Reviews
[REVIEW] ‘Climax’: Gaspar Noé’s Masterpiece of Dance
I’ve never been much for international travel. While I am not scared of planes, I don’t like the idea of them. My first trip out of the States was to France. I was walking around Paris one night with my then partner as we searched for where the Grand Guignol once stood.
A Chance Encounter in Paris
On our way back to the hotel, we took a random side street to prolong our walk by a few minutes. The clock struck midnight as we walked past a restaurant that had one singular table outside. A handsome mustached man and an elegantly dressed woman sat at this table. The mustache looked familiar to me. A quick and awkward double-take revealed what I thought…I had just walked past Gaspar Noé.
Shaking like a dog, my ex took control and told him how much I loved his films. He slightly remembered me saying hi after a New York screening of Vortex. (Or at least he said he did, I wouldn’t blame him if he just wanted me to go away.) I hold onto this memory fondly and think about it quite often.
What are the odds?
Why Climax Stands Out
Anyways, when thinking about what film to end my June coverage with, Climax was the first film that came to mind. It’s a technical marvel that should not have worked by any means. Brash, offensive, mean, funny, and loud, it’s my favorite film in Noé’s oeuvre. This movie has always stuck out as his most impressive.
Climax is an ensemble piece that feels like it’s always on the brink of falling apart at the seams, but finds a way to pull it all back together. It’s a tragic tale of death, life, and drug-fueled chaos.
The film takes place in 1996 with a dance troupe rehearsing for an upcoming performance. The troupe is led by Emmanuelle (Claude Gajan Maull) under the choreography of Selva (Sofia Boutella). After a long rehearsal, the troupe unwinds with a few cups of sangria and an open dance.
Unfortunately for the dance troupe, one of them has spiked the sangria with LSD. As the drug kicks in, so does the mayhem. Will anyone survive the night and escape the Climax unharmed?
The Unconventional Script
This is usually where I say X film was written by Y and directed by Z. Climax is an unusual beast. The film is directed by Noé, but saying it is written by him would be a disservice to the incredibly talented cast. Noé’s script was a mere five pages long. That’s it.
Nearly every bit of dialogue was improvised by the actors. While improvisation is not out of the norm, it becomes more impressive during the film’s final nearly 45-minute-long one-take.
But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.
Climax starts with a series of framed talking heads. The cast introduces their characters on a tube TV, and the TV is framed with the films and books Noé was inspired by. From there, we are given the only choreographed dance of the film, which unveils itself in a nearly 10-minute take.
Some may think this opening choreography is a bit pretentious and over the top. My response would be that it’s a secondary introduction to the characters. The dance scene follows the talking heads, where we learn who the dancers are as people.
Now, we get to learn who the dancers are as dancers. Each person has their own unique take on styles and it lays out certain dynamics that will come back into play later in the film.
Gaspar Noé’s Cinematic Craft in Climax
Noé and cinematographer Benoît Debie really play with the camera during these long takes. Some shots are directly overhead, some are straight on. It’s impossible not to feel the love and admiration Noé has for this film, with how precise the camera movement is (especially for a film that’s nothing but improvisation).
The extended dance scene is followed by general conversations, which would probably be boring and not handled well under another director. But Noé takes us from a constantly moving, always evolving visual style to a locked shot with nothing but focus on the conversations.
It’s not until 46 minutes in, when Daddy yells, “THIS IS WAR,” that the credits roll. A heart-pounding track plays as the stylized credits reveal the actors, director, and musical credits.
Noé throws the idea of conventional pacing right out the window, as he is wont to do. He brings us up, then down, then up, then down, and then up for the final 42 minutes.
Selva’s Breakdown: A Cinematic Pinnacle
The star moment of the film is Selva’s LSD-induced breakdown. Following Lou’s (Souheila Yacoub) forced abortion, Selva stumbles down the hallway and has a Possession-inspired freakout.
I’ve appreciated everything I’ve seen Sofia Boutella’s performance, but there’s no doubt this scene is the pinnacle moment in her career. The purpose of it is twofold. It’s used to show her current headspace AND it’s a direct homage.
It’s the inverse of Tarantino. Tarantino uses homages to keep the audience interested; Noé uses homages to further his (visual) story.
A Must-Watch Masterclass
If you haven’t seen Climax, I don’t know what you’re doing with your life. It’s an hour and 40 minutes of unbridled chaos. Climax is a masterclass of filmmaking on nearly all fronts.
Thankfully, it’s less epilepsy-inducing than most of his films, so if you’re worried about that, have no fear! Grab a cup of sangria, and dance the night away with Climax as soon as possible.
Film Fests
Overlook Film Festival: ‘Hokum’ Review
No way it’s the horror of 2026, but Hokum could be this year’s most solid “welcome to the big leagues, kid” horror. It’s a pill that’s got the potential to draw in new horror fans, but has enough flavor to satisfy a veteran for 101 minutes. Damian McCarthy definitely learned to polish up his idea of a nightmare from Caveat (2020), to Oddity (2024), to his best feature yet. Literally, sort of. With a single watch of each under my belt… Hokum has the same theme and tone as the previous two, just waxed and remixed. I’m not mad at it, though.
Hokum That Bridges Indie and Mainstream Appeal
Even the freaks like us who live in the underground horror tunnels can understand the public’s genre fatigue. I agree- it can seem like all these remakes and re-hashes are seriously weighing down blockbuster horror these days. The good indie stuff gets looked over, but McCarthy’s most recent film is a decent little in-between. It won’t bother you with a high cinema monologue, but it knows how to make you cringe, and will lock you in a dusty room with it.
It’s vague in exposition, not that a simple idea like this really needs to be super fleshed out. It stars Severance’s Adam Scott as Ohm Bauman, a famous Yankee novelist, a guy who grieves, and a big jerk. He arrives at a boutique Irish inn to scatter the ashes of his parents, and finish the last book in his trilogy. The challenge of writing an asshole lead that still has to convince the audience to root for them is damn refreshing. Scott’s performance holds it up too. He’s got a great jerk-face even without dialogue. He’s easy to pity, though- somewhere between Paul Sheldon from Misery, and a real life Stephen King, who shares the suspiciously balanced atmosphere that drove Jack Torrence nuts in The Shining.
Familiar Horror Influences with a Refined Execution
McCarthy borrows a lot from those two, and probably a catalog of blockbuster peek-a-boo scary movies. The reason Hokum is a good challenge for the horror gateway, is that it doesn’t try too hard to “elevate” (it does, though only a little) the genre. It listens and learns from its elders to complete the haunted hotel play-by-play. Not a repeat, but a re-do of the things that work for paranormal and folk horror. The aspect that Hokum brings home is the solid polycule made of production design, sound mixing, and cinematography. A happy, creepy home of cobwebs and jump scares.
The only hotel staff spared from Ohm’s terrible attitude is Fiona. When he learns she’s gone missing after a Halloween party he was famously blackout drunk for, he feels a responsibility to return the kindness and effort she had shown him. The last person to speak to Fiona was local kooky guy, Jerry (David Wilmot). His local status is confirmed by Ohm after Jerry claims Fiona is most likely dead in the honeymoon suite… because her ghost approached him and told him so. Jerry might be crazy, but Ohm has nothing to live for, apparently. Ohm agrees to investigate the suite that the hotel staff keep locked and out of service. It’s haunted by a witch, they say. Obviously.
Production Design and Sound Craft a Claustrophobic Nightmare
The suite, and the source of Hokum’s nightmares, is stunning work in the macabre department. Despite my distaste for them, it really is a playground for jump scares. Lighting and sound design do some real respectable heavy lifting that the viewer is forced (complimentary) to sit through. My personal playground, though, would be the dumbwaiter. The last time I had that much fun with one of those was when lowering Danny into the den of lizard aliens in Zathura (2005). Hokum’s dumbwaiter plays as much of a role as Adam Scott does in his.
Besides the horrors that persist in it, the honeymoon suite really comes alive with the one or two Resident Evil-esque puzzles in order to reach the meat of the mystery. A super engaging focus from cinematographer Colm Hogan to use frame ratio, and other visual camera tricks to induce the claustrophobia of the epicenter of scares. Bring back the dumbwaiter please.
Where Hokum Falls Short
What doesn’t work is excusable. The thin background information on Ohm’s trauma presents itself too often through a jump scare/flashback cocktail. Did this movie need to be 101 minutes, or could it have been 90? Did the viewer need to understand the weight of Ohm’s undesirable childhood? Not to this degree. I think these moments also risk confusion as to what supernatural thing we’re dealing with at the moment: the witch of the honeymoon suite, Fiona’s ghost, or the lasting haunt of Ohm’s mother’s tragic death? The film takes the “less is more” rule at about 70%- not awesome, but a passing grade, no doubt.
Reviews
‘2001 Maniacs’ Is Spring Break…For Racists?!
One of the most entertaining aspects of horror is its subgenres. Zombie films have an ever-branching group of sub-subgenres, as do slashers and paranormal films. It’s honestly exhausting to try to classify some of these films. Hell, my favorite bigfoot film, Night of the Demon, is a cryptid slasher film! Who knew that the slasher subgenre would ever have a cryptid branch to it?! But the straight-to-DVD times of the mid-aughts brought a series of weird slasher-ish films to the shelves of Walmart and FYE’s across the United States. One of those films that caught my eye (at too young an age) was a genuinely weird, trailer park, splatterpunk remake called 2001 Maniacs. (Would this technically fall under the Hellbilly slasher subgenre?)
What Is 2001 Maniacs About?
Anderson Lee (Jay Gillespie), Corey Jones (Matthew Carey), and Nelson Elliot (Dylan Edrington) are three college kids on their way to Daytona for Spring Break. As their college graduation looms, or lack of graduation, they want to go out with a bang. Literally. A detour leads the three and two other groups into the overly cheery town of Pleasant Valley. But this stuck-in-their-ways town has danger lurking beneath it. The town’s mayor, George W. Buckman (Robert Englund), who dons a Confederate flag eye patch, welcomes the eight travelers in with open arms. And just like that, the Guts n’ Glory festival is set to begin! Though who will make it out alive, and who will get turned into tonight’s pot roast?
A Movie that Shares Some Odd Company
I’ll be completely honest. I haven’t watched this movie in over a decade. There was a time in my life when I was hellbent on finding the most messed-up movies I could. As my watchlist grew, so did my desensitization. Movies like this, Freakshow (which proudly boasted it was banned in 47 countries), August Underground, and The Girl Next Door filled out my formative film-viewing years. While I can understand why some of these disgusting movies were made, some completely befuddled me as to why they were even made. Out of all of these films, 2001 Maniacs stuck in my head as the most perplexing of the bunch.
Writers Tim Sullivan and Chris Kobin, with direction from Tim Sullivan, are very competent voices in horror. They co-wrote Driftwood together, which, while not amazing, is better than the reviews suggest. Their work on Snoop Dogg’s Hood of Horror resulted in a great anthology film that gets overlooked in most conversations about anthologies. And Tim Sullivan wrote/directed the second-best segment in Chillerama, “I was a Teenage Werebear”. So, why this movie? Why remake Herschell Gordon Lewis’s just as perplexing Two Thousand Maniacs!?
2001 Maniacs’ Surprising Connection to Cabin Fever
Quick aside, since we’re also covering Cabin Fever 2: Spring Fever this month. What’s interesting is that this film stars Giuseppe Andrews as Harper Alexander (who reprises his role of Deputy Winston in Cabin Fever 2). And towards the beginning of this film, Eli Roth reprises his role of Justin from Cabin Fever. So, Eli Roth exists in this world as his character from Cabin Fever, but Giuseppe Andrews exists as a completely different entity. That’s neither here nor there. Just an interesting observation that implies the flesh-eating disease also exists within this world. What are the odds? As much as I despise Eli Roth, it would have been fascinating to see this group of characters battle Confederate ghosts AND a flesh-eating disease.
Okay, where were we?
The Incredibly Shaky Acting in 2001 Maniacs
Nothing about this film works, except for a handful of practical effects. You can all hate me for what I’m about to say…and that’s okay. Robert Englund and Lin Shaye are not good actors. I will concede that Englud is great as Freddy, and he has worked his way into his legendary status. Beyond that? Not so much. Lin Shaye just…she’s a nepo sister who got in while the getting was good. Her high-pitched, high-energy line readings get old after more than 30 seconds of screentime. It’s easy to see why she has so many fans, and I’m happy that they have thousands of films to watch her in. I just think she took the spot of a potentially better actor. Though you should not mistake what I said as me saying the other actors in this movie are great. Because that is simply untrue. Nearly every scene feels as if the actors are reading their lines from a teleprompter slightly off-screen.
Do the Kills Make it Worth Sitting Through?
“But the point of this movie is the gory kills!” Okay, and? A few of the kills in 2001 Maniacs are fun and inventive, but you have to sit through endless filler until you get there. It gets to a point where this movie’s horniness becomes so over the top that even a hypersexual Joe Bob Briggs fan would become annoyed. You can say that it’s because this movie is a horror comedy, or that it’s supposed to be tongue-in-cheek. And I can come right back and say that there is not a single bit of ‘comedy’ in this movie that works. Vampires Suck is funnier than this. Hell, Disaster Movie is funnier than this.
2001 Maniacs is a Big Skip
2001 Maniacs is the closest I’ve come to a DNF when covering a film for Horror Press. The movie’s blatant racism-played-for-jokes becomes old before it even gets started. Decent practical effects are ruined by mid-aughts digital effects that would make the SciFi Channel cringe. God, how many times can you scream, “The South’s gonna rise again,” before it stops becoming satire and becomes weird? Calling this movie satire would be unfair because there is not a single moment of awareness throughout. Yes, they make Southerners look like pig-screwing dimwits, but it feels like it’s only done to cover their asses.
Do not watch 2001 Maniacs. It is a truly terrible movie. And that’s coming from someone who has watched nearly every SciFi Original, Mongolian Deathworm, and has sat through Verotika eight times.


