[Film Review] I Love Snuff (1995)

*This review contains descriptions of graphic grotesquerie, sexual violence, and all-around disturbing elements. Reader beware.

Sometimes I wonder, as I sit watching movies like Jean-Louis Costes and Yves Pierog’s 1995 extremely nasty I Love Snuff, what the fuck is wrong with people? But then, if I asked that of others for making movies like I Love Snuff, then I’d have to ask myself the same thing about, well…myself for watching it. And I could do that, but I’d rather just talk a bit about this sadomasochistic, feces-obsessed nightmare of a movie instead. 

I Love Snuff follows the exploits of a sadist mistress and her masochist boy toy as they give Pink Flamingo’s Divine and the Marbles a run for their shit-stained money. The movie opens on a close-up shot of a flaccid penis desperately attempting to shove itself into a gaping vagina while the couple on the other end of the genitals scream at each other for not being able fuck. From there we’re introduced to the comparatively innocent act of another couple, the mistress and her submissive, as she whips him in their basement dungeon. 

The thin plot is kicked-off with the reveal that the mistress is behind on her bills, leading her to dress the man up in a frock, stick a tampon up his ass, and take him to the canal, where he is meant to flounce around like a “pretty girl” until a man pays him to have sex. This is not before the man is forced to act like a dog and defecate directly over the camera. Not a joke, and not practical effects, nearly everything in this film is unsimulated, unfortunately, save the torture scenes, or at least we can hope that’s the case. 

After the submissive is raped by a man hiding in a tree, he and his mistress kidnap their passing neighbour, Rose, the woman from the opening scene, and take her back to their dungeon. The mistress videotapes the escalating torture of Rose, all the while blackmailing her husband who has found an uncontrollable sexual arousal to his wife’s torment. He refuses to pay the ransom, forcing the couple to continue delivering videotapes, becoming more horrific until Rose’s fate is enacted, culminating in a chaotic and sexually excessive final montage. Suffice to say, there’s an uncomfortable amount of excrement, semen, vomit, and urine flowing through almost every scene. 

I Love Snuff is the kind of movie that one may watch to check off their Extreme Horror iceberg list. It isn’t fun, it isn’t smart, there’s no satirical bend, and no greater message hidden in the folds of the butt cracks on screen. I was grateful for the 51-minute runtime, because it quickly became monotonous and the incessant screaming annoying. The deranged actions on the screen are blended uncomfortably with frantic ADR, a horrible score of plinking pianos, and what sounds like the squeals of seagulls. The VHS recording offers a real time capsule, reminiscent of those late nights with friends trying to discern naked body parts in Scramblevision. 

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The movie is dirty, scummy, kind of racist (pretty sure there’s an early scene of another woman playing Rose in blackface), homophobic, and really has no redeeming qualities aside from a few funny moments. A changing of dildo sizes mid-scene to accommodate the actor whose body they would occupy is a rare act of kindness shown to the actor upon whom the worst atrocities are inflicted. Perhaps there is a message that could be extracted from the muck about the dangers of hardcore pornography and the insidious creeping need for more extreme content to satisfy sexual desires once that door is opened. But to be honest, searching for a message feels desperate and unnecessary. I Love Snuff is what it is, a French extreme movie (not French Extremity) consisting of a stream of fucked up scenes. If you’ve been working on your list, you might as well give it a go. If you don’t like feeling dirty, skip it. 

Rating based on an extremity score 

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