Rose Glass‘ brutal and sexy slab of muscular noir applies a queer love story to a retro exploitation shocker, and skips merrily down that tonal razor blade for its duration, daring the audience to come along for the ride. Kristen Stewart is no stranger to this marriage of pulp and arthouse, but the film belongs to relative newcomer Katy O’Brian as the transient bodybuilder who turns the head of Stewart’ gym manager.

Jackie (O’Brian) stops off in a small-town en route to Las Vegas for a bodybuilding contest. She meets Lou (Stewart) the day after she arrives and the pair become an item almost instantly. Unfortunately, Jackie gets drawn into the criminal side of Lou’s family, from which Lou has been consciously trying to distance herself, not least her seedy father (Ed Harris, putting a redneck spin on his A History of Violence role). One shocking moment of violence begins a chain of events that even family ties won’t paper over.

There’s something of the western in Love Lies Bleeding as a drifter gets embroiled in the affairs of a fractious small town. There’s also hints of Drive in its aesthetic, the absurdist humour and abrupt violence of the Coens, and the bugged-out visual of Gilliam‘s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. The beats of small-pond gangsterism are familiar, but Glass and co-writer Weronika Tofilska also layer the narrative with themes of addiction, steroid abuse, domestic violence, and childhood trauma. Some are hinted at and left to percolate nicely. Some are less artfully woven into the film’s fabric – Jena Malone is underserved as Lou’s sister, whose hospitalisation at the hands of scumbag husband Dave Franco proves the flashpoint; a plot device instead of a character – but for the most part, Love Lies Bleeding is a case of some evident faults being easily forgive.

Although Glass’ debut Saint Maud was themed around spiritual matters, it had a fascination with the body. Love Lies Bleeding is no different. There’s a Cronenbergian inquisitiveness for the ways that flesh can be desired, moulded through self-discipline, and ultimately rent asunder. Glass challenges the current perceived wisdom that young moviegoers prefer their films to be sexless through a number of carnal scenes that play with the idea of the female gaze being aesthetically distinct from the male. As perceived through Lou’s besotted perspective, Jackie’s sculpted body is objectified and sexualised, but also worshipped. Far from being gratuitous, the sex scenes lay the groundwork for the relationship, the power dynamics between the pair, and also set up the later, fantastical moments that prove a gauge on where viewers are ultimately likely to fall on the film.

For a narrative that goes increasingly off on weird bout of gonzo surrealism, there’s a real steady hand on the tiller here. The film is about control, or the loss of it. Jackie’s body is all about an iron will that manifests in every muscle. Her exposure to steroids comes through Lou, corresponding to her surrendering to love. There’s a correlation between addiction and romance that is something of a through line. Throughout, there are references to Lou’s attempts to quit smoking, and these are thematically linked to the pair trying to quit each other. But whether it’s the villainous Lou, or their own addiction to each other, there’s always a trigger that pulls them back together again, just as Lou will reach for a smoke, or Jackie will tap that blackened vein between her toes.

Unlike some other films that mine that particular late ’80s aesthetic, Love Lies Bleeding isn’t so obsessed with retro cred that it feels over stylised. The grimy edge of the cinematography has more 70s grit than 80s sheen, and Clint Mansell‘s customarily spot-on electro score evokes the era but feels simultaneously modern. There’s also the judicious use of Throbbing Gristle‘s deeply disquieting ‘Hamburger Lady’, adding more 70s grime. The result is more of a vibe than a concentrated attempt to authentically depict an era; a quotidian and familiar setting from which to blow apart easy expectation. Love Lies Bleeding is a studiedly cult film that may just have enough mainstream appeal to receive a Saltburn jolt of popularity. Whether such success beckons, it’s another startling, highly distinctive piece of filmmaking from the super-talented Rose Glass.

Love Lies Bleeding received its UK Premiere as part of Glasgow Film Festival, and also screens Thu 29 Feb 2024