Audition ★★★½

I wish there was a very nice woman hiding somewhere.

Get ready for some meaty business. Black leather apron on, black leather gloves, a honeyed voice that keeps on murmuring Kiri-Kiri-Kiri, Kiri-Kiri-Kiri. She delicately abrades away those reddish lumps of flesh with her syrupy-dripping words, plunging acupuncture needles on soft spots, girlishly and unabashedly metal wiring around the foot. Right foot, please. Words create lies but pain can be trusted. Pain for the muscles, pain for the tissues, pain for the bones as they are grinded and squeamishly dissected under the hand of Miike’s slow-cooked butchery. A 360° disoriented neck-bender which initially gives a false sense of security with sheepish stares and blushing mannerisms. Everything is just too good to be true from the beginning. The heavy-footed pacing fascinates and perturbs in its eerie tempo while the mysteriously contorted sack forewarns something sickly insane is about to ensue.

Ōdishon is irritatingly difficult and gnarly agitating to cope, like a sharp piano wire bloodily wrapping, serpentining around the limbs, never letting go. One part sweet, one part hallucinatory and another part demented. There are only dehumanizing pains and sufferings - An acute sting of female empowerment fantasy could be felt on the eyeball-needles. It’s not the gore that churns the stomach, it’s the perverse, gleeful grins that constantly nauseate to the point of regurgitating. Try to endure this baffling agony so you can discover its sickly nightmarish beauty. Divert your eyes over here, bend your head over there, Asami will always subconsciously reappear and Kiri-Kiri-Kiri-ing you clean until a swift realization hits that it’s no longer a dream...

“Happy people cannot act!"

Hungkat liked these reviews