Open up wide. Relax your throat. Choke.
Nearing the 10-year anniversary of Fight Club, film kids and critics alike have had many a debate on why it's taken so long for another Chuck Palahniuk novel to find its way on film and which one of his dark, dirty, sex-fused mind trips it would be.
Finally quelling the arousal, Choke arrived in art houses and Dipson theaters across the nation. The question isn't whether or not it's as good as Fight Club, but whether or not it's memorable enough to stand in the wake of one of the most ground-breaking films of the last decade. Unsurprisingly, Choke can't handle the pressure or girth, but does offer a noble attempt.
The film revolves around choke artist Victor Mancini (Sam Rockwell, Woman in Burka), a med school dropout and sex-obsessed history re-enactor who romps between the sheets, stalls, and barn doors. Living a life of uncertainty and arousal, Mancini spends his time searching for answers and answering to the never-ending desire betwixt his legs.
Below the prominence of sex-themed humor and rehabilitation lies a subplot of Mancini's Alzheimer's-stricken mother and not only the emotional toll it takes on him, but the difficulty in uncovering the past from a woman who can't remember who she's talking to.
Rockwell delivers a memorable performance as Mancini, serving up an emotional disconnect that's both gripping and commendable. As he pretends to choke on his food and stumbles around searching for loving arms to save and embrace him, Rockwell latches onto the viewer, showing how desperately we all crave love and attention, albeit to an extreme.
The film's grainy cinematography is straight out of the '70s - setting a vibe that's so dingy and sexual that one almost expects John Holmes to appear at any minute and show Rockwell who the real leading role belongs to.
As Mancini searches for the blissful nothing of post orgasm, it becomes apparent that the story isn't as much a study of sexuality, but finding something more. In this regard, veteran actor Clark Gregg (Iron Man) soars in his directorial debut.
Adding to the acting endearment of Rockwell are Anjelica Houston (Spirit of the Forest) and Brad William Henke (Altered), who play Victor's cold, separatist mother and best friend with an insatiable desire to masturbate, respectively. And when the two meet, remarkably uncomfortable hilarity ensues. And speaking of uncomfortable, look for the scene involving Mancini and the missing anal bead.
The problem with the film lies within its revelation. With a twist that doesn't really answer anything and an ending that takes us directly to stage one, it feels as if Choke flirts, teases and gropes viewers just to stop before climax, leaving them high, hard and dry.
Whether or not this was Gregg's intent, it's this unfulfillment that overshadows a dark, comedic gem and leaves a bitter, salty taste in your mouth.
And drizzled on top of a well-acted, quirky cinematic study, that's more than difficult to swallow.
Photo: Courtesy of Laron Fomby
