Since de Sade and the death of God, the universe of language has absorbed our sexuality, denatured it, placed it in a void where it establishes its sovereignty and where it incessantly sets up as the Law the limits it transgresses� (Foucault, Language, Counter-Memory, Practice: Selected Essays and Interviews. 1977, p. 50).

Roth is fascinating b/c for someone who should be all about Sade, isnt. Nathan Lee (who has made sense of both 300 and Marie Antoniette, so seems to have a thing for movies about fractured narrative, lacnuae, and bodies) writes in the voice, that Hostel 2:

And the violence? Very nasty indeed, if neutered by Roth's pathetic desperation to shock. The most disturbing thing about this implausibly R-rated spectacle is what it says about the double standard of the MPAA. Apparently, you can linger over a cock in close-up so long as it's being cut in half by a pair of scissors. Getting an audience to whoop in pleasure at graphic castration is less an expression of some twisted feminist agenda, as our disingenuous auteur would have us believe, than a dirty little YouTube stunt writ large.

Ends up there is a moral to the story, one sure to delight the bamboozled pseudo-intellectuals who laughably defended Hostel as a geo-political critique of American arrogance and the culture of torture. Having survived her ordeal in classic Final Girl style, our mega-rich heroine simply buys her way to freedom. Eli Roth punks capitalism all the way to the bank with cheap tricks and bankrupt imagination.

by giving the film a hard R, and by it being made by a major studio, Roth proves Auntie Michel's point. There is no way that this movie (or the horror genre right now can mantain its grindhouse authencitiy with late captialisms money...