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Sex, drugs and Rock ’n’ Roll. The Rolling Stones elevated those words from mere vocabulary to an institution, nay a veritable alter for fans to worship. Choke, writer Chuck Palahniuk’s latest novel-turned-film relinquishes the drugs and even the music to focus on the sex, but has it got the legs?
Palahniuk describes his writing style as ‘drowning in detail’, which may be overwhelming for the reader, but lends itself perfectly to filmic representation. Famed for a work that impressed cult and mainstream audiences alike, Fight Club resonated due to its anti-consumerist themes and violent masculinity. Viewers also left the cinema very much aware of their predictable predisposition for matching plates, Brad Pitt’s abs (seriously there’s a website dedicated to them) and DIY furniture. IKEA has never looked the same.
Victor Mancini (Sam Rockwell) is a sex addict working through his addictions whilst earning money as an historical interpreter at Colonial Dunsboro, an 18th Century theme park. We meet our fabled leader as he attends rehab with intent to reach the elusive fourth step, meaning he must take an inventory of his life: the film is that inventory. Cue flashbacks of Mancini’s childhood that ultimately explain his sex and abandonment issues, and on a lighter note, his regular visits to see his mother Ida in a mental institution.
With Palahniuk you expect not so much the unexpected, but rather the absurd or subversive. So it is no surprise to learn that ‘the one that got away’ is in fact Ida, played by the irrepressible Angelica Houston, rather than one of his many (and there sure are a lot) sexual conquests. As a consequence of this revelation, we are taught that Victor forcibly chokes himself in restaurants so that strangers offer the Heimlich maneuver and some money.
If this hasn’t spun you out yet, I’ll warn you now the rabbit hole is only going to get deeper. Having slept with pretty much all the hospital staff, Victor meets Paige a seemingly new doctor. It’s from this relationship that Victor’s descent is revealed, yep, he’s only been cloned from tissue taken from the foreskin of a holy relic.
Although the narrative is linear, the constant zig-zagging without tangible explanation makes the film a test for the viewer. A convincing innings by Brad William Henke as Denny, the best friend and fellow sex addict, adds appreciated respite and humour. The constant meanderings however lose pace, and any visit to the theme park or strip club is welcome, as each succinctly summarises the tale thus far.
Director Clark Gregg incorporates the nuances idiosyncratic of Palahniuk’s writing. For example, when looking for a saviour from his self-imposed choking fit, Victor catches sight of a beautiful blonde who he rejects because “uh oh, a Swatch” is on her wrist. Unfortunately these foibles fail to drive the film, leaving Rockwell as the affable med school dropout and Houston the lackadaisical yet fraught mother, to lead.
A satirical love story with an ending that mimics a little too closely the falling buildings and desperately warming clinch of Fight Club, Choke is a labyrinth of a film. Although it wavers, viewing is compulsive as the cacophony of thrills and spills put to the indie score of Radiohead and Ben Kweller, lure you through the looking glass. What did I think? I’ll let Victor himself put it most succinctly: “All I’m going to feel is perfect, beautiful nothing.”
Credits
Director: Clark Gregg
Writer: Chuck Palahniuk
Cast: Sam Rockwell, Angelica Houston, Brad William Henke, Kelly Macdonald
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