Streamlined | Her Smell: Elisabeth Moss on song in a blistering portrait of addiction

The bazillion streaming services, now available in India, have catalogues that run the gamut from Grade-A to middling to unwatchable. With Streamlined, we plumb the depths to unearth hidden gems that instil enough enthusiasm to want to pass on the recommendation. Spending two hours in the company of a riot grrrl rockstar, who is a raving narcissist, prone to violent mood swings, and unbearable to be around, may not be everyone’s idea of a good time at the movies. But for those with a high threshold for discomfort, Alex Ross Perry ’s mercurial, pulse-pounding, tonic Her Smell is just about as good as movies can get. The sheer unpleasantness is its draw. The stress is so relentless in the first hour or so of this anxiety attack of a movie, it must come with a trigger warning. Becky Something, the kohl-eyed, blonde-haired, drugged-out frontwoman of punk trio Something She, is in a free fall. Yet, you can’t look away, as the tour de force from Elisabeth Moss ensures this is not an exercise in empty masochism. Between Becky’s fits of anger and anguish, Moss leaves nothing in the tank. It is an acting masterclass of unbridled energy with episodic surges into emotional explosions. As Becky bounds in and out of the studio and backstage rooms on tour, we watch a woman struggling to face her inner demons and keep her worst impulses in check. Her inability to consider the needs of fellow band members, loved ones, or really anyone besides her own supplies the film a tension that rarely lets up. The film sounds a siren call of addiction that builds in its visceral intensity to a point where the viewer risks getting contact high.

The atmosphere Perry creates only reinforces the effect. DP Sean Price Williams’ burnished camerawork pulls us deeper into Becky’s whirlwind of drama. When the handheld camera follows her around the hallways, the walls appear to close in. The close-ups get close enough to live up to the title’s sensory promise. When Moss isn’t launching into delirious monologues, voices scream over each other, jockeying for attention. The discordant sound mixing adds to the chaos. So, when silence comes, it comes as sweet relief. And when Becky’s redemption comes, the reward tastes sweeter, as we re-enter our world, thankful that our lives are perhaps less nerve-racking. While most stories about musicians, fictional or otherwise, tend to chronicle their rise, fall and (sometimes) resurgence, Her Smell gives us a close-up on a band on its last legs. Something She, in their prime, sold out whole stadiums. Now, as their fame wanes, internal crises waxes like a malignant tumour. Perry splits the film into five extended scenes that play like movements in a symphony, each with their own emotional register. The first three takes us behind the scenes of Becky’s drug-induced spiral and the psychological havoc it wreaks on others. Interpersonal byplays suggest a woman holding everyone else as emotional hostages. Her two bandmates, bassist Marielle Hell ( Agyness Deyn ) and drummer Ali van der Wolff ( Gayle Rankin ), are caught between wanting to sympathise with her despite how hard she makes it. Her ex-husband Danny (Stevens) just wants her to get well so she can care for their infant daughter. Her manager Howard Goodman ( Eric Stoltz ) is overwrought, trying to keep her happy as well as his other clients. One by one, everyone’s growing tired of Becky’s tyrannical outbursts and her appetite for self-destruction. Not helping their cause is an ever-present shaman ( Eka Darville ) who compounds her delusions. Between the five scenes, home videos of the band’s happier times play as breathers. The film opens with Becky, Ali and Mari showing off a Spin magazine edition featuring the three on the cover as part of a feature profile. “We won,” they repeat in a moment that attests to a sisterhood yet to be corrupted by the rigours of fame. The next scene takes us a few years later to a live concert: the fans aren’t chanting “Something She” but “Becky.” After the three perform a cover of “Another Girl, Another Planet” by the Only Ones, they return backstage where Becky starts to unplug in more ways than one.

Things sober up, literally, in the fourth part, as Becky takes steps towards recovery. We see a different side to her, more at peace with her demons, living by herself in an isolated house. Mari, Danny and her now preschool daughter Tama (Daisy Pugh-Weiss) come to visit her. In a tender moment, she plays a pared-down rendition of Bryan Adam’s “Heaven” on a grand piano for Tama. The epilogue makes another time jump for a cathartic Something She reunion. As it so often happens in the music business, the fall from grace of one artist paves the way for the rise of another. Though initially feeling threatened by Howard signing the up-and-coming band Akergirls (Cara Delevingne, Ashley Benson and Dylan Gelula), Becky mentors them on realising they worship her. It doesn’t end well of course. Akergirls see first-hand evidence of why you must never meet your heroes. Becky is indeed her own worst enemy. She clings to her celebrity as a lifeline, but it only ends up alienating her further. In a defining moment of quiet amidst the chaos, Becky faces herself in the mirror of her dressing room. As her gaze meets that of her reflection, we come to realise just how addiction can disconnect a person from themselves. Her Smell is available for streaming (for free) on Tubi.

Prahlad Srihari is a film and music writer based in Bengaluru. Read all the  **_Latest News_** _,_  **_Trending News_** _,_  **_Cricket News_** _,_  **_Bollywood News_** _,_  **_India News_**  and  **_Entertainment News_**  here. Follow us on  Facebook_,_  Twitter and  Instagram_._