A vaginal crevice, deep in New Mexico, gives birth to the celestial night. The universe is woman born and beyond comprehension. We linger on the stars and their infinite stories before gliding back to earth, circa 1989, to the throbbing light of the Crater Gym. The Golden Era of bodybuilding has been and gone and the sickly green pallor that coats the sweat and gristle of sculpted bodies belies the ideal of hard work and sacrifice as the canker of anabolic steroids gurgle and swirl beneath the surface.
When we first meet the manager, Lou, she is up to her elbows in shit, unblocking the smaller crevice of the toilet, loosening the detritus left behind by the body beautiful. Waste, the price of the American Dream. Why should the grandeur of the cosmos centre on her? For one, Lou is played by Kristen Stewart, one of the few bona fide Hollywood stars left in existence, masquerading as a peerless character actor. The way she holds a stare, the way she holds a cigarette, the way she pushes her fingers through her slicked back hair, she could be Matt Dillon or Sean Penn if this film had been made in the year it is set in.
In one establishing shot, Lou stands outside the gym, the night has that Spielbergian sheen, that feeling that Lou might be abducted by aliens leaving behind her truck and a cigarette, its tip glowing faintly in the dark. Lou’s impending rapture will not be at the appendages of extra-terrestrials but by the clean lines and veins of Jackie (a career standout performance from Katy O’Brian), a bodybuilder from Oklahoma. Jackie has a smile that ignites the horizon, eyes that radiate absolute belief in her own talent. Lou is immediately smitten, lured by Jackie’s luminous swagger, her earnest physical presence.
When Lou breaks out the steroids it’s difficult to work out who is the moth and who is the flame. When Lou rolls her tongue around the word “edge”, we have an idea. Lou’s tougher than she looks. The attraction is instant and automatic, a neo-noir montage of hot sex, shrink wrapped guns, and sweaty workouts place us in the same territory as 90s genre classics Red Rock West or the wonderfully demented U-Turn. Lou and Jackie are head over heels in lust, those heady first days and weeks of exploration, those out-of-body experiences where nothing else matters just that orgasmic bloom of the new.
We’re rooting for them, they need each other, they make a great couple but romance and roids don’t make good bedfellows. Toss in the hand grenade of the toxic relationship between Lou’s sister Beth and her scumbag husband J.J. and it’s a recipe for disaster. There is no obvious femme-fatale or domestic woman, director Rose Glass is too shrewd an operator for that but at times Lou and Jackie take on the role of both, the tough, taciturn Lou loves being hoisted up by Jackie’s power, whereas Jackie is coy wearing Lou’s muscle vest after their first sexual encounter.
Both Lou’s steely resolve and her emotional paralysis stem from her estranged father, Lou Snr, who runs a criminal empire via the shooting range Jackie waits tables at. Lou Snr is a reptilian masterpiece who burrows into the psyche of others like the beetles and grubs he so admires. Ed Harris plays him with a sincere decadence, a loving father despite his horrific crimes buried in the depths of the crevice from whence Love Lies Bleeding started.
Throughout Love Lies Bleeding, bodies and minds are horrifically reshaped by violence. Whether they are victims of domestic abuse, gun shots, or roid rage the transformation is always permanent; wounds may heal in time, but the shocking acts of violence always remain. Even Jackie’s bodybuilding is a violent physical act, masochistic and deliberately punishing her own body to transform into something post-human. Lynchian and Cronenbergian body horror is visible throughout, Beth’s injuries are reminiscent of The Elephant Man, but Jackie’s transformation is due to the mental trauma she suffered at the hands of bullies when she was a teenager.
Lou’s fear and loathing is transmitted via vertical edits in the same vein as Oliver Stone’s Natural Born Killers. Flashbacks to Lou’s horrific partnership with her father are captured in blood-red high definition. These insights into Lou’s trauma are chillingly effective and, 30 years on from Natural Born Killers’ controversial release, Love Lies Bleeding is just what the movies needed – a rip-roaring Queer exploitation film shot as an art house classic.
The performances from Stewart and O’Brian are as nuanced as they are bombastic (it’s not too outlandish to say Stewart’s choices are a match for peak De Niro). This is Natural Born Killers for the TikTok generation. A minor masterpiece and endlessly rewatchable.