Just like the onscreen blood, Suicide Club is sticky and messy in its satire. It clings to ideas about a culture that infantilises everything but the film's targets are spread over a wide canvas. This is a film that knew how the internet would creep into our lives. The way society is moving, our thoughts are reduced to pop culture saturated diktats. We're told how to think and feel by the homogeneous flavour of media ever-present in the modern world. The music heard in Suicide Club is tacky life-affirming trash, but the subversive way that it becomes a call for suicide is a brilliant stab at the sort of culture we're creating. This is suicide prepackaged, easy for anyone to digest, and destined to become a trendy fad. Suicidal thoughts can affect anyone, and we are all victims of our own subconscious. Why can't we understand the pain of someone else? Is it because we're selfish? Questions like this can be asked to anyone, and what happens when the world does? People underestimate the power of pop culture, social media, and cult-like organisations. Suicide Club is an ambiguous, transgressive oddity that pushes interesting ideas and bravely tackles dark topics. Its surreal imagery is refreshing and provocative, and Suicide Club is a fascinating piece of original filmmaking.

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