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The shock ending recasts the idea of initiation, recapitulating much of Breillat's argument—already made tangible for being played out on the bodies of its female cast members—in a particularly visceral used books gender studies form. However disruptive, the used books gender studies gothic horror of the finale has been carefully set up from the movie's opening scene. (This is a fiction in which a number of characters are granted their wishes.) Steeped in unconscious aggression as it is, the climax is also readable as Anaďs's fantasy, but this used books gender studies possibility doubles back on itself. "Don't believe me if you don't want to" are the fat girl's final words as the image freezes on her stubborn glare. A work of bold irrationality and highly questionable taste, Fat Girl is as fascinating as it is discomfiting and as intelligent as it is primal. From first shot to last, France's foremost bad girl has made an extremely good movie—and maybe even a great one. Béla Tarr's Werckmeister Harmonies, opening Friday at Anthology, is a totally sustained immersion in the magisterially bleak, voluptuously monochromatic, undeniably beautiful universe of muddy villages and cell-like rooms that the Hungarian filmmaker has created in collaboration with reclusive novelist László Krasznahorkai.
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