It is the director rummaging through his past loves and crafting a story that is a narcissistic parade of all things Noé with (not so sly) asides (to wit: Murphy keeps drugs in a VHS case for I Stand Alone; there is a model of the Love Hotel from Enter the Void in his apartment; Noé shows up in a cameo as one of Electra's ex-boyfriends, a pretentious art dealer billed as Aaron Pages (anagrams!)).
We can’t print the depravities in “I Stand Alone,” “Irreversible” and “Enter the Void,” but the big shocks in “Love” are more goofy, couldn’t-resist, including two separate cases where Glusman’s member stares right at us and shoots out the camera lens.
He did it with graphic violence in I Stand Alone (1998), with extreme sexual torture in Irréversible (2002), and with mind-melting, sick-making visuals in Enter the Void (2009).
Whereas Noe over-amplified his own sex- and violence-related fantasies in his three previous features (beginning with the bloody “I Stand Alone”), here, the helmer strips away such hyperbole to reveal his naked soul.
Noé is addicted to self-references: Murphy—who, like the Argentinean-born director, came to Paris for film school, not speaking a word of French—stashes drugs in a VHS case for Noé’s debut, I Stand Alone , and has a scale model of one of the fantasy buildings from Enter The Void; in framing scenes that show him slightly older, he has a young son named Gaspar.
Ya sea por su obsesión con lo explícito (la violencia, el sexo o el drama) o los argumentos que sostienen sus películas, desde la formidable y violenta I Stand Alone, su ópera prima, el nombre del director argentino se ha caracterizado por acompañar retratos ultra violentos de realidades sórdidas francesas.