
• Labour Pains: a new interview with Actor Alysson Paradis
• A New Extreme: a new interview with Producer Franck Ribière
• Womb Raider: a new interview with Cinematographer Laurent Barès
• Reel Action: a new interview with Stunt Coordinator Emmanuel Lanzi

A particular highlight for genre fans is ‘First Born’, as the likeable duo of Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury recount how they met and the early ideas for the film, as well as their mutual desire to work in horror and to avoid making something that was classic or clichéd. Some key points that they emphasise are the importance of the film being about two women, and their remarkable fortune as first-time filmmakers who were able to get the household name actor Beatrice Dalle to play the Woman.

The finest extra, however, is a video essay: ‘The Birth of a Mother: Jenn Adams on Inside’. Adams’ critically informed analysis identifies the archetypes that the two women represent, one in white and the other black, as well as the social assumptions made around women, their bodies and roles. She pays close attention to the scissors and draws harrowing parallels to her own clearly traumatic experience. Her interpretations are intriguing and persuasive, such as the red stain on Sarah’s gown completing her transformation. Those interested in the possible meanings of the film can learn much from this.

The Limited Edition contents also includes a rigid slipcase with new artwork by James Neal, collectors’ art cards and, in a goldmine for serious fans, a 70-page booklet of critical essays from such authors as Chad Collins, Kat Ellinger, Annie Rose Malamet and Hannah Strong. The net result for is a fitting and comprehensive presentation for this enduring and deeply affecting film.

Vincent’s Archive – Inside (2007)