Scarlet Blue

A schizophrenic woman’s experience of hypnotherapy unleashes a flood of startling images in Aurélia Mengin’s lavish cinematic poem, screening as part of Frightfest 2024. A daringly different way of looking at the illness, whose origins in this case seem to be entangled with repressed childhood memories, it begins with intensive sessions in a uterine volcanic cave and unfolds outwards from there, as psychiatrist Lecreulx (Stefano Cassetti) experiments in pursuit of a possible new treatment, and Alter (played in different states by Amélie Daure and Anne-Sophie Charron, who look very similar but have very different acting styles) tries to make sense of her life.

Mengin, who also appears in the film as Chris, a worker at an all-night garage with whom Alter embarks on an affair, had a close friend affected by schizophrenia and has drawn on that and her own experience of neurodivergence to examine what it’s like to navigate the world whilst perceiving it differently from others. There is little in the way of external narrative, with the film dominated by Alter’s perspective, and although she’s not always experiencing hallucinations or dissociation, her world is always shaped by the effect they have on her supply of information. This further complicates an already strained relationship with her mother, Rosy (Patricia Barzyk), whom she blames for keeping secrets from her – but Rosy, too, has her reasons.

In order to explore the mystery, viewers need to courage to engage with Alter’s visions and the maze they lead into, with Mengin using surrealist techniques and colour coding to map out this journey. Chris has blue hair but wears red overalls at work; Alter has a fondness for a red fur hat. They drink whisky together out of blue and red mugs, sitting on the floor in a corner of the shop; they are stained by the light from ceiling panels. Elsewhere, though, it becomes more complicated, as Alter’s hypersexual fantasies see bodies limned in silver and gold, light pouring down the lines in her face like streaks of woad. As she gets closer to the truth she seeks, another colour begins to enter the film. The beauty of her hallucinations is seductive – her neurological difference not purely negative – but the completeness that this new colour might make possible has a beauty of its own, and brings with it a dramatic change in atmosphere.

There is much more to this visually dazzling experience. Mengin makes intriguing use of reflection – in chrome and glass and water; shiny tiles and mirrors; the cling film in which Alter binds herself at one point. She also fills up the film with fascinating objects. The little caravan where Alter lives, in a shipyard, is full of psychedelic art; a horse’s skull sits on a barrel outside. Another scene takes place in a phone box where an event occurs that seems like pure excess, but even this turns out to be suffused with meaning. In still another, the shipyard is framed like a stage, the score switching from searing electronica to opera for a climactic moment.

Though there are men present in the film, the action is very much centred on the women, and challenges traditional expectations of psychiatry by giving all the real agency to the patient. Alter’s path is a difficult one and some viewers will struggle to stay focused, but if you make the effort, you will be amply rewarded.