KISSED ** out of **** KISSED treats sexual aberration with ho-hum reverence KISSED has received much mileage from its undertaking of a most atypical subject: a woman's necrophilia. The respectable acknowledgement of female sexual desires is anathema enough, but KISSED breaks even newer ground. Yes, novelty has its rewards, but (need it be written?) those of above average filmmaking are separate and even more enduring. Beyond the subject, there is little else new or substantial here. Unfortunately, KISSED doesn't betray its literary origin. Director Lynne Stopkewich was inspired to film KISSED after reading Barbara Gowdy's short story, "We So Seldom Look On Love," from a collection of female erotica, but the inspiration is never convincingly translated to film. The film feels longer than its relatively short 80-odd minute length, and this is due partly to dialogue which aspires to be lyrical but is little more than familiar text warmed over. The metaphors involving light are uninspired and used much too frequently. One certainly shouldn't expect to exit from KISSED understanding more regarding a necrophile's motivations; KISSED treats the matter lightly and unsurprisingly. Sandra Larson (Molly Parker) explains her predilections as those of a sexual explorer looking for that "edge," and this edge looks quite like those questionable television documentaries on life-after-death experiences. Sandra's uncommon fascination emerges early. We see the young Sandra (Natasha Morley) filling all her senses when she encounters small animals, and she holds ritualized funerals for them. When she discovers that her only friend doesn't share her tastes, Sandra also discovers the loneliness inherent in her ventures. Years later, and Sandra pursues a position at the local funeral parlour, and she is a model employee - eager to learn, not prone to fainting - except for the fact that she has sex with the young male corpses. Sandra's sexual exploits aren't particularly erotic nor even eerily so, and that the viewer doesn't head for the exits during these scenes would be KISSED's main success. Stopkewich's whitewashed, cool light treatment, consistent with Parker's unerring innocence (she is easily the film's strongest point) and the cool, aloof humour sprinkled throughout KISSED, disinfects the discomfort that would accompany Sandra's actions. Sandra's fascination with death leads to some courses on embalming at college, and it is here that she meets med school dropout Matt (Peter Outerbridge). It starts off awkwardly - Matt is her first live one, after all - and gets more awkward still as Matt becomes equally fascinated by Sandra's continued necrophilia. Watching Sandra go through her motions is akin to an atheist watching mass; the firm belief in ritual is entertaining enough to watch, but actual participation would require more effort. The motions move nothing but air, and this is KISSED's central weakness; necrophilia is treated with a reverence that renders it inert of empathy. Sandra explains her experience to Matt as "glorious, overwhelming, addictive," but such copious superlatives are no explanation at all. Even more problematic is Matt's resulting interest in Sandra's continued activities, which hints more of comic self-interest and macabre jealousy (think morbid variation on penis envy) than anything else. With Sandra, we at least had her genuine, though aloof, belief as a fallback position. With knee-jerk thinking, Matt becomes childishly adamant about himself participating in Sandra's netherworldly trysts, and this story crosses over irretrievably into the unconvincing. Empathy or understanding did not seem to be Stopkewich's goals, only that we remain to watch Sandra go through her reverential motions. Stopkewich's hand is sure stylistically but the result has been sterilized of empathy. This morbid matter is made up to be neither emotionally nor intellectually engaging, and beyond this sensational novelty the airy script offers little new. KISSED is unsatisfying fare. KISSED Directed by Lynne Stopkewich. Written by Lynne Stopkewich and Angus Fraser. Adapted from the story "We So Seldom Look on Love" by Barbara Gowdy. Canada, 1996.
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