Claude Faraldo's Themroc (1973)

If the director Claude Faraldo is remembered for anything it's for the obscure Themroc (1973), an anarchist vision of the destruction of the capitalist system where consumerism rules. And to start, of course, work is very much a part of this system, in which people are defined by what they do for a living. The protagonist Themroc lives in an apartment with his elderly mother (Jeanne Herviale) and his sister (Béatrice Romand), whose naked body he gloats on while she's asleep. He goes to work as a house painter with his friend by bicycle, then bus, then métro, and walking out of the métro the narrative is frequently interrupted by shots of the events of his day so far: his thoughts as he follows the crowd.

With the exception of a few words on the screen designating the unnamed mother, sister and copain, etc. only a pretend language is spoken: sounds which resemble meaningful words are made, but have no meaning apart from the manner in which they're expressed. Did I hear 'allez' and 'nada'? No, they were no doubt purely coincidental sounds. Themroc tends to use grunting, animal-like noises of the stereotypical caveman, but then he comes to live in a kind of cave and has the strength of a horse: he can lift a car, and carry two policemen at once.

At his workplace, in Club Med 'gentil organisateur' fashion, we have 'gentil gardien' 'gentil sous directeur', and so on. Painting window frames Themroc stumbles upon a manager caressing this secretary, who then opens the window to protest but hits Themroc's nose which bleeds profusely. But when Themroc goes to the gentil directeur he's given the sack. That's when he really loses it. Returning home he builds himself into a room by cementing himself by breeze blocks he's taken from a building site, staving in the window, its frame and the wall attached to it and throws all the material objects out of it and onto the street.

His loving sister makes her way up to the room, or cave, by a rope ladder, and they have sex: Faraldo is obviously trying to break as many taboos as possible in this film. Meanwhile the neighbour opposite (Francesca Romana Coluzzi) samples Themroc's sexual goods: the revolutionary ethos is spreading. The woman lives with her rather timid partner (Coluche in a tie, holding onto a treasured ornament) and their daughter(?) played by the thumb-sucking Miou-Miou. Before long they too have a no wall and all their material possessions (apart from the precious ornament) are out in the street.

The noise of course attracts the police, who try to climb the rope ladder but are knocked back by Themroc, then they try to smoke them out but don't succeed. A mason (Patrick Dewaere) tries to fill in the hole where there's no wall, but Themroc gently plays with him as he works, and with his sister they take his shirt off and stroke his body, until in the end they lure him in, he's won over to the revolutionary cause and knocks his work down again.

Themroc avoids an encounter with the police by sneaking out at night, drinking gutter water rather like an animal (why bother with the trappings of civilisation?) and bags two cops, leading to the female neighbour opposite to call him 'Rockthem'. Both families feast on the flesh of the police, of course.

And the whole business ends in glorious chaos, another neighbour smashing his car, his pride and joy that he's been polishing throughout the film. It seems the whole street almost is won over to animal anarchy as they listen enraptured to the orgasmic wails and howls from Themroc's cave, the Miou-Miou character still sucking her thumb and probably masturbating.

Only ten days have passed this year, but I think it'll be a while before I see a more devastating film than this. And I'll certainly never forget it.