The humdrum nature of modern life for many people can be horrific. Day in, day out, the slow crushing weight of monotony and the everyday bullshit grinding us down…hell. Similarly, the alienation that is often coupled with this relentless grinding wheel destroys us even further, annihilating our passions and turning us into drab cutouts of people. Angus Silver’s Insectacy is a steamy, melancholy deep dive into the idea that, in the words of Junior Soprano, you should find your pleasures where you can. Even if those pleasures are a bit…buggy.
Sadie feels like she’s drowning. In her work, in her social obligations, in life in general. Despite being surrounded by people, crowded in by them at times, she feels utterly alone. She doesn’t know what she wants out of all of this except that she wants more. Her only respite is masturbating to smutty audiobooks and the unsettling fetish of crushing insects as she reaches climax. One day, she takes this little thing of hers a step further, and suddenly the world seems to make a little more sense and feel a little bit brighter, and soon Sadie is going to further lengths to try and keep that flame burning in an otherwise increasingly dull world.
This film is powerfully sensual. Silver depicts a world where talk of sex is blasé and rout, almost dull, with characters discussing their sex lives the way many discuss what they had for dinner last night. Contrast this with Sadie, who externally comes off as somewhat meek and withdrawn but internally yearns not merely to fuck and be fucked but instead to be wholly consumed. Whether she means literally or metaphorically is beside the point: Silver makes it clear Sadie is a deeply passionate individual in an otherwise dispassionate world, something that makes connection near impossible for her. The result is a film that is somehow simultaneously achingly erotic and almost tear-inducingly sad; indeed, Tirion Healy at times evokes an almost paternalistic urge to simply give her a hug and ask how she’s doing instead of trying to sleep with her. And therein lies the genius of Silver’s storytelling; I would argue that the end of the day it’s connection that Sadie is looking for and not merely sex. Sex is simply an avenue to that for her.
I was reminded of David Cronenberg’s Crash at times, with characters engaging in seemingly bizarre behavior to get what they want, or even Shinya Tsukamoto’s Tetsuo: The Iron Man on the more grotesque end of things. The Tsukamoto comparison felt especially strong when Sadie decides to take things to the next level, calling to mind the opening scene of Tetsuo in which a character, in a fit of ecstasy, jams a length of rebar into a wound in his leg on purpose. It harkens back to the theme of doing anything to feel something in a world that seems built upon the senseless and bland instead of the sensual and spicy.
Feeling almost like a blend of Argento and Jodorowsky visually, the film is presented through a lovely, gauzy grain that makes even the mundane seem dreamy and surreal. Tirion Healy as Sadie is an absolute powerhouse to watch in this film. Watching her drift dreamily through her day amongst the hoi polloi who are all unaware she’s listening to tastefully smutty audiobooks feels voyeuristic and kind of dirty, like we’re in on some saucy secret that the rest of the world isn’t. She comes off as confident but a little sad, strong but a little vulnerable. The mousy exterior she creates for Sadie doesn’t feel put on or insincere, but instead like a natural reaction to a world she doesn’t understand and honestly might not even belong in.
Insectacy isn’t for the squeamish. Or,put more bluntly, it’s not for the weak. It’s a bit gross and transgressive but not unnecessarily so. At no point does it feel like it’s being shocking for the sake of being shocking. Ultimately, it’s a poignant examination the human desire for connection and an unapologetic exercise in authenticity.
