Enter The Void ★★★☆☆
Gaspar Noé’s kaleidoscopic trip through neon-lit Tokyo, death, and all the existential angst in between.
Welcome to Enter the Void, where even death feels like a rave you didn’t want to go to but can’t quite leave. It’s a movie that insists you ask the Big Questions—like, what happens when we die? And, why is everyone around me having sex in flashing neon lights?
Oscar (Nathaniel Brown), an American drug dealer in Tokyo, dies during a police bust. But instead of calling it quits, he goes on a psychedelic journey beyond the grave, floating around the city, eavesdropping on his still-living friends, and revisiting key moments from his past. All of this unfolds from a trippy first-person perspective that never lets you forget you’re in a Gaspar Noé film, where the afterlife is somehow even more confusing than life itself.
At its heart, Enter the Void is a meditation on death, rebirth, and the cyclical nature of existence, sprinkled with heavy doses of DMT (because why not). Noé borrows from The Tibetan Book of the Dead for the film’s spiritual framework, but don’t expect a peaceful transition to the afterlife. This is existentialism by way of a bad trip. The film toys with the idea that death is just another form of being stuck—only now you’re stuck watching your life’s train wreck instead of living it. Noé seems less interested in comforting you than in making you squirm as you contemplate what comes after—if anything comes at all.
Visually, Noé is in full experimental mode, and the results are either hypnotic or nauseating, depending on your tolerance for strobe lights and disorienting camera angles. The entire movie is shot in a first-person POV, putting you right behind Oscar’s blinking eyelids, even after he’s dead. The postmortem scenes, where his spirit floats over Tokyo’s neon-soaked streets, resemble something between a fever dream and a video game. If you’re looking for a calm, meditative depiction of the afterlife, you’re in the wrong theater. Noé’s version is all flashing lights, distorted memories, and an endless loop of unresolved trauma.
Oscar’s sister, Linda (Paz de la Huerta), is a tragic figure with little to do except react to Oscar’s death by spiraling deeper into despair. Her performance feels a bit like a ghost itself—somewhere between haunting and vacant. But then again, subtlety isn’t the point here. Nathaniel Brown’s Oscar is more of a passive observer than an active participant, which fits with the film’s ghostly vibes. It’s less about acting prowess and more about presence—Oscar’s, Linda’s, and yours, as you endure the relentless onslaught of Noé’s vision.
At 161 minutes (or a slightly shorter 137-minute cut), the film tests your patience as much as it challenges your perceptions. After Oscar’s death, which happens surprisingly early, the movie becomes a repetitive, slow-motion descent into psychedelic abstraction. Noé’s tendency to linger in surreal visuals often stretches scenes long past their breaking point, leaving you wondering whether time itself has slowed down. If you enjoy being hypnotized by trippy colors and existential musings, this might be your jam. But if you’re expecting a brisk narrative… well, you’ll be waiting in vain.
Watching Enter the Void feels a bit like getting stuck in an elevator that’s blasting techno music while the lights flicker on and off—an experience that’s both exhausting and oddly mesmerizing. It’s the cinematic equivalent of staring too long at a lava lamp: fascinating for a while, but eventually you just want to look away. I couldn’t help but think about how Noé’s portrayal of death, as an endless loop of unresolved trauma and voyeuristic suffering, mirrors our cultural obsession with watching rather than living.
This is definitely a niche film. If you’re into experimental cinema, psychedelia, or simply enjoy watching filmmakers push the medium to its absolute limits, you’ll find plenty to chew on here. But for anyone seeking emotional depth, or even a semblance of conventional storytelling, this might feel like a slog through neon purgatory. Ultimately, Enter the Void is more of a sensory experience than a coherent story, which may be its greatest strength or its biggest flaw, depending on your tolerance for Noé’s audacity.
