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X, Y
This digitally lensed mind roaster is among the darkest depictions of male-female dynamics you’ll ever experience. It’s not for everybody, but those up for a superbly made and acted exploration of psychosexual extremes will definitely want to check out X, Y.
The Package
Michael Blumlein’s X, Y (1993) is in my view one of the most remarkable
horror novels of the nineties. It details the madness that ensues when a woman
awakens from an amnesiac fugue convinced she’s a man, and how her relationship
with her boyfriend grows increasingly deranged because of this fact. A
fascinating inquiry into gender polarities and the always-elusive nature of
love, the book is enhanced by the unnervingly clinical approach of its author, a
practicing doctor.
This 2004 film version, written and directed by the debuting Vladimir
Vitkin, is a scrupulously faithful adaptation. That means a none-too-cuddly
work that has sharply divided audiences and distributors; to date (Fall 2008) it
has yet to be released in any form outside the festival venue. That’s a shame,
as I for one believe there is an audience for this intelligent and provocative
film, limited though it may be.
The Story
Frankie is a NYC based topless dancer. One night she collapses upon
hearing the wail of a siren, which affects her in disturbing fashion. She comes
to unsure of who she is, yet convinced of one incontrovertible fact: she’s a
man. Frankie’s meathead boyfriend Terry figures she’s putting on an act, but
he’s convinced it’s a test of their love, and so goes along with it.
Frankie becomes fixated on an individual who was in the bar the night of
the siren, a businessman who passed out at the same time she did. Might Frankie
have somehow switched personalities with this mystery man? Terry manages to
track the man to a hospital bed where the guy is near death, but the man passes
on before he can reveal any info.
This leaves Frankie stuck in the man-as-woman predicament. This new
Frankie doesn’t take to topless dancing with much enthusiasm, and nor does s/he
warm up to Terry. The latter grows so frustrated with the situation that he
finally snaps and rapes Frankie. She in turn hightails it off to her mother’s
house, where Frankie undergoes a much-needed bout of soul-searching.
Days later Frankie returns to Terry a changed man/woman. Frankie has
focused all her anger and frustration on Terry, and becomes determined to make
him pay. Frankie uses his/her feminine wiles to entice Terry into doing all the
household chores and taking an extra job. But what starts out as servitude
takes a turn into outright sadism as Frankie begins tying Terry up and
dispensing torture in a disquietingly random manner, with Terry making for an
all-too-willing victim...and when Frankie takes up knitting, watch out!
The Direction
X, Y has a premise that recalls Hollywood comedies like SWITCH or BIG, but
the body switch conceit is used as a jumping off point more than anything else.
Many viewers will be (and apparently have been) upset that the narrative
doesn’t seem to follow through on its early set-up. That’s how I felt reading
the novel for the first time, but I was drawn back, and found that the tale was
actually a cohesive, streamlined piece of work more akin to
THE BLIND BEAST or
David Cronenberg’s CRASH than FREAKY FRIDAY.
So too the film, which may require multiple viewings to be fully
understood. But it does hold together, and is impressive in the way it segues
from gritty urban drama to quasi-supernatural thriller, and ends up a gory
Cronenbergian freak-out. Writer-director Vladimir Vitkin demonstrates real
confidence and filmmaking savvy, evident in the smooth tonal shifts and
inventive visuals. The performers are likewise up to the challenge,
particularly actress Melissa Murphy as Frankie, who successfully navigates the
character’s transition from tawdry sex object to confused tomboy to out-and-out
seductress.
The pacing may be a mite frantic (several scenes seem
to cut off before they’re complete), but the film definitely isn’t boring, and,
despite being set largely inside the protagonists’ stuffy apartment, never feels
cramped or stagy. Vitkin has also done a near-flawless job condensing Michael
Blumlein’s somewhat bulky novel into a 90-minute framework. The result is a
first-class descent into psychosexual hell, and in my view any film this twisted
deserves a shot at traumatizing unsuspecting audiences everywhere. Let’s hope
X, Y gets that chance!
Vital Statistics
X, Y
Vantage Films
Director: Vladimir Vitkin
Producer: Helmut Gausterer
Screenplay: Vladimir Vitkin
(Based on a novel by Michael Blumlein)
Cinematography: Richard Lopez
Editing: Jack Scope
Cast: Jamie Harrold, Melissa Murphy, Barbara Spiegel, Thomas Jefferson Byrd,
Dina Pearlman, Shelita Birchett, Brian Anthony Wilson, David Vadim, Vinny De
Vingo, Robert Haufrecht, Sean Dougherty