Jigoku: Hell or Gameshow . . . .

•January 24, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Good day all,

It’s been a while since a cracker wriggled free and I would like to say that I did so to tell you all about a real beauty, sadly that is not the case. I really wanted to like this thing, especially with my illustrious captor squawking about its importance to the genre, but it really just confused me. The hell stuff was pretty cool, but the sins of the damned were pretty lame by modern standards. I’ve seen worse in a Red Deer titty bar (with better strippers for that fact) and I’m still not certain if there even was a story before everyone went to Hell. Honestly, I’m not sure the lady didn’t tape a Japanese game show and program in new subtitles just for psychological torture. She’s crafty like that, my cinephile, so I can’t be sure this isn’t a trap (she was extra careful with the bindings in the last few weeks). The best I can do is break it down and see how the parts hold up.

First and foremost, as always, is chicks. Are there sexy women and do they, at some point, get at least, mostly, naked? The answer is yes, but it isn’t that awesome. I understand this flick is from 1960, and that the nudity was badass for the time, but it looked to me (and as an oilfield worker, before capture, I am an expert) like the strippers weren’t even trying. I’ve seen lethargic dancers, like Frisky Dingo-whoring spurs lethargic, but these girls just didn’t seem to care. This brings up an interesting, unanswerable question for all you Zen types, is sad boob better than no boob? Marinate on that one for awhile. Beyond the nudity of the women there was nothing that attractive about them. None were smart enough to challenge, or funny enough to endear, and none of them looked like the type to attack a zombie when you’d really need them to. Yeah, boobs without substance.

Second and penultimate, gore. The movie gets much more interesting when we get to Hell, in that that’s when it starts to make some sense. It is a problem when the most logical part of the film is random scenes of torture on random sinners, and I swear I see the inspiration for the conclusion of the Simpsons in Japan (Lava that looks like cheesy soup). Truth be told the gore, supposedly the first in film, is very well done. The ribcage scene was especially cool and impressive for the time it was made. I must gripe that there is no point to the violence beyond “Hey! We got hell ova’ here”, but I liked it. Booyah!

Third and pretty important, music. If a movie has two corners of this triangle (chicks, gore and music) it can stand in my mind. We have good gore, sad (but naked) chicks and some of the worst music I have ever heard. With no lie, no joke, the entire soundtrack is Japanese opera with the odd cut of tortured screams (see Japanese opera). I don’t want to offend any Japanese readers, I dig your culture, but your opera sucks to an extent that makes my ears cry uncle. It reminded me of cat rape, or at least what I would imagine cat rape to sound like (think Cat Orgy on South Park). I think it was this powerfully symbolic choice of music that killed me on this one. If the chicks are dancing to some hot hip-hop and the people are being tortured to some Slayer (and the story made some sort of logical sense) this would be an awesome movie. If the King of Hell came out and it was Guitarwolf ripping a juicy chord before decapitating unsuspecting sinners this would have ruled. Instead we get the yowling of berobed transvestites with too much make-up.

The only other complaint I have is that I would be damned, so I don’t like this depiction of Hell. My belief is that any version of Hell that would include me, that isn’t awesome like South Park Hell, is wrong and unacceptable. This guy catches a ride with his friend, his friend hits someone, he tries to stop his friend and pauses for a couple of hours before going to the police. His punishment for that couple hours delay is that his girlfriend dies. Seriously, she has a premonition of bad juju and she dies on the way to report the crime. Does that seem fair to the crime? Sure he starts drinking after she dies, but so would I if God killed my girlfriend over a moment’s hesitation in reporting a friend. I’d be doomed to burn for the actions of a single trip to a strip club for my twentieth birthday (long story, nobody died) by this world’s rules. Why isn’t the evil friend punished, is the friend the devil (he keeps popping up), who are these other people, what’s happening? I’m sure there is a moral lesson I should be learning, and the old transvestites are singing about it, but I can’t figure it out and it looks strict so fuck it! The movie was what it was, but could have been so much more. It’s amazing what some badass metal music and happier strippers can do for a flick.

Until the next time I can Riggs my way out of the straight jacket,

The Hostage

Posted in Classic, Foreign, Horror
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Jigoku (1960): We’re All Going to Hell

•January 23, 2011 • Leave a Comment

We recently watched Nobuo Nakagawa’s horror classic Jigoku (1960); AKA Hell and Sinners of Hell.

Synopsis: A graduate student in Tokyo is unfortunate enough to be riding with a fellow student when he runs down a drunken yakuza along a darkened road. The other student drives off, and the yakuza’s mother and girlfriend swear revenge. Things begin to fall apart for the young student. Then everyone ever goes to hell.

