Loves Lies Bleedings Review

As directorial debuts go, Rose Glass’ Saint Maud really was something. Coming out of nowhere and battling against the Covid-19 odds, the film was a bolt out of the blue and a taut, tense psychological horror that saw Glass put the world on notice.

When you have someone of Danny Boyle’s stature singing your praises, you know you’re onto a winner and, as such, the minute Rose Glass’ debut dropped, it was abundantly clear that this was a filmmaker of immense talent. At a time when horrors are an inescapable cinema ever-present, it can be difficult to cut through the din, yet Saint Maud saw Glass’ voice slice through like a knife.

Yet, as is often the case with these things, that second film is always a tricky one, therefore, the question must be asked – can Rose Glass recapture that Saint Maud magic with its follow-up?

When reclusive gym manager Lou (Kristen Stewart) falls hard for vagrant bodybuilder Jackie (Katy O’Brien) on her way through her backwater town towards Las Vegas in pursuit of her dream, the two enter a passionate romance. However, as secrets, violence, and drugs begin to seep into their burgeoning relationship, their love is soon threatened by the darkness around them.

From Scarborough’s windswept gloom to the sun-baked grime of New Mexico, the tonal U-turn from Saint Maud to Love Lies Bleeding is certainly abrupt, yet it’s one that shows, just two films into her career, that Rose Glass is a filmmaker with enviable range. Whether it’s the psychosexual dissection of its female characters or the exploration of extreme devotion, there are more than a few thematic ties between Saint Maud and Love Lies Bleeding, yet Glass’ sophomore effort sees the writer-director push herself in new and exciting directions.

Swerving Saint Maud’s exploration of religion altogether, Love Lies Bleeding takes an altogether different tact, as it haphazardly hurtles around, hitting on many different themes as it goes. Whether its power, addiction, spiralling violence, or trauma, Glass utilises a far more scattergun approach to Love Lies Bleeding’s subject matter; taking the foundations laid by her first film, building a rocket on it, and gleefully lighting the fuse.

Sure, such a chaotic approach means a few of Love Lies Bleeding’s thematic swings miss, however, it’s hard to begrudge the fact that they were attempted in the first place. With this thematic net spread so wide, Love Lies Bleeding never truly digs much deeper into its topics than pure surface level, yet this is half the film’s fun, and make peace with this somewhat shallow pulpiness and you’re in for one hell of a ride.

As the film shoots off in several different directions, it soon becomes clear that Glass is channelling a wide variety of films and filmmakers, yet, despite such a varied list of inspirations, they very much feel of a piece. Whether it’s pulpy genre kings like Tarantino, the Coens, and John Waters, the absurdities of Lynch, the unflinching realism of Lynne Ramsay, or the body horror heroism of Julia Ducournau, Love Lies Bleeding is a chaotic cacophony of styles, vibes, and influences.

Although overtly pulpy in appearance, there’s so much more going on under Love Lies Bleeding’s grizzled surface. With a deft touch and a willingness to adapt, Rose Glass takes us on a tumultuous tonal ride, as she builds on what Saint Maud started, taking us everywhere from comedy to melodrama to crime caper and back again.

It takes a deft tonal touch to navigate all of this and, for the most part, Rose Glass nails it. Going from the dour stylings of Saint Maud to the tonal mishmash we have here is quite the turnaround, and while the balance occasionally wobbles, it’s right far more often than it’s not.

While Glass’ grip on the film’s tone is impressive, equally so is her mastery over its style. Impeccably crafted and boldly executed, Glass makes the most of Love Lies Bleeding’s otherworldly New Mexico setting to fully embed us in with the various oddballs, lowlifes, and criminals that populate this world.

Grim, grimy, and oh so trashy, Love Lies Bleeding gives a fantastic (and fantastical) sense of its characters, positioning them as thoroughly hard baked into the desert and living on the outer edges of humanity. Out there in their own pocket universe, both tethered to reality and fully detached from it, this ragtag collection of characters are presented as deeply human yet utterly alien-like, cartoonish yet as real as you can get.

Spurred along by an atmospheric, sensual, scintillatingly synthy Clint Mansell score and a suitably 80s-tastic soundtrack, Love Lies Bleeding takes a wonderfully playful approach to its tone. At once absurd, stylish, vibrant, ultra-violent, and unflinching, Glass appears to revel in the film’s tonal fluidity, yet remains narratively focused.

Considering the kind of story this is, the temptation to branch out on rambling plot tangents must have been there, however, Glass picks up where she left off with Saint Maud to offer a taut narrative that thankfully resists the urge to overextend itself. Much like her previous effort, Glass knows precisely what she wants Love Lies Bleeding to be, and she sticks to it, resulting in an enthralling and frequently unpredictable story that keeps you on your toes throughout.

From start to finish, Love Lies Bleeding carries with it a grimy yet seductive allure that will cling to you like dusty sweat, and as the plot twists, turns, and evolves, folding in a variety of different characters as it goes, it becomes readily apparent that the film’s biggest draw is its two leads.

With charisma and chemistry to burn, Kristen Stewart and Katy O’Brien are an absolute dream pairing. Made even more captivating by their contrasting physical appearances, the duo play a huge part in Love Lies Bleeding’s success, possessing an irrepressible combined appeal, yet with each actor standing out in their own right.

As the big household name of the two, Stewart puts in the kind of intensely idiosyncratic performance she has made her own since waving goodbye to the Twilight franchise. Almost everything she’s done since those days seems to have been built around the idea of putting as much daylight between herself and the sparkly vampire thing as possible, and her brilliantly unconventional turn here as the quiet, world-weary Lou further cements this.

It’s a phenomenal performance of duelling fragility and strength that’s among Stewart’s finest to date, however, it’s her relatively unknown co-star who ends up stealing the show from under her nose.

Belying her relative lack of big screen experience, Katy O’Brien is in red hot form as she positively throws herself into a role that must have been incredibly demanding, both physically and mentally. In what certainly feels like her breakout role, O’Brien carries the weight of the entire film on her muscular shoulders in a true powerhouse performance that will undoubtedly be talked about for years to come.

Brawny, bullying, and powerful, yet incredibly fragile and emotionally raw, O’Brien’s performance as Jackie is a true revelation and the perfect foil for both Stewart and the various oddballs and degenerates around her; not least the never less than fantastic Ed Harris, who sports the kind of freakishly deranged haircut only an actor of his standing could get away with.

And in many ways, the unhinged thrill ride that is Ed Harris’ hair style is the perfect encapsulation of the entire film. It’s nasty, it’s wild, it’s funny, it’s gross, it’s bizarre, it’s pulpy, it’s trashy, it’s sexy as hell (ok, maybe not that last one). It’s a lot.

The result is a disposable yet punchy joyride, and everything you could possibly ask for from a pulpy, scuzzy queer noir such as this; one that, despite several wild swings that threaten to derail the film as we enter the final act, sticks the landing, putting the similarly minded (but far inferior) Drive-Away Dolls to shame.

Hot, horny, rough, ready, and pulpy as hell, Love Lies Bleeding is a fun yet intense thrill ride that fully embraces the wild, sun-baked trashiness of its characters and their world. Powered by the killer chemistry of its stars and Rose Glass’ audacious direction, Love Lies Bleeding takes plenty of big swings, yet lands more than enough of them to prove itself another fine addition to its