Christoph Letkowski and Carla Juri in Wetlands (Strand Releasing)

The shock value of Wetlands far surpasses anything I’ve seen in a long time. This film could sit beside the likes of Todd Solondz’s Happiness and Harmony Korine’s Gummo for its sheer fearlessness. I hope no one goes into this movie without being forewarned of its rawness, which, however thorough the description, could never convey the delightful vulgarity in store.

Zooming in on the reckless pastimes of 17-year-old Helen Memel (Carla Juri), Wetlands is an adolescent squeal for attention. Helen’s days are shaped by her zealous sexuality, contrarian spirit, and a deliberate rejection of genital hygiene. She’ll try anything, anywhere, especially if there is promise of a titillating new sensation to explore, like, say, intercourse with a cucumber.

Helen prides herself on her brash and liberated nature, speeding through her native Berlin with the curiosity of Huck Finn and the habits of Hunter S. Thompson. One morning while shaving her ass—part of her “sexual equipment”—our heroine nicks a sizable bit of her chronic hemorrhoid, winding up in the hospital.

As she drifts in and out of post-op consciousness, we are taken through the dreams, memories, and fantasies of Helen’s active imagination. She sees her hospital stay as an opportunity to reunite her divorced parents, who did a questionable job of raising her, as we see from flashbacks of her mother’s neurotic cruelty and her father’s misogynistic exploits. This wish injects Helen with a much-needed dose of vulnerability, which is otherwise eluded by her life as a teenage bacchante.

Growing increasingly frustrated at her plan’s foibles, she prolongs her hospital staycation via nauseating means, wreaking havoc on the staff with the gumption of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’s Randle Patrick McMurphy. Though one handsome nurse, Robin (the insufferably charming Cristoph Letkowski), is not so much bothered but rather aroused by Helen’s spark, stories, and inability to tie her hospital gown.

Wetlands houses all the components of a groundbreaking film: well acted and shot, and courageous in its visual subject matter. It not only portrays a young woman who is entirely comfortable with her sexuality, but also lends a refreshing perspective on the taboo of bodily functions, one much closer to the animal kingdom than polite society. I commend the audacity and crassness of this film to go where most dare not, though even I admit that at times it seems excessive and unnecessary to the plot and character development.

The biggest issues with the film were mostly reserved for some of the cinematography and the ending. The former was on-point most, but occasionally seemed a bit too choppy, as if director David Wnendt was really trying to make something “edgy for the kids.” We’ve all seen the fast-paced, stop-motion LaChapelle/Luhrmann music video flair before, and it’s getting a bit tired. The film is already about adolescence. It doesn’t need a forced “fresh look” to communicate that.

The prominent offender was the conclusion, but only because everything earlier was so revolutionary. The climax is wonderfully disturbing, something that shocked me even after 106 minutes of a churning gut. So when a film this defiant gets wrapped up in a wispy romcom bow at the end, I’m disappointed.

If you have the stomach and a specific sense of humor, see Wetlands. Hell, bring a first date; it will be a great litmus test. Maybe go after you’ve already eaten.