Toronto International Film Festival 2018: LES SALOPES: Sex, Skin & Plenty To Talk About

If you find frank depictions of sexuality and carnal pleasure too scandalous, then you might as well close this review and read something else, because you’re probably not going to find Renée Beaulieu’s film appealing regardless of what I tell you. Which is too bad, really. Amidst the provocation and intense eroticism is a fascinating character study of a woman who makes no restrictive concessions with regard to her body and its intimate contact with others, choosing to let her libido guide its own destiny rather than giving way to the dictates of convention.

Because the title Les Salopes more or less translates into English as The Sluts, there is both a temptation to moralize on her actions and see them as a negative manifestation of an unruly soul, as well as a reluctance to make such a brash value judgment. “Slut” is, after all, a harsh pejorative with misogynistic overtones, and not a word to be kicked around idly. From Beaulieu’s perspective, though, such a title makes sense, because it is her first (and most straightforward) challenge to the viewer: will you judge her character for her sexual freedom, or can that pejorative be turned into something more sarcastic and, thus, empowering?

The (Sexy) Science of Skin & Desire

The woman at the centre of it all is Marie-Claire (Brigitte Poupart), an academic who specializes in dermatology and skin cells. One day, a graduate student approaches her with an intriguing research proposal: are these cells altered by the onset of sexual desire in any way? Can the presence of love be physically mapped out on our bodies’ building blocks? Marie-Claire maintains a passive interest at first, but the experiment proves too tempting to resist. Soon she is scraping cells from men she meets behind her husband’s (Vincent Leclerc) back, and even sooner she is no longer scraping anything more than bedposts and tables.

Marie-Claire’s various sexual exploits are juxtaposed against her college friend Mathilde’s (Nathalie Cavezzali) inability to date the right men, as well as the sexual misconduct of her colleague Alexandre (Normand D’Amour), who is accused of assaulting a student. While Marie-Claire seems to be having the time of her life, her reactions to these developments showcase with startling clarity the depth of her own flaws. To Mathilde she is snide; to Alexandre she is sympathetic, and actually goes so far as to victim-blame. What we are forced to take away is how much Marie-Claire still has left to learn, despite her intellectual profession.

A Provocative Approach to #MeToo

The #MeToo moment in this film, and the unpleasant revelation that Marie-Claire sides with the attacker, is tricky to contend with. A surface reading would suggest that Beaulieu is voicing her own opinions through a cipher, which would consequently demolish any goodwill her film has built up. But that doesn’t seem the likely answer, for the men in this film are not exactly shining paragons of their sex, and are frequently made vulnerable through their nudity. When they are shown naked, it is not with the same feral agency as Marie-Claire, who never loses her power when she loses her clothes. Beaulieu would not do this if she simply believed women were merely prisoners of their own desire.

My reading of this controversial subplot is that it is meant to highlight the extent of Marie-Claire’s hubris, complicating her character in a way that is productive rather than reductive. Her liberated sexuality may be worth celebrating, but the way she theorizes the underpinnings of desire displays a contemptuousness that forces us to keep our distance. It is when she begins to understand the faults in her logic after learning of her daughter’s own sexual freedoms that she displays a growth we can partake in ourselves. Except, it’s only a small step forward. The film does not end by fully rehabilitating her character, and there are still many unanswered questions about her motives. It’s a good thing, in my view, since it makes her character (and, likewise, the film itself) a richer one to study and ponder.

Conclusion: Les Salopes, or the Naturally Wanton Pleasure of Skin

If you’ve read this review and are intrigued by Les Salopes, or the Naturally Wanton Pleasure of Skin, then I hope you’re Canadian, because I doubt this one will be crossing many borders. Unless you’re named Xavier Dolan, Québécois filmmaking is still rather niche, and international distributors remain hesitant about picking these films up for broader markets. But hey, Les Salopes and its risqué subversiveness may make a dent, and if it does, I’m sure it will spark many a fascinating conversation. It’s also one of the rare films that makes the case for polyamory on a woman’s terms, which builds on this film’s text even further. Even if you end up hating it, you won’t have a dearth of material to chew on.

Do you think the #MeToo Movement should be used in unexpected or controversial ways so that films can make a bigger statement? Sound off in the comments below!

Les Salopes, or the Naturally Wanton Pleasure of Skin premiered in the Contemporary World Cinema programme of the Toronto International Film Festival on September 7th, 2018. For all international release dates, see here.