Rafaela Sales Ross searches for the root of the ‘shock value’ in controversial Romanian satire Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn (screening at Eden Court from Fri 26 Nov).
The very first scene of Radu Jude’s political satire Bad Luck Banging or Loony porn consists of a home-recorded video of a couple having explicit, unsimulated sex. It is followed briefly by a title card that labels the movie as “a sketch for a popular film”, a fitting description of this Romanian endeavour that shows little concern about people’s inhibitions.
The tape in question is of schoolteacher Emilia (Katia Pascariu) sharing an intimate moment with her husband. The two believed the recording would stay in the private realm but are faced with the nightmarish scenario of having their privacy exposed to the world when the tape leaks after their computer is sent to a repair shop. In the following hours after the leak, Emilia tries her best to have the content removed from the internet, just to be confronted with the truth: once online, forever online.
Divided into three chapters, Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn is an inquiry into morality, hypocrisy and shame within Romanian society. On its first instalment, labelled “One way street”, director Radu Jude lays out the story, from screening the explicit tape in its entirety to following Emilia throughout the hellish day when she finds out the recording has hit the internet. The second chapter, titled “Short dictionary of anecdotes, signs and wonders”, is a magnificent visual collage, spanning from archival footage of infamous historic periods to viral videos taken during the COVID-19 pandemic. The third and final act is named “Praxis and innuendos (sitcom)” and consists of a PTA meeting turned trial, Emilia’s job left in the hands of irate parents demanding her public crucifixion.
Unsimulated sex isn’t anything new to arthouse cinema. Last year, Abdellatif Kechiche’s nearly four-hour-long Mektoub, My Love: Intermezzo, saw dozens of walkouts during its Cannes screening, “due to lengthy and graphic sexual content that included an extended unsimulated oral sex scene.” Established directors such as Lars von Trier and Gaspar Noé have also repeatedly tasted the bitter backlash that comes from featuring explicit unsimulated sex scenes in their films, with titles such as Nymphomaniac (2013) and Love (2014) frequently brought up when the squabble is reignited.
Despite the recurring controversy that surrounds the topic, cinema has long politicised the shock value of explicit sex. In Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn, Jude does so actively, cleverly employing graphic imagery to hold a mirror against his audience, attentively observing what makes people tick. During the film’s second instalment, a visual dictionary, the director selects a handful of raunchy images, from a sex worker masturbating in front of a computer (illustrating the word “camgirl) to an excerpt from a vintage porno movie (illustrating the word “pornographia”). The most shocking of images, however, are ones free from quasi-smutty elements.
As the word “rape” is shown onscreen, we are presented with an image of a young woman, her face concealed from the frame. As she stands in the middle of a field by a train line, the text says: “5% of responders say rape is justified in certain situations, such as under the influence of alcohol or drugs, if the victim dresses provocatively, or if they agreed to come to someone’s home”. The word “family” is illustrated by an image of a child with a severely bruised back, with the text stating “6 in 10 Romanian children are subject to family violence.”
These staggering statistics juxtaposed on top of faceless people exacerbate what is the true element of depravity within the film: the violence, prejudice and bias that permeate every layer of contemporary society. If unfiltered sexuality shocks more than these twisted numbers, reflected on bruised backs and crossed arms turned armours, then the question isn’t about morality - it is about humanity.
As Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn draws into its thunderous ending, what lingers is not the initial shock of its explicit content. Instead, the bitterness comes from being confronted with all that it is easier left unquestioned. This is very much a film about shock - explicit, unfiltered shock - but the source of it is much more perverted than a couple of people enjoying a consensual sexual encounter.
This blog was written by:
With support of the BFI Film Audience Network, awarding funds from the National Lottery.