I love it when a movie takes the time to create interesting and relevant opening credits. Jigoku gets that half right: the credits are very cool, but somewhat disconnected from what follows. I expected an entirely different film given the tone of the credits. For one thing, they are quite sexually charged, with Bond-esque shadows of sexy ladies dancing while wearing very little, if anything. In the background plays a track of disturbingly real screaming. It reminded me of “A Psychopath” by Lisa Germano, which is sung over the recording of an actual 911 call of a woman whose home is being invaded, and “Suicide” by Frankie Teardrop, which is a raw song about a man who kills his family and then himself (also accompanied by too-real screaming). These were all very effective experiences, and I never want to experience any of them again. So from the start, I expected a disturbingly sexy ride.

Then the movie began. And things kind of lull for a while. After the initial action of the accident, the film meanders through scenes – some relevant, some unrelated. Despite the promise of tension, with a pitiless victim and a ruthless vow of vengeance, nothing really happens for a while. Ok, things happen, but nothing really *happens*, if you know what I mean (probably not). Things go downhill for our “hero” as people he knows and love start dying around him, but it doesn’t seem to drive the film or affect the characters much. The film becomes similar to La Dolce Vita (1960) in that it does not appear to have a real narrative focus. I’m not sure if La Dolce Vita is asking more interesting questions, or if I just had such different expectations for what Jigoku would be after the title credits, but I was confused as to what was going on several times and much of what we see seemed unnecessary. There is the root of a storyline that explains later action, but it felt bloated – as though Nakagawa didn’t have enough material to meet film-length expectations and so added material to the front end.

There is plenty to look at during this lull. Nakagawa uses stark colours with high contrast to great effect. The mise-en-scene is minimalist, and often the only colour on display is a splash of intense red. The camera work is quite experimental; one can imagine even more so for the time the film was released. Nakagawa uses extreme angles and lighting to an extent that would be commented upon if released today. So while the almost incidental narrative drifts along, we follow the characters from beautiful scene to beautiful scene. Waiting for the real show to start. Which it does as the story draws to a close, and basically every character yet seen on-screen bites it. Yeeeeeeeesssssssssssssss. Thankfully everyone was so evil, they have a cheerful reunion in hell.

According to Japanese mythology (as espoused by this film, so grain of salt…), there are 8 hells. I was hopeful that Nakagawa would really explore the different hells, showing us a bit of each. Unfortunately, too much time was spent on meandering, and our view of the tortures of hell are not as expansive as I would have liked. That’s a minor complaint. Judging by what Jigoku proposes, hell is a total bummer. When you aren’t being physically ripped apart, forces work to destroy your emotionally. The entire segment in hell (basically the second half of the movie) is effective, creepy, and haunting. Jigoku is attributed as being the first film to employ gore as a special effect, and it is shocking what they were able to get away with. Consider that in Psycho (1960), Hitchcock had to fight with the MPAA to get the term “transvestite” in the script – at the same time Nakagawa was openly showing a disemboweled man on-screen. Those wacky foreign decency laws; there they go again, thinking people can think for themselves.

So I felt the first half dragged, but was made entirely worth it by our time spent in hell. Perhaps if I were to rewatch with different expectations, the first half would be more effective too. In retrospect, I believe Nakagawa was taking that time to establish the indecency of most of humanity. Ultimately, the moral of the story seems to be that people are evil, and with very few exceptions, we’re all burning in hell for eternity. Seriously. Only two of the characters get to go to the happy place, and I sure don’t have it in me to be as saintly as they were. So I guess I’ll see you all there. I’ll be the one covered in man-eating centipedes. Till the next one.

Key Quote: Enma, King of Hell: Hear me! You who in life piled up sin upon sin will be trapped in Hell forever. Suffer! Suffer! This vortex of torment will whirl for all eternity.

K

Posted in Foreign, Horror
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Deep Red (1975): I Blame Goblins

•January 17, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Well, well, well. Remember what I said about best intentions? Here we are, probably 3 weeks since my last post. I blame Christmas, family, and friends for occupying my time so well. I’m getting back in the swing with a film we watched waaaaay before Christmas, so I’m hoping my memory serves me well.

The flick belongs to horror master, Dario Argento. I have a confession that will make most horror aficionados cringe: I am not the biggest Argento fan. His films, while visually dazzling with creative and effective gore, tend to leave me wanting more in terms of narrative and character development. Moreover, his films are all dubbed, even when the actors are speaking English. As dubbing makes me shudder with contempt (I cannot handle the falsity of the emotion in a dubbed performance), I have always found this annoying to the point of distraction. Many of these complaints are present in Deep Red (1975).

