Last night I saw the film The Neon Demon at #MIFF2016 (Melbourne International Film Festival). Actually I saw only part of it. I walked out, shaking with a rage that surprised me. Red in the face, stomping, quick heavy movements, heart thumping, hands shaking kind of rage. I wasn’t having a heart attack, so it had to be the film.

I’m a total sucker for anything cine, I don’t just walk out. I sit and feel until I can’t feel anymore. The only other film I have walked out on was The Delinquents because it was so bad it made my ears bleed. I didn’t shake with rage just lamented an hour I couldn’t get back!

But this time it was my heart that was bleeding, and my eyes… and my ears.

Sitting in the Comedy Theatre with 100s of other cinefiles, the credits began. A beautiful glittering colourful clashy bold credit sequence with a beautifully dark enticing soundtrack. You can see the credits here at a fabulous site called Art of the Title.

The film opens on a dead woman, throat cut, heavily made up, body splayed across a chaise lounge. Expensive, displayed, exhibited, on show. Little twist. It was a photo shoot. Not dead. Just pretending.

I love a good crime thriller or mystery, but what remains a mystery is why so often the dead is a woman. She is lingered over, lingered on. Their body, hands, blood, face, the set, the pose.

But I am so very tired of dead women and rape scenes as scenery. Its real life for us! Tired angry!