Written and directed by Olivier Assayas
Starring Connie Nielsen, Chloe Sevigny, Gina Gershon, Charles Berling, and Dominique Reymond
Language: French, English
Rated R (uncut version also available) for language, adult themes, images of pornography and torture, violence, and a scene of sexual assault
Runtime: 2 hours 9 minutes
In theaters and some virtual cinemas

by Audrey Callerstrom, Staff Writer

The deceptively titled Demonlover, the 2002 film from French writer/director Olivier Assayas (Clouds of Sils Maria) is getting a 2K restoration and re-release from Janus Films. Originally premiering at the 2002 Sundance Film Festival, Demonlover was met with mixed reviews. Some praised its commentary on how porn, violence in the news, and violent video games led to a global desensitization. Others, like Roger Ebert, in his two-star review, said "Demonlover is so in love with its visuals and cockeyed plot that it forgets to think about the implications.”

Demonlover is uneven, confusing, and at times quite boring, especially the film’s first half. The title comes from the name of a fictional American company that markets porn. Diane (Connie Nielsen, who had already starred in Gladiator by this point) is working with (and perhaps infiltrating) French company Volf Corporation as it intends to expand and buy porn industries in other markets, including America (Demonlover) and Japan (an anime studio). This begins with negotiations between Volf and the anime studio that’s growing into producing (at the time, revolutionary) 3D pornographic content. On this trip, Diane and Hervé (Charles Berling) observe manga porn with the same detachment as watching someone assemble a desk. Also accompanying them is assistant/secretary Elise (Chloe Sevigny, speaking impeccable French), who is bitter having to work with Diane after her mentor Karen (Dominique Reymond) had to exit the project after being suspiciously attacked at an airport.

The first hour follows the core team as they navigate the deal with the Tokyo animation studio. I anticipate that the version I watched was the “R” version, as certain portions of the anime porn scenes (there are few) are pixelated. These negotiation scenes feel a little too true to corporate life. People gathering around tables, talking about markets, reviewing agreements, establishing parameters. Things don’t really jump-start until scene stealer Gina Gershon arrives on the scene, as Demonlover exec Elaine. In true early 2000s fashion, Elaine shows up in low-rise pleather studded pants and a crop top with a snarky phrase (in this case, it says “I <3 GOSSIP”). Gershon shows up to chew some scenery, but her time on screen is brief. The latter half of the film pivots from droll legal conversations about merging companies into a tale of corporate espionage, as the nature of Diane’s intentions are revealed and she pays the price.

Later scenes between Nielsen and Sevigny crackle, but then they immediately separate. The final scenes end up feeling lost, tacked-on from a different film. It’s intriguing how disorienting they are, but unclear how we got there. Where was that energy in the film’s first hour? Additionally, the 2K restoration ends up looking very flat. The film still has a blue-ish, fuzzy, washed-out look to it. The restoration, such that it was, still creates a final product that looks like a VHS tape.

Let’s talk about some things that the film does well. Do you remember in Juno when Juno tells Jason Bateman that she listened to Sonic Youth and that it’s “just noise?” Sonic Youth provided the original music for the film. Here the “noise” sound is a good fit for tense scenes, such as when Diane unearths a “dark web” extension of Demonlover, called Hell Fire Club. Scenes of torture are scored by what sounds like the electronic shrieks of static and pain.

Demonlover’s watchability hinges entirely on Nielsen, who is in nearly every scene. Lanky, Diane dresses in black, complete with her angled black haircut. She adapts well to a character that is sexy, mysterious and manipulative. But we’re left with a sense of moral ambiguity about Diane. We don’t think she is bad, in spite of her ill intentions to disrupt Volf Corporation. But by the end, the assumption is that we had a stake in her character the entire time, which we don’t, because we don’t know her or ever see her vulnerabilities. To his credit, Assayas seems entirely disinterested in any of the men in his film. I would say this is probably true of many of his films. Company owner Volf (Jean-Baptiste Malartre) is only present in the opening scene, and thereafter by name only. And Berling as Hervé is a foolish, entitled brute. So we have three strong performers–Nielsen, Sevigny, and Gershon, all playing undeveloped characters. In one of the film’s only attempts at comedy, we witness Elise, tending to an unconscious and drugged Diane, having a routine phone call with her husband about the babysitter. These three actresses would have been better served in a story of espionage and betrayal without the heavy-handed, by then already outdated message that the omnipresence of violence and porn is turning us into unaffected emotionless zombies.