DIRTY GOD (2019) FILM REVIEW

*****

15, 102 Mins

A fiery portrait of womanhood.

Movies about physical disabilities often come underpinned with a fable-like sentiment about beauty being beneath the surface. It's a trope as old as 'La Belle et La Bete' ('Beauty and the Beast') (1946) that can often be accused of sugarcoating the everyday horrors faced by sufferers.

'Dirty God' (2019) is a compelling counter-example that treats its subject with an unflinching rawness and honesty inconceivable if it were a mainstream Hollywood production. The English-language debut of Dutch film-maker Sacha Polak, this excellent film traces the story of an acid attack victim struggling to rebuild her life and - on the surface - would appear exclusive to that subject, but peel the skin back further and you'll find something for everyone in its incendiary flames.

Having suffered horrific burns in a 2003 house fire, 23 year old healthcare assistant Vicky Knight makes an outstanding big screen breakthrough as Jade whose partner left her physically scarred following an argument. Returning from hospital, she hopes to resume her old life; balancing motherhood with the natural inclination toward twentysomething rebellion. Her hopes are far from realised, however, as she endures heartbreak when her toddler daughter is terrified of her injuries with Jade's mother Lisa (Katherine Kelly) having to convince her that mummy is a "nice monster".

Walking through swanky London streets, she encounters the most horrifying abuse that will have jaws dropping at the prospect such disablism exists in this day and age. In one eye-watering scene, Jade is queueing for a ghost train with best friend Shami (Rebecca Stone) when a group of clueless women wonder whether she is "part of the ride"; assuming that Jade's disfigured face is some kind of horror film prop.

Depressed and angry, Jade turns to self-destructive habits to combat her inner-turmoil. Her worst vice comes in the form of indulging in online sex chatrooms where she exposes herself for the world to see. The film wrestles with the well-known concept that whatever goes online, stays online as Jade receives snivelling lad mag vitriol from male co-workers who regard her as an "ugly" girl trying to be hot.

When the NHS declare they can do nothing more for her, having been left with a "f**king dog's dinner", Jade takes matters into her own hands; travelling to Morocco to receive expensive and extensive plastic surgery. Yet there is a price for such a quick fix...

As a deconstruction of the sobering news headlines surrounding acid attacks and domestic violence, 'Dirty God' feels both impassioned and urgent. In terms of representation of disabled actors, it is a monumental achievement that levels out the playing field with chic confidence.

And yet, for me, the film's highest merit is its accessibility. If you were to strip 'Dirty God' of its nasty injuries, its fiery portrait of womanhood in the digital age would burn every bit as brightly. This is a film shrouded in the toxic misogyny that perniciously undercuts the UK's banterous lad culture with its catalogue of slut shaming and sexual harassment being something every woman will relate to at least once in their lifetime.

By virtue of even remotely treading on these topics, Director Polak risks being labelled a misogynist, missandrist and misanthrope which she absolutely isn't. The triumph of 'Dirty God' lies in its ability to handle such sensitive subjects with grisly realism without glorifying them in any shape or form.

With such thematic darkness clouding the screen, you could easily forgive this for looking grimly miserable. How pleasant therefore that its aesthetic should offer nothing, but great beauty. Approaching the city of London as an outsider, Polak's distinctly European visual style paints every frame with neon-lit pink hues that recall Nicholas Winding-Refn's cathartic work on the Los Angeles of 'Drive' (2011) and 'The Neon Demon' (2016). The film's glitzy sheen is symbollic of a selfie obsessed world in which the media skews our perception of what beauty looks like when it is really a greatly subjective matter.

The score too is a hypnotic piece of work; pulsing with pathos, anger and tragedy in its fluid, Depeche Mode-esque basses while feeling chillingly contemporary with the addition of songs such as Sevdaliza's 'Human' and its piercing lyrics "I am flesh, I am bones; I am skin, I am soul" providing thought-provoking commentary on female identity in the 21st century.

Lifting the drama is an arresting physical performance from Vicky Knight who fiercely establishes herself as one of Britain's best young actresses. The camera makes sure to cut systematically between close-up face shots and scenes that follow her swaggering from behind. Through simply the twinkle of an eye or a rolling gait, Knight manages to tell the story through actions rather than just action; conveying a monopoly of emotions including pleasure, ecstasy and bereavement.

In this #MeToo era, the need for yet another harrowing reminder of the political incorrectness that still reasonates in this society is questionable. How much do we want our escapist entertainment to remind us of worrying stories in the papers? If every film approached challenging subjects with the sensitivity and insight of 'Dirty God', I'd say the answer is "a lot".

​