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Bear with me for a moment while I make something up on the spot that will possibly be so utterly wrong that it will be outright laughable. Don’t worry, since I am able to admit that what I’m about to say is completely stream-of-consciousness writing, that allows me to distance myself from what I’m saying, which then absolves me from any possible blame. In fact, my ability to bullshit on the spot managed to get me through many college courses.
 If I can boil it down to simple clichés, art works on two very basic levels: the intellectual level and the emotional level. This simply means that while one might not able to understand the true meaning behind a work of art, there is still enough on the surface to inspire a reaction, be it a smile, shock, or even violence. In fact, it’s quite possible that these base reactions are the most honest reactions one can hope for. We can sit around all day discussing the meaning behind Andres Serrano’s Piss Christ, but a man who pulls the photograph off of a museum wall, throws it to the ground and starts kicking it – he knows exactly what the hell he’s thinking.
This brings us to the nastily confrontational Anatomy Of Hell, by French director and internationally acclaimed bringdown Catherine Breillat, a film that did not work for me on either an intellectual level (though I think this is because I am a moron) nor an emotional level. But enough of my college-drop-out intellectualism. Let’s actually talk about the goddamn movie.
Anatomy Of Hell gets right into the action by introducing us to an unnamed woman (Amira Casar) who, after a brief visit to a gay discotheque, decides to slit her wrists in the bathroom. Maybe it’s the grating techno music, I don’t know, but the plot to do herself in is foiled by an unnamed man, played by famous pornographer and swirlie-giver Rocco Siffredi, here showing off his ability to speak in French. This saves us from an hour-and-a-half of his famous, stomach-churning Euro-trash accent.
When questioned as to why she would attempt to take her own life in the bathroom of a gay nightclub, the woman bluntly states, “Because I am a woman.”
Oh, this can’t be good.
After patching up (and a quick bout of fellatio in the park), the woman hatches a deal with the man, paying him to observe her, to listen to her rambling, to be an impartial judge of her body.
 Let’s just get it out of the way and talk about what makes the movie so infamous: the barrage of what some would consider scenes of hardcore pornography, not only full frontal but honest to God penetration, both heterosexual and homosexual (don’t be too antsy straight men, the gay stuff runs for approximately two seconds, after that it's 90 minutes of pure vaginal spectacle). All sorts of orifices are poked and prodded while both actors recite director and writer Catherine Breillat’s extremist and yet ridiculous dialogue.
 Actually, “ridiculous” might be the wrong word to use. Here’s an excerpt of dialogue that happens from the man to the woman after he inserts his finger into her vagina. You decide:
“I bless the day I was born immune to you and all of your kind. The elastic resistance of a boy’s anus doesn’t lie about the tightness of his lower intestine. The lie about the softness of women is hateful… the malevolent triviality that turns them into a trap. The horror of Nothingness that is the imprescriptible All.”
Now, imagine dialogue like that for 90 minutes.
Does this film really have something important to say about the relationship between man and woman? Well, it’s hard to gauge the importance of the dialogue when it’s sandwiched in between the hardcore scenes featuring Rocco outlining the woman’s anus with lipstick, or when the two sip on menstrual tonics, or when a stone dildo is ejected from a vagina.
By the way, during the scenes of penetration, the camera sometimes cuts to a crucifix on the wall. Anatomy Of Hell is supposed to be a sexual allegory of Adam and Eve, but stuff like that just comes off as a really silly cheap shot.
Presentation
The film’s style is particularly dry and comes off as almost a pseudo-documentary, and the transfer suits it very well. The picture is sharp, a tad grainy, with well-balanced colors. With the audio, you get your choice between Dolby Digital 5.1, DTS 5.1 and Dolby Digital stereo, all presented in French and it doesn’t even matter which one you choose – outside of the club music in the first three minutes, the film is strictly dialogue-only.
 Extras
It might seem like the DVD is near bare, with only a selection of trailers (Anatomy of Hell, Suspicious River, Phone, A Tale Of Two Sisters, Oldboy, Doppelganger, and A Snake of June) and a photo gallery, but under the director interview selection, you get a full one-hour discussion on the making of Anatomy Of Hell with its director, Catherine Breillat. It shouldn’t surprise you that Breillat converses like the dialogue in her films, so if you dig what the movie’s saying, you’ll probably find something worthwhile in the interview.
Overall
Not enjoyable as either artistic statement or pornography, Anatomy Of Hell comes off as confrontation for the sake of confrontation. Any possible message is swallowed up by the sex scenes, which, unless you’re particularly sensitive to genitalia, will come off as blatant, potentially unsuccessful attempts to shock. This film is compelling strictly because you want to see what sort of sexual abhorrence will be shown onscreen.
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