The Girlfriend Experience

When is a film not a film? When its 77 minutes long, that’s when. We can put up with this sort of thing from the animation sector where some poor devils toil on sketchpads and computers for years on end to produce some lovely artefact like 9. But when it comes to live action anything under the 80 mark is a gyp. It certainly has no business making up the numbers at a multiplex near you without a supporting bill. Soderbergh has cited Michelangelo Antonioni’s Red Desert and Ingmar Bergman’s Cries and Whispers as influences; you’ll permit us to stifle a snooty arthouse snigger. (This is an interesting low key exercise, but Cries and Whispers!?) At the cold heart of this intriguing experimental drama, Chelsea/Christine (played by adult film star, Sasha Grey) is an escort who offers the Girlfriend Experience, by playing house – one date at a time – to various clients. The recession is of great concern to her and her increasingly broke Toms, thus granting Irish audiences a rare opportunity to hear assorted whining and ill-informed drivel about economic downturn. Her main squeeze, Chris (Santos), a personal trainer, is also struggling in this regard. Inevitably, as with all onscreen hookers before her, Cheslea’s work starts to come between them. We can assume that a director of Mr. Soderbergh’s calibre is far too clever to fall for the lures of Raunch Culture; this isn’t his contribution to making the sex industry seem cosy and mainstream. What looks like gimmicky casting furthers the film’s radiant dread, the sense of unease created by watching Chelsea and, crucially, her other half, pimp their bodies for survival. But really, the director, fresh from the set of Che, is primarily interested in the elephant in the room; deprivation for these folks, still comes with a suite in Vegas. It’s a good punch-line even if it arrives so soon after the opening credits.