Wetlands

Remember that bathroom in Trainspotting? The one with its floor flooded with standing water and a toilet seat smeared with decades of accumulated excrement? A lavatory in the opening scene of the squirm-inducing yet remarkably affecting German film Wetlands gives that one a run for its money. But our protagonist Helen (Carla Juri), a gangly teenager with a mop of dirty blond curls and a sweet smile, doesn't just use this toilet as a perch for applying cream to alleviate her pesky hemorrhoids. No, it becomes part of Helen's quest to turn herself "into a living pussy-hygiene experiment." Spotting a pubic hair lodged in a mystery blob, she sits on the throne and gives herself a little rub.

And Helen doesn't let up from there, with subsequent experiments involving her BFF's used tampon and produce from the family fridge (she was just "borrowing" those vegetables, she assures her kid brother). Wetlands, based on the much-discussed novel of the same name by Charlotte Roche, makes no apologies for its gross-out material. But unlike so many scatalogically minded films—primarily those geared toward teenage boys—it's not just out to shock. So when a botched shaving job lands Helen in the hospital with an anal fissure (the less said, the better), Wetlands unleashes a stream of childhood flashbacks and dream sequences. Some of these prove ham-fisted in their attempts to explain Helen's obsessions with vaginal flora and bodily excretions. Might her depressive mother and hedonistic father be responsible? You don't say.

But far more successful are the scenes that pursue a narrative of self-definition. Juri makes Helen a buoyant optimist with a punk-rock streak who just happens to enjoy converting cum into chewing gum. There's an undercurrent of childlike neediness, too, particularly during her exchanges with her hunky male nurse, which takes Wetlands to greater depths—it manages "awws" amid the "ewws." The film also captures a great deal of joy, as in a wondrous tracking shot of Helen skateboarding through the hospital, gown fluttering behind her.

All this could come off as repellent or gratuitous if director David Wnendt didn't have such a firm grasp on the film's tone, and Wetlands is effervescent, funny and touching. And, well, it's got psychedelic animations of toilet-seat bacteria. Who can't get behind that?

Critic's Grade: A-

SEE IT: Wetlands opens Friday at Living Room Theaters.

WWeek 2015