Synopsis: A musician witnesses a murder and teams up with a journalist to solve the killing while the killer attempts to silence them both.

Like much of Argento’s other work, Deep Red is based in “reality,” in the sense that there are not supernatural forces at work. Argento rarely dabbles in narratives involving the mystical; much like a Sherlock Holmes tale, incidents or creatures initially believed to be supernatural are often revealed to have purely natural explanations. This shunning of the other-worldly is part of my objection to his work. I am drawn to and scared by what I don’t understand. As horrific as murder is, working with offenders has demystified it for me. Even the most vile people with whom I have sat are predominantly just people the majority of the time. Once you have seen a multiple murderer pout like a five-year-old child because you were late for an appointment, or bounce with joy at the prospect of showing you pictures of his family (I write “his” as I have only worked with male offenders), it’s hard to subsequently disconnect him from humanity. My work is bleeding into my life as even in movies, I often find myself trying to comprehend the villain’s motivations. It’s not that I find the prospect of murder unfrightening; it is merely that I understand it too well for it to give me that feeling of dread, confusion, and panic I can get from a good ghost story.

It’s a shame I am not more engaged by such tales, as anyone knowledgeable of film can see instantly that Argento is a superb visual director. He is a master of the camera, and each shot is expertly framed. He uses the colour red as a stunning accent throughout the picture, with set pieces and props highlighted in the bloody hue. And above all else, which has undoubtedly earned him such a high reputation within the horror community, Argento is a master of blood. And guts. And decapitation. And evisceration. He has taken horror movie gore to such highs that I am often willing to overlook the inconsistent characterization and poor dialogue that are hallmarks of his work. Gore effects of the time had to be so much more creative that they do now, and the result was often inspired. Now CGI can make anything happen, and I find that the air of falsity inherent to the computer tricks renders them much less effective. I prefer to marvel at an effect through tense fingers while pondering how they could have possibly made it look so real! In addition, Deep Red is more humourous than I expected. Both the handling of the journalist’s POS car and the banter between the artist and reporter contain more laughs than all my previous Argento experiences combined. That’s not to say it’s a laugh riot; a Rob Schneider movie has more laughs than my previous Argento viewings. But it was an unexpected element that helped raise the film above my expectations.

My modest expectations. Because really, there are still a few glaring flaws that keep Deep Red from ultimately being successful, in my opinion. The first is admittedly my issue: I really cannot handle all the bad dubbing. In the opening, the characters were subtitled, and I became hopeful that this time, I could focus on the other important aspects of the picture. Then my ears were subjected to the poorly dubbed dialogue in English, and I believed that language in the film would follow general conventions; that is, the Italian people would speak English when one of the characters was English-speaking, but would converse in Italian with each other. But it soon became apparent that there was no logic driving this bus. Characters seemed to slip in and out of languages at whim. At one point, two previously established English speakers are talking in Italian (for no narrative purpose). So rather than being less distracting, as I first believed, the audio was more annoying than usual.

But the real killer here is the soundtrack, provided by Italian progressive rock band Goblin (who, according to Wikipedia, were actually well-known for their work on this film as well as Suspiria (1977) – seriously?!!). Imagine a shadow, cast across a frightened woman. She hears a noise, and her terror grows. Suddenly from behind she is knocked on the head and dragged across the floor, writhing and fighting to free herself. How scary is that… set to a the score of a 70’s cop action show? I genuinely felt like Starsky and Hutch were about to bust the Striped Tomato through the living room wall. If you were to lay this soundtrack over the Beastie Boys Sabotage video, it would fit like a magenta velour glove. Argento spends a long time building suspense and creating a delicious tension only to undo all his hard work with a score completely disconnected from the action at hand. The music was the primary element keeping Deep Red from being the creepy experience it had the potential to be.

So unfortunately, Deep Red did not change my mind of Argento. He remains a visual genius whom I wish would let others write his material. And handle the music (please). Because with his eye for tension and gore, if the other aspects were even decent, he would jump to the top of my list.

Favourite Scene: the death of the psychiatrist… he had it coming.

Key Quote: “Gianna! Gianna! There’s someone in the house… absolutely trying to kill me, ya’know?”

Fun Fact: After the international success of Suspiria, Deep Red was released in Japan as Suspiria 2, ignoring that Deep Red was made two years before and has no narrative connections.

Until the next,

K

Posted in Foreign, Horror
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Man Bites Dog: A likable sