Katy M. O'Brian and Kristen Stewart in Love Lies Bleeding. Photo / Supplied
Katy M. O'Brian and Kristen Stewart in Love Lies Bleeding. Photo / Supplied
From now on, when we talk about Kristen Stewart’s career, we need never again mention Twilight’s Bella Swan. From her work with indie French director Olivier Assayas (Personal Shopper, Clouds of Sils Maria) to her perfect embodiment of Princess Di in the imperfect drama Spencer, Stewart keeps sticking stakes throughthe heart of her career-launching teen vampire lover.
In Love Lies Bleeding, the earnest actress dons stone-washed jeans and a greasy mullet hairdo to portray Lou, a tough young woman trapped in a small, redneck town in 1980s rural New Mexico, whose loyalty to family threatens to destroy her one chance at true love. It’s a gripping tale of intergenerational trauma, domestic violence and sweaty passion, told with panache by young English film-maker Rose Glass, directing her second feature.
Out-and-proud Stewart is captivating and feels effortlessly real as the lesbian gym manager who falls in love with female bodybuilder Jackie (martial artist and actress Katy O’Brian). Through a haze of steroids and pheromones, Lou and Jackie become entwined in each other’s lives and dreams. Soon they are entangled in covering up a brutal crime, which serves up the hardest of dilemmas.
Ethan Coen’s recent lesbian lovefest Drive-Away Dolls let down its strong cast with a weak story, total lack of chemistry or intrigue, and that uncomfortable feeling you get when a 66-year-old guy is behind the camera directing a whole lot of girls having sex.
By comparison, Love Lies Bleeding is a well-acted, ecstatic and uncomfortably visceral story of desperation and devotion. Glass, whose well-received debut was the 2019 psychological horror Saint Maud, shows excellent command of her snappy screenplay and brooding production design, as she confidently directs stalwart Ed Harris, looking horribly sinister in a long-hair bald-wig combo as Lou’s criminal father.
The film’s razor-sharp sound design is also sensational, punctuating the action with crunching bones and popping muscles. As Lou and Jackie find themselves in deeper trouble, the plot unravels somewhat, but it’s fun noting Glass’s nods to masters of the thriller genre – the Cronenberg-ian body horror and several callbacks to David Lynch’s Lost Highway. These are fitting reference points for a bravura, female-centred flick that illustrates just how well women can play men at their own ghastly game.
