Vortex

And Parents Outside Of Prison

What is high art, what is low art? The provocative filmmaker Gaspar Noe, who consistently pushes the boundaries of the art form and of good taste, probably earned his film festival credentials by virtue of his native tongue (French). He’s extending a fig leaf in “Vortex” to the great Dario Argento, obviously a key influence, and obviously a legend who wasn’t granted the respect due to a different era’s attitude towards horror. Argento was always considered low art by the critics and festival people, but what do the (remaining, I guess) snobs do when he’s acting in an arthouse movie?

Does Dario Argento need an introduction? I’d like to think I write up to my readers, I throw a lot out there for the non-cinephiles but in a way in which they can catch up. Still, you never can tell – Dario Argento is a household name in my head, but it’s not like there’s been an Argento revival in the last twenty years beyond fancy DVD releases. The father of the giallo, Argento’s been making horror movies for decades (I’m reviewing one of his newer ones for this substack eventually!). Responsible for the look and feel of Italian thrillers for decades, Argento is a Hitchcock disciple who had the freedom, and desire, to be more explicit, and he’s used this to craft an unforgettable filmography of scare classics. A few years back, Luca Guadagnino remade Argento’s greatest accomplishment. For movie reasons, I applaud the decision to make a film that tries to wipe the ledger of Argento’s earlier effort and create something new. For sentimental reasons, I do not.

It’s an intriguing choice that Noe pegged Argento to act in this film, a horrifying and real account of the difficulties of dementia. Despite his reputation as a cinematic legend, Argento has primarily appeared in cameos, not lead roles. He was 81 when he shot this film – a little late to start a leading man, Dario! There’s a more delicate way of putting this, but Noe is most certainly using Argento less as an actor and more of a prop. This is Noe’s M.O. – actors as blunt objects.

Argento stars alongside Francoise Lebrun as an elderly couple in France. Both of them are suffering in minute ways. She’s slowly falling in and out of dementia, her thinking and memory now foggier, more troubled. While he continues to work on a new book, he’s in and out of hospitals with a heart condition. As we’re meeting these people, it almost feels like they’re the movie’s ticking clocks. One, or both, will not make it to the end.

The movie cruelly, but maybe not inaccurately, magnifies this by splitting the screen in two. Hardcore horror fans might recognize this as Duo-Vision from “Wicked, Wicked” (oh, do see this if you haven’t). Whereas that film took a comic tact towards the idea of bodies dropping, here, it multiplies the tragedy, as we’re often seeing the struggles of husband and wife. She might be tossing important medication into the toilet for no earthly reason just as he’s taken a knee at the table, his breath caught in his throat. Your eyes dart back and forth to see which side of the screen is revealing the most important information, but at certain points, it’s uncertain as to how your eyes must manage seeing both tragedies unfurl.

The two have an adult son, played by Alex Lutz. We see him early on hoping to reason with his stubborn father, hoping how he might convince the two to move to more structured, monitored housing that can accommodate their problems. Argento, fiercely, defends his ability to protect his ailing wife, as if dementia was a situation that can be managed and not an unstoppable deterioration. However, we learn that Lutz isn’t making this plea necessarily because he doubts his own father, but because he doubts himself. He’s the one person his parents will need to help them, but he can’t manage his own addiction to dropping acid. How can he take care of two parents when he can’t even take care of himself and his own child? When health fails, it doesn’t wait for you to get your life in order first.

“Vortex” is, elementally, a horror movie. The loss of one’s mind is a nightmare for everyone. But what if you suddenly can’t maintain your bearings, and the ones you trust the most can’t be there to set you straight? What would stop you from walking into traffic, or forgetting the sink is on? Imagine trying to cook through a brain fog, not realizing what ingredients you need, and misunderstanding how your stove is or isn’t working? “Vortex” traps you not only in that scenario, but also the one of an observer, helpless against the ravages of the mind, wanting to do everything to help and being unable to. Ultimately, Noe seems like he’s interested in the idea of life as temporary, just another transitional stage. His approach reminds you, this too shall pass. His approach also reminds you, it will be the most you’ve ever hurt.

I struggled with my parents while I was in prison. I was missing what I expected to be some of the last years of their lives. Every night, I stayed up wondering if this was the night something awful would happen to them. And I wouldn’t be there to help them, and the prison would take days to inform me something tragic had occurred. I remember during COVID, when we were all moved to a wing in our prison with cells. A guy across the hall who was on the streets months ago stood up as an officer approached his door. The officer told him, “Unfortunately, I’ve just heard your father died. Don’t do anything crazy, okay?” And then he walked away.

I was aggravated with my folks as I endured my sentence. My mother believed in magical thinking – instead of sending appeals and filing paperwork with the courts to challenge my sentence, which she claimed she wanted to do, instead she wrote personal letters to Presidents Obama and Trump. My father urged me to stay out of trouble and do what I was told because he told me my captors, “were just thinking about their pensions.” I don’t think they were thinking about their pensions when they extended my sentence for a month on transparently false charges, and I don’t think they were thinking about their pensions when they denied me surgery for a broken jaw for a couple of weeks. Obviously we were not on the same page about this.

When I got out, my father was clearly getting foggy in his head, struggling to retain memories and hold conversations. During that time, my mother survived a near-fatal stroke. While she retained her full health, my father got worse. One day, my mother put him on the phone and he rambled nonsensically, to the point where I realized I would never again have an actual conversation with my father. The eight and a half years spent in prison were eight and a half years of my mother and father at full health. They didn’t get to spend that time with their son. I lost them when I went to prison. When I got out, I lost one of them again. I have no children of my own. I am glad they will not have to experience what I did.