The Benefactress (an Exposure of Cinematic Freedom) (2025) Review

In an era where cinema often gravitates toward polished narratives and predictable arcs, some filmmakers still try to wield the camera as a weapon of truth- or at least provocation. Like the pioneers of cinéma vérité and the political provocateurs of the 1960’s New Wave, they strive to strip away artifice, exposing the raw nerves of human experience. Yet the paradox remains: the moment a lens is trained on reality, reality shifts. True vérité may be unattainable, but the pursuit itself can become a radical act- one that interrogates not just the subject, but the viewer’s complicity.

This is the purported aim of underground filmmaker Guerrilla Metropolitana, who seems to be trying to use the medium of film to disturb, ignite debate and fracture the boundaries between observation and intrusion. In his newest work, ‘The Benefactress (an Exposure of Cinematic Freedom),’ a self-styled philanthropist agrees to finance Metropolitana’s next project, on the condition that she be in it. So begins a descent into a labyrinth of voyeurism, manipulation and moral decay that can only end messily.

Currently out on global distribution through Blood Pact Films, and available via streaming services, Metropolitana’s film is a caustic exercise in viewer alienation. Its mostly improvised narrative is sparse, repetitive and full of uncomfortable scenes. Like Tamakichi Anaru’s infamous (and more accomplished) ‘Tumbling Doll of Flesh’, it aims not to tell a conventional story, but to unsettle. Generally, there are two ways to approach a film like this. One is to dissect its surface, which in this case generates more fatigue than feeling: the imagery is confrontational, the plot minimal and the dialogue and characterisation practically non-existent.

The other is to consider what these choices reveal about the filmmaker’s intent: a rejection of narrative comfort and a desire to provoke reflection rather than deliver resolution or conform to cinematic conventions. Metropolitana’s film can be seen as a grand experiment, of sorts, pushing the boundaries of what can be considered cinema. 

Stylistically, the film is visceral and confrontational. Abuse and sexual content- much of which is apparently unsimulated- appears throughout, presented with a cold, voyeuristic detachment. However, these sequences lack the grisly, macabre precision of Anaru’s work, and feel somewhat amateurish by comparison. Further, although the cast appear committed, their performances ultimately feel as hollow as the parts they play, undermined by Metropolitana’s scant characterisation.

Visually, the film is striking, shot partially in high-contrast black and white and partially in the desaturated hues of a 70’s porn flick. Reliant on handheld camerawork amidst claustrophobic interiors, Metropolitana rejects aesthetic polish in favour of gritty immediacy. The sound design leans into discomfort, favouring eerie melodies and sharp bursts of dissonance, creating a discordant sonic landscape heightening the film’s abrasive tone. While these stylistic choices generate a dark, uneasy mood, they are arguably overused, quickly becoming exhausting.

It may certainly be more rewarding to attempt to contextualize ‘The Benefactress (an Exposure of Cinematic Freedom)’ as a conceptual provocation rather than a coherent piece of storytelling. Viewed this way, its sexually charged imagery and emotional detachment become part of a larger statement about the limits of cinematic language. This approach demands a great deal of effort, however.

Much like the aforementioned Anaru effort, or Sade Satô’s equally disturbing ‘Mai-Chan’s Daily Life,’ Metropolitana’s film purposefully offers very little in the way of character development, resonance or momentum. For many, it will feel like a sick endurance test- challenging not only one’s patience, but one’s natural desire for meaning. Whether that challenge is worthwhile depends entirely on the viewers’ appetite for discomfort. 

To frame all this as artistic intent may be giving Metropolitana too much credit- a concern that echoes the controversy surrounding the similarly seedy ‘A Serbian Film’, whose creators claimed it was an allegory for Serbia’s post-war trauma. That justification, for many, rang exceedingly hollow- a retroactive excuse for gratuitous excess rather than a genuine artistic motive. ‘The Benefactress (an Exposure of Cinematic Freedom)’ invites similar scrutiny.

Are its repetitively pornographic scenes a deliberate challenge to cinematic norms, or merely a convenient shield for incoherence and shock? Is the absence of a conventional storyline really a philosophical stance or simply self-indulgence masquerading as depth? More broadly, what even constitutes cinema- a coherent narrative, an emotional arc, or simply the act of provocation? These questions linger long after the credits roll on Guerrilla Metropolitana’s ‘The Benefactress (an Exposure of Cinematic Freedom)’, and, frankly, are more compelling than the film itself.