"Phallocentric" fiction comes to mind when this bizarre Mexican horror film, The Untamed, opens with Veronica (Ruth Ramos) masturbating or not; in a short while Ale (Simone Bucio) has a snake-like creature leaving her vagina. Well, this is like no other alien you have ever seen, and its power to make sexually crazy more than one object of its affection propels a little sci-fi into Freudland and for a long time into the audience's imagination, not soon to leave.
Mexican auteur Amat Escalante has crafted an odd drama about frustrated young adults, one of whom, Angel (Jesus Meza), is having an affair with Ale's brother. Angel, of course, acts like a macho homophobe when he isn't either. He's a coward tormented by his closeted world.
But have no fear, for your tentacled alien, housed in the dark woods by a troubled couple, can bring pleasure and destruction when the situation suits. Because this giant phallus is addictive, the victims come back for more until it all isn't safe anymore.
If you long for philosophical ruminations, such as Rod Serling might give at the end of a Twilight Zone segment, forget it. So deeply is the passion of the players buried in their primitive sexual desires, we enter a spiritual realm that despite the octopus-like alien is a figurative representation of repression and liberation and not easily explained.
After all, the rapture of the enraptured is depicted as if a python had coiled its victim in readiness for a very big feast. As in life itself, the sway of sexuality can be underestimated but never avoided. The Untamed proves in a figurative way what we all knew from the nuns, namely, sex is a killer.
Mexican auteur Amat Escalante has crafted an odd drama about frustrated young adults, one of whom, Angel (Jesus Meza), is having an affair with Ale's brother. Angel, of course, acts like a macho homophobe when he isn't either. He's a coward tormented by his closeted world.
But have no fear, for your tentacled alien, housed in the dark woods by a troubled couple, can bring pleasure and destruction when the situation suits. Because this giant phallus is addictive, the victims come back for more until it all isn't safe anymore.
If you long for philosophical ruminations, such as Rod Serling might give at the end of a Twilight Zone segment, forget it. So deeply is the passion of the players buried in their primitive sexual desires, we enter a spiritual realm that despite the octopus-like alien is a figurative representation of repression and liberation and not easily explained.
After all, the rapture of the enraptured is depicted as if a python had coiled its victim in readiness for a very big feast. As in life itself, the sway of sexuality can be underestimated but never avoided. The Untamed proves in a figurative way what we all knew from the nuns, namely, sex is a killer.