Herutâ sukerutâ

Lilico is a bad seed, a sadistic supermodel and the darling of all Japan who has turned herself into, as another character from the movie puts it, "a machine for the processing of desire…" Problem is that all her plastic surgery is slowly necrotizing her flesh, and as she slides down the bat pole into oblivion she drags everyone with her, including her female assistant (whom she sexually assaults) and the foot soldiers she dispatches to throw acid in the faces of other models.

In the hands of Sion Sono or David Cronenberg, this material would have been rich and nuanced. What begs to be explored is that central notion of the desire machine. Lilico's primary dilemma is everybody's – how do we constitute ourselves as subjects in this period of late-stage, global capitalism, where we exist in a state of constant flux between two poles: self-commodification and compulsive consumerism? The problem is hinted at, but never fleshed out: the human body is no longer a space in which people realize themselves politically, creatively, erotically, or spiritually; rather, the body has become ancillary to the functioning of a global market economy, a thing that is used by and subservient to ideology.

In the end, Helter Skelter is a pretty-looking mess, which isn't surprising because that's often the result when fashion photographers, in this case Mika Ninagawa, take a stab at directing feature films. Ambitious, but a mess.