Rating: NR | Runtime: 86 minutes
Release Date: May 4th, 2023 (Germany) / August 25th, 2023 (USA)
Studio: Edition Salzgeber / Salzgeber & Company Medien / Oscilloscope
Director(s): Ann Oren
Writer(s): Thais Guisasola & Ann Oren

Where is my sound?

Visual artist Ann Oren’s debut feature film Piaffe is more about experience than narrative. A plot exists wherein the introverted Eva (Simone Bucio) loses herself to the reluctant desire to succeed at taking her sibling’s place as foley artist on a pharmaceutical commercial once they (Simon Jaikiriuma Paetau’s Zara) have a nervous breakdown. But that motivation is less the point than scaffolding upon which Eva’s sexual awakening balances. It’s through this assignment that she’s forced to study horses (the animal whose sounds she’s tasked to artificially recreate) and through partially transforming into one that she escapes her shell.

Oren co-writes with Thais Guisasola to also bring a botanist into Eva’s life. First introduced as a frequent patron of the photographic carousel where she works to examine its moving slides of ferns, a blurring of lines commences as the inherent eroticism he feels watching those plants unfurl soon bleeds into the interspecies nature of Eva’s metamorphosis. Once a new organ begins protruding from her tail bone and subsequently grows hair, she becomes more outgoing. More curious. And having seen his unique proclivities in action, she approaches him and ultimately sparks a submissive psychosexual relationship in the process.

It’s an evolutionary leap for Eva since she has a submissive relationship with everyone in her life. Her passion to get the foley work correct comes from Zara’s boss yelling at her. Interactions with Zara always shine them in the light of importance with her in a position to serve. And Zara’s nurse perpetually toys with her by wielding the power Eva’s meekness grants. It’s different with Novak (Sebastian Rudolph). This instance of submission hinges on her desires. She’s in control when with him. She lets him tie her up like his ferns and groom her tail. Eva is becoming aware of a world that excites her. One whose previous rigidly binary structure had always left her alone.

Oren embraces Eva’s duality pre-tail and post-tail by allowing her to gain experience and expertise along the journey. And as Eva becomes more and more empowered, a transposition with Zara arrives. So many scenes feel like hallucinations as result—enough to have me question whether Zara was ever real and not a manifestation of who Eva was or could become. It’s like the nervous breakdown split the character in two with the tail providing a new road forward that’s neither Zara nor Eva. She’s wading through the horror of being on her own only to find there’s a better way. Just as Eva is one extreme, Zara is the other. And only together can they be their best and strongest self.

But that’s just me. Piaffe is the type of film that demands interpretation as it comments on control, gender, and sexuality by putting all living creatures (plant, animal, and human) on even footing. It can be very slow and is always weird in the absurdness of the sensorial fetishes that result, but you cannot deny its singular passion to provoke, arouse, and entertain. I really enjoyed the funnier moments (Lea Draeger is dryly hilarious as Zara’s nurse) that contrast the quiet silences and deafening synth beats of Eva’s tumultuous adventure. They give the audience the energy needed to push through when attention begins to wane.

---

Simone Bucio in PIAFFE; courtesy of Oscilloscope.