“Corporeality interweaves with social commentary to create a film that simultaneously nauseates and titillates.”

Over the course of a couple of decades Ann Oren has been focused on exploring the human body and how it functions within its environment. Starting her career as a performance artist, she gradually transitioned to working behind the camera, determined to unravel the secrets that divide humanity from the natural world, focusing on aspects of existence that tend to be overlooked. She is fascinated by bodies, as evidenced in the work she has done – and her most recent directorial outing, Objet a (her third feature film, and her follow-up to the intriguing Piaffe four years ago) contains some of her most incredible observations and clear attempts to provoke. The film follows Ingeborg and Adam, two exceptional surgeons working in an unnamed German city. They each have their own very strict routine, which works for their lifestyle as both spouses and colleagues. However, a sudden accident results in Ingeborg being temporarily injured, which throws their entire routine into disarray. She realizes that she may not be able to perform her duties as expected, and despite a temporary solution the couple find themselves drifting apart as a result, discovering that there was much more than a strict routine keeping them together. At a glance Objet a sounds like a relatively conventional film, but anyone who has encountered Oren’s work before will know that she does not seek to follow traditions, whether narratively or visually. The result is an unusual film that exists at the intersection between romantic drama and body horror, with some aspects of social satire and psychological thriller thrown in for good measure, making for an enthralling and deeply unsettling glimpse into the inner recesses of the human mind.  

Despite only running at a perfectly average 95 minutes, Objet a manages to package an astonishing amount of subject matter into this short time. This is primarily because Oren is someone who finds meaning in unexpected places, focusing on elements that many tend to take for granted or rarely perceive as being worthy of in-depth examination. The core of this film is built around what seems to be a relatively comfortable marriage (I’d avoid calling it a happy relationship, since both parties seem to get very little enjoyment out of life based on how seriously they take their day-to-day routine), which slowly begins to decay after a minor injury. The kind that would heal within a month or two, but it causes their carefully balanced marriage to spiral out of control, exposing the flaws that they have both been fervently concealing. The concept of a broken leg correlating with the steady fracturing of a relationship would be quite on-the-nose had it not been handled alongside a wealth of other themes that somehow both support and contradict it. Ingeborg and Adam are individuals united in their shared desires, using each other as a platform on which they can explore their unique addictions, which is called into question when the seams beneath their seemingly copacetic marriage get exposed to the outside world. This causes a slow deterioration to the point where even they begin to question themselves, reflecting their declining psychological states in the process, particularly as they start to see the natural world encroaching onto the artificial, clinical lives that they have manufactured for themselves. Objet a presents their lives as a series of mundane moments in between expressions of their inner perversions and desires, which are either rendered in their bedroom or the operating room, demonstrating the catastrophic impact of having their regimented routine punctured by an unexpected inconvenience.  

A film like Objet a can only be effective through a strong partnership between a director and their actors, since this is constructed as a collaborative process, particularly when it comes to finding these characters and giving them motivation. Oren is fortunate enough to have assembled a small but exceptional cast that seems to share her vision for this material, as well as being willing to undertake a daunting process of venturing into the heart of some challenging characters. The idea of a performance being “brave” is massively overstated, and mostly used to describe an actor who does something only slightly more intense than usual. However, the work being done by Aenne Schwarz (one of the most gifted actors to emerge in the arthouse scene over the past decade) is the very definition of fearless. The vulnerability and honesty she brings to the role of Ingeborg, a woman watching her entire life collapse around her as a result of a minor injury, is astonishing. She finds a depth to this woman trying desperately to hold onto her already unsteady grasp on reality, and once she inevitably does lose her grip, trying to make sense of the never-ending free fall that ensues. It’s a brilliant performance that makes exceptional use of Schwarz’s ability to remain stoic and stone-faced for the most part, while gradually exposing the intense emotions beneath the surface to the point where we consistently feel like she is on the verge of eruption. Louis Hofmann and Simone Bucio, the latter reuniting with the director after their work on Piaffe, are also very strong, although much more reserved and distant (since we rarely get the same extensive glimpses into their minds as we do with Schwarz), but with their own moments to command the screen. Objet a is a film that explores unorthodox power dynamics among this unconventional ménage à trois, built around the perpetual tug-of-war between three emotionally stunted people, each of them attempting to satiate some underlying addiction through impulsive decisions that lead them down different paths of self-destruction.  

There is much more to Objet a than simply an unsettling character study built around the themes of desire and the pursuit of eternally insatiable cravings, even if that is the foundation on which the film is built. Oren is a unique voice, a filmmaker who marches to the beat of her own drum, her originality and ability to evoke so much through unconventional means being one of the reasons this film is so incredibly effective. The film seems to take place in the ambiguous space between fantasy and reality, and the dreamlike tone becomes steadily more disorienting, creating the illusion of being detached from recognizable reality. This is buttressed by the interplay between unbearable tension and some pitch-black humor that only further emphasizes the feeling of being adrift in a world that does not make much sense. The formal qualities of the film include stark cinematography which oscillates between extreme close-ups of the human body in motion and wider depictions of the surroundings that attempt to situate us in this vague setting, but intentionally never capture a concrete sense of time or place. Also the slow, deliberate editing reflects the rigid, cold themes that simmer beneath the surface of this film; quite interesting considering the story revolves around a trio of characters attempting to satisfy their passionate desires. Objet a manages to be provocative without becoming too unwieldy or obtuse, focusing on how it delivers this challenging story while also giving the viewer a unique experience. It features some genuinely disconcerting imagery that could only come from tapping into a more absurd side of the human condition. A far more daunting task than it seems at first, but one that the director is more than happy to undertake in the pursuit of the deeper message sitting beneath the surface of this strange but compelling film.  

Concealed beneath the layers of stilted dialogue and awkward interactions sits a harrowing psychological character study about the lengths to which we will go to quench those unbearable desires that bubble deep within our souls. Through a purposefully exaggerated, offbeat depiction of society, Oren manages to make quite a statement, crafting a film in which every movement, gesture and expression tells its own story and communicates ideas much deeper than the spoken dialogue, which seems to exist only to provide the necessary context. Corporeality interweaves with social commentary to create a film that simultaneously nauseates and titillates, underlining the fact that it comes from a director who knows precisely how to push boundaries while also showing the appropriate amount of restraint. She understands that audiences don’t always need answers to every conundrum she poses, and instead focuses on delivering a film confident in its own originality. Oren crafts a story defined by her uncompromisingly bold vision, constructed around the interplay between the psychological and the carnal, two sides of the human experience that we don’t often see combined in such a radical manner, where every moment could be read as either a direct statement of purpose or a thinly veiled allegory for something much more profound. Whatever meaning is gleaned from this film is up to the individual viewer, who will likely assert their own interpretation of this daring attempt to seek out the horror and humor embedded in everyday life, with particular focus on that perplexing but intriguing moment when the strange becomes familiar, and we recognize the absurdity of existence. Provocative to the point of being nearly deranged, while genuinely well-crafted enough to keep us invested and curious, Objet a proves that its title is well-chosen. It takes an already unusual concept built around ambiguity and the treatment of the human body as a vessel for deeper psychological examination, and reconfigures it into this wonderfully strange artistic oddity that truly needs to be seen to be believed.   

(c) Image copyright – Juan Sarmiento, G. Schuldenberg Films