Wetlands

Overview

Memorable moments in David Wnendt's Wetlands include, but are not limited to: the swapping of home-made tampons, the use of an avocado seed as a masturbatory aid, multiple self-inflicted rectal injuries and an extended sequence of four men ejaculating onto a pizza, in 300-style slow-motion, all to the strains of Strauss' Blue Danube. If any of that sounds appealing, read on.

An adaptation of Charlotte's Roche's controversial (and highly successful) 2008 novel of the same name, Wetlands concerns the escapades of 18-year-old Helen Memel — played with infectious, smart-alecky charm by newcomer Carla Juri. And boy, do we mean infectious. Proudly describing herself as a "living pussy hygiene experiment", Helen abhors personal cleanliness, and believes that the unique musk that emanates from her nether regions makes her impossible for men to resist.

Early on in the film, an unfortunately anal shaving accident lands Helen in the hospital. Although annoyed at being bed-ridden, our heroine finds a silver lining in realising that the incident represents the perfect chance of getting her divorced parents in the same room together — at which point she's positive sparks will fly. In the meantime, she's perfectly content to flirt with her handsome nurse Robin (Christoph Letkowski) and reminisce about her various sexual and scatological adventures.

There's no skirting around it: Wetlands is gross. But that certainly doesn't mean that it isn't entertaining. From as early as the opening credit sequence — a Fight Club-inspired tour through the untamed ecosystem of a pube on a public toilet seat — Wnendt's direction is loaded with energy and style. The soundtrack — a mix of German rock and pop music — has a similarly upbeat rhythm, and suits Helen's rebellious outlook to a tee.

Indeed, while her behaviour will frequently have you hiding behind your hands, Helen's unshakably non-conformist attitude makes her an easy protagonist to like. As already mentioned, Juri's performance is terrific, while Letkowski is adorable as her hunky but mild-mannered beau. There's something delightfully twisted about the fact that Wetlands ends up boiling down to what is basically a standard girl-meets-boy story arc. Except that instead of chocolates and flowers, the key to Helen's heart are her own surgically removed haemorrhoids in a jar.

Thankfully, whenever the film starts threatening to get romantic or, God forbid, sensual, Wnendt pulls the rug out with another revolting X-rated moment, reminding us just how unappealing the human body can be. Which is, of course, entirely the point. As Helen succinctly puts it, if you think bodily fluids are gross, you should just forget about sex altogether. Believe it not, Wetlands ends up making some pretty salient points about both society's unreasonable expectations of female beauty, as well as the unfair double standards surrounding sex. That it does so while squeezing in a POV close-up of someone applying ointment to their own asshole just makes it that much harder to ignore.