Whores’ Glory By Michael Glawogger

Composed of three mid-length features of about forty minutes each, this cinematic triptych starts in Thailand, then continues in Bangladesh, and eventually ends in Mexico. Each episode takes place in a defined and recognised area of prostitution: Glawogger not only films practices but also geographical and social spaces. From the Bangkok massage parlour called “Fish Tank” due to the very large showcase where the girls sit and are picked up by customers, passing by the narrow streets of Jaridpur’s “City of Joy” – a ghetto dedicated to sex trafficking which Bengalis venture into, to the “Zona” of border city Reynosa where cars slowly zigzag between puddles in search of their sex fix, Whores’ Glory is a total immersion into the world of brothels.

Indeed what distinguishes Glawogger’s documentary is not really an innovative approach to the topic (there’s nothing completely nexpected nor mind-blowing we get to come across), but the feeling of being right in the middle of where things happen, as privileged witnesses - without being put in an uncomfortable voyeuristic position - of how prostitution works, and of situations we would not have possible access otherwise. To achieve this degree of apparent smoothness and openness, no doubt hours, days, even months of negotiation (and of getting the film crew to be accepted) were necessary. Some might criticise the fact that the director could only get what the prostitutes, pimps and customers alike were willing to ‘give’ him, but the deal fits the purpose of the film as it reflects what prostitution at large is: faking an intimate relationship.

The extraordinary cinematographic experience is for a large part due to the high profile of the production. Wolfgang Thaler’s cinematography is just breathtaking at times, almost glamorising the most sordid places with oversaturated colours. And if the soundtrack – mixing an original score and folk singers such as Antony & The Johnsons, PJ Harvey, and CocoRosie – is surprising at first (some might even consider it misplaced), it eventually conveys the notion of glory (a sense of grace and presence of God in all human activities – including prostitution) the title of the film is referring to.

As a matter of fact, even though the title and the choice of a triptych structure seemed to suggest a religious approach to prostitution – or at least an approach placing religion at the core of the subject, the result remains somehow superficial. Of course, the Thai prostitutes burn incense to have more customers; one young Bengali girl says she will never perform oral sex as her mouth is the organ praying to Allah; and the Mexican women devote a mysterious cult to ‘Santa Muerte’’, the Saint of Death. Yet, Glawogger deceivingly never investigates deeply the complex relationships between religion and prostitution. Buddhism, Islam, and Christianity are considered as simple cursors on how the prostitution activity is either socially accepted or ostracised in a given society. The non-judgmental touch of the director here reaches one of its limits, as Glawogger clearly seems to favour the Buddhist philosophy taking sex as a human need – like any others – over the Muslim or Christian ones, where notions of guilt and of necessary evil are prevalent. This being mentioned, Whores’ Glory is definitely one of the highlights of the Orizzonti Section of Venice this year – confirmed by the Special Jury Prize it received.

By Matthieu Darras