Dank with the effluvia of a proudly unhygienic, sex-obsessed German teen, this frenetic adaptation of Charlotte Roche’s notorious 2008 best-seller is a standing dare to anyone who thinks the movies have gotten too tame. As with the novel itself, the verdict is still out on the film’s main character, Helen: an erotic libertine to be sure but not as empowered as Roche thinks she is. Flattering the material immensely, the fearless Carla Juri adds soulfulness to Helen’s misadventures, most of which stem from an intimate shaving accident and an anal lesion requiring a hospital stay.
You read that correctly: Wetlands (the title refers to exactly what your dirty mind suspects) is rife with scenes of sniffing, nibbling and spewing—it’s not for the faint of stomach. Almost as a joke, there’s a cute potential-boyfriend–slash-nurse (Christoph Letkowski), a Ghost World–like BFF (Marlen Kruse) and a stab at parental psychotrauma. None of it holds a candle to Wnendt’s candy-colored scenes of bloody-tampon swapping and blister popping. Were it not for Juri’s commitment, you’d have the most disgusting movie of the year—it still may be that but not merely.
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