Possession: The Horror Movie Good Enough to Get Divorced For
When I offered to write about Possession, Andrzej Żuławski’s 1981 masterpiece of relationship horror, I didn’t think it would be too challenging. It’s my favorite horror film. I’ve watched it over a dozen times. And yet, I struggle to posit a description, much less a tribute, that does any sort of justice to this deeply disturbing, across-the-board violent, absolutely bonkers movie.
Żuławski made Possession in the wake of his own split from the actress Małgorzata Braunek, and he claims that much of its Pinteresque dialogue is pulled straight from their couple fights. It’s the story of Mark (Sam Neill), some sort of super-spy who returns to his apartment complex (which sits smack against the Berlin Wall) to find that his wife Anna (Isabelle Adjani) is cheating and wants to leave. As he obsessively investigates, he discovers that his romantic rival is no man but rather a squidlike demon creature. And it just gets weirder from there.
I can talk about Possession for hours and still have way too much to say about it. Although it’s gotten several waves of renewed interest (prompted by its fluctuating cult-classic status, Kier-La Janisse’s essential study House of Psychotic Women, and a limited DVD reissue in 2021), the only place I’ve found it streaming is Metrograph (to which I’m now subscribed, mostly for unlimited viewings of Possession). Here are a few reasons why I love it, and why I think all horror buffs (or movie buffs, really) should do whatever it takes to see it.
It’s the motherfucker of all breakup films
“If you’re here on a date,” said our Michelangelo’s-Jesus-looking host, “you’re either going to break up after this, or you’re going to be rock-solid.” It was the first time I’d seen Possession, at the soon-to-be ingloriously defunct Cinefamily, and I found it thrilling and hilariously over-the-top – my now-ex-wife and I spent the next few months quoting it to each other. But I suppose the host’s prophecy always comes true, on a long-enough timeline, and some couples go back and forth for years after the laughs are long gone.
What has surprised me about Possession is how different each subsequent viewing has felt, my entire experience changing with the seasons and natural disasters of my life. My sympathies shift between the characters. I notice new details in their relationship dynamics and new clues about what drives them apart and keeps them together. It’s a full-spectrum relationship-horror masterpiece that always hurts me in a different place. And it teaches a valuable lesson: If having a kid doesn’t save your marriage, don’t give up until you’ve tried trauma-bonding over a nice, gruesome killing spree.
Relationship horror is a distinct subgenre, including The Brood, Antichrist, Midsommar, Rebecca, and I would throw in Godard’s Contempt, which isn’t a horror flick per se but beautifully captures the magic of living with someone who’s come to despise you. But if you want to see two characters addicted to the thrill of destroying each other, you need to see Possession.
It’s visually fascinating and crawling with subtext
Aside from relationship/divorce horror, Possession includes elements of:
- Body horror
- Creature-feature horror
- Existential horror
- Lynchian identity horror
- Dance horror
- Spy-thriller action-adventure
The movie is famous for… well, primarily for that devastating subway scene, but also for its haunting use of harsh angles, dingy apartments, and the free-floating paranoia of Cold War-era Berlin. It’s also full of hidden visual riddles and red herrings – from green eyes to pink socks to the details of the genuinely nightmarish, rapidly evolving monster from Carlo Rambaldi, who also made the Alien from Alien along with E.T. It’s also gravid with dense monologues and cryptic symbolism about division, spiritual bitterness, and the complex personal philosophy of “faith and chance” that is turning Anna inside out. Truly an embarrassment of stomach-churning riches.
It includes at least three of the wildest performances ever committed to film
Adjani really goes for the brass ring here – the subway scene is a representative sample of the convulsive, agonized intensity she carries throughout the film. (She spent years decompressing from the experience, later calling the film “emotional pornography.”) But Neill also deserves some credit – his turn as Mark is a kaleidoscope of aching confusion, grotesque self-pity, and wounded pride. Throw in Heinz Bennent as Anna’s gloriously sleazy human suitor Heinrich and Michael Hogben as the couple’s neglected, suicidal kid Bob, and you’ve got enough gonzo acting chops for a dozen Nic Cages. Each performance is a sustained primal scream, and although it’s exhausting, it never gets old.
Possession is by turns emotionally wrenching, disturbingly erotic, impossibly rich with oblique references and symbolism, and laugh-out-loud funny. It’s weird, wild, controversial, and not easy to find, but don’t get divorced without it.
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