There are two reasons why I don’t rewatch certain films. There are those that are so bad, I have no intention of revisiting. Then there are those occasionally brilliant films that are simply far too uncomfortable to ever want to watch again. The Catalonian Creatura (Elena Martín, 2023) is certainly the latter; a deeply discomforting and distressing exploration of female sexuality that uses horror tropes to gnaw away, and turn inside-out, concepts of shame, male violence and internalised hatred. It’s totally engaging; I’m never watching it again.
Elena Martín Gimeno (also the director, billed slightly differently) stars as Mila, a neurotic 30-something woman taking a retreat to her hometown in Catalonia with Marcel (Oriol Pla). Their relationship is being tested by their lack of physical intimacy. In an uncomfortable opening scene, they attempt to have sex, only for Mila’s insistence that Marcel stares at her throughout the process. Using a widescreen frame, but pushing right into the characters, DOP Alana Mejía González gets uncomfortably close. While little graphic details are shown, the implication and squeamishness involved with real intimacy excellently sets the stage for a litany of uneasy sexual encounters to come.
Mila suffers from a variety of nasty rashes, appearing on her legs, tummy and around her vagina. The origin of these rashes remains unexplained — even as Creatura flashes back to Mila at fifteen (Clàudia Dalmau) and five (Mila Borràs). But they serve as a handy metaphor for the perils of female sexuality; on the one hand, a beautiful thing to be explored and cultivated, on the other, a dangerous thing ready to be exploited at the hands of both men, and the self.
As Martín the star and Martín, the director, are one and the same, this allows for a close control of the film’s tone, a work of remarkable, raw vulnerability that is simply unafraid to go there. Owning many awkward conversations throughout, whether it’s with past lovers, her own parents and most especially Gerard, Mila is a woman conflicted at the very core, both physically and mentally degenerating. But the performance is a masterclass in imbuing physiological pressures within physical movements, making for a difficult, yet moving watch.
The extensive flashbacks, including the first fumbles of dating and awkward encounters at 15, aided by access to the hyper-sexual internet, as well as far more disturbing, controversial footage of Mila at five, never entirely depict the worst excesses of sexual violence either, but it’s the way that the film dances around the topic, piling high-pressure sequences on top of one another, that sustains a uniquely distressing feeling.
It’s a very good movie. But once is certainly enough.
Redmond is the editor-in-chief of Journey Into Cinema.