MUSCLE: Flesh and Fantasy

Rating: 📼📼📼📼📼

The art damaged no-fi MUSCLE chronicles destructive erotic obsession and the power dynamics of sadomasochistic relationships. Pinku auteur Hisayasu Satô films extended softcore sequences with a clinical remove that transforms them into something uncomfortable, raw, and dangerous like a human wildlife documentary made by a hornier more homoerotic Croneberg.

In Muscle, Sato travels down a rabbit hole of technoterror and extreme desire 'til fantasy and videotape blur with reality in one writhing slobbering seeping bleeding primal tryst. Get past the front loaded erotic scenes, and there's some real throbbing viscera to chew on concerning sex as destructive, an escape, and a manipulative tool. Losing control can slide from freeing to dangerous if you forget to keep a grip on yourself.

Did I mention the entire movie looks like a pirate transmission shot through a filter of neon New Wave ice? I can't get enough camcorder softcore reflecting off Ray-Bans, TV static sex dungeons, Japanese grimescape video gauze tourism, and long clinical takes of sad people writhing in lust!