“The Only Way Out Is Through”

When I first saw Andrzej Żuławski’s “Possession” (1981), I thought I would never watch it again; not because I didn’t like it—quite the contrary—but because I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. A recent re-watch of the now cult-classic reinforced this idea once more, as I remain supremely confounded by pretty much anything present in the movie. Yet, just like I have always craved an anthology about the psychological and philosophical merits of Matthew McConaughey’s character in the first season of “True Detective”—feel free to steal this idea if you are reading this, whoever you are—, I have always longed for a compelling analysis of the movie in question. Chris Kelso’s recently released effort in this regard does exactly that, and much more.

Kelso’s “Possession. Dreams Of Suffering And Sanity” is one of those books I wished I had written; strong enough in its delivery and reflexivity, yet humorous and engaging enough for it not to become an overt academic circle-jerk. In fact, for a book that discusses a movie as, at times, depraved and unhinged as “Possession”, Kelso’s personal but equally knowledgeable writing made me not only love the movie even more but laugh out loud on more than just one occasion. “I dreamt of my girlfriend leaving me or a Lovecraftian entity many times” (Page 11) not only feels like a true admission of fear but a real question at hand: what if our partner suddenly left us for a creature that, despite their adherence to mythological and dystopian features, was able to please them better than we ever could? This prerogative seems as if it is bound to turn both the cheater and the eventual cuckold into a vessel for insanity; one coming into their own on, well, very strange terms and the other having to not only live with this decision but witness it firsthand, as Mark does by the end of the film. What do we do when people, suddenly, change, for seemingly inexplicable reasons other than erotic revelations? The movie itself never answers these questions, with Anna, played by Isabelle Adjani, essentially exorcising herself, from suffering to alleged lucidity, and Mark spiraling because he cannot satisfy Anna anymore. Left with his own, not entirely devoid of meaning suffering, Mark spirals into not being able to live without Anna, who wishes to seclude herself from him in favor of an anthropoid creature that, even as it’s visuals repulse, is able to provide her with greater pleasure than Mark ever could. As Kelso aptly points out, the true horror, if one considers a monogamous relationship, is not entirely the supposed ugliness of the person or creature one might be cheating with, but the horror of the infidelitous act itself, anchoring the movie’s absurd, Kafkaesque quality in something much more tangible and relatable, as, contrary to what some might venture to think, I have never lost a partner to Cthulhu, or any other tentacled creature for that matter.  

The book’s quick-fire nature makes it ripe with associations to, thank God, not only the classics of philosophy but also finds connections within contemporary culture. I especially loved Kelso’s connection between the movie, Isabelle Adjani and Dennis Cooper’s “The Marbled Swarm”, not only because, at the time of writing, I had just finished the latter—which, similarly to “Possession”, welcomes interpretation as much as it expertly denies it, in the most fantastical of ways—but also because how the novel’s use of a rather contrived way of speaking is supposed to alienate and manipulate those around the protagonist, just as Anna will do throughout the movie. She not only will speak and act in ways that seem fragmented from each other, cryptic and elusive in their directness and staccato rhythm, but her whole interior reality will transform her as much as those around her, just like the marbled swarm is bound to alter those that speak it as well. Beyond this, the illuminating short passage on Anna’s U-Bahnhof abjection—made to symbolize a willful extraction of her old life in favor for a new one—being related to Lingua Ignota’s live performances was a fantastic epiphanic moment, one that now also makes me see her excellent 2021 album “Sinner Get Ready” in connection with Anna channeling her suffering in such a visually violent way. On the record, Hayter (Lingua Ignota) mostly deals with the trauma of an abusive relationship, not dissimilar to how “Possession”, if one were to boil it down to one sentence, is primarily Anna’s search for absolution in something—I remain vague on purpose—that sees her in a rupture with her old self and heading to a new, perhaps more holistic form. How does that saying go, “The only way out is through”, or some shit? Anna now knows herself, inside and out; she might not know what to do with her suffering, but now she knows she can shed her old skin (which, were it not for the problematic sides of Mark, was never in question). 

For a movie that has, audibly, to no one but my own television, made me go “holy fucking shit” almost every 10 minutes, the book almost outdoes it in its sharpness and analytical redemption of subjects that really, even for the most trained David Lynch fan, aren’t easy to stomach. Kelso’s “Possession: Dreams Of Suffering And Sanity” makes “Possession’s” insanity digestible while allowing the film’s allure to still drift away in its own magic; a magic that will continue to defy interpretations in order to create new ones. I truly wish this book was longer so I could immerse myself in theories that would lead me towards the deepest crevices of Reddit, only to begin reading it again. Ultimately, Kelso, never shy of interjecting personal anecdotes into his analysis of the movie that make the whole ride even more intriguing and charming, confesses that writing the book has helped him to understand some of his own behavior, channeling the same kind of expellatory force as Anna does throughout the movie, having used writing, not unlike many others, as a way to channel a particular kind of experience. Suffering, sanity or something between and beyond the two are not only the driving force of the movie, but end up being the most redeeming qualities of the book itself, acting as a totem for a rejection of an old, bleak life in favor of shedding one’s skin to become a better version of whatever creature one would classify themselves to be. Anna channels a willful possession, just like Kelso’s prescient argumentations. 

Daniel Gianfranceschi (1999) is a multidisciplinary artist and writer working within the realms of painting, text and sound. Gianfranceschi previously studied fashion management under Prof. Sabine Resch & Prof. Markus Mattes and is now continuing his studies in painting and sound at the Academy of Fine Arts under Prof. Florian Pumhösl &; Prof. Florian Hecker. His work has been shown at Kunstpavillon München, Goethe-Institut Athens, Künstlerhaus Stuttgart, Württembergischer Kunstverein and, most recently, Museum Brandhorst, among others. Writing contributions have been featured in Erratum Press, Cutt Press, La Piccoletta Barca, Virgo Venus Press, Sleeve Magazine, Positionen Magazin, Frameless Magazin and more. His musical output has been performed at various institutions and featured in compilations by the likes of Industrial Coast, Les Horribles Travailleurs and more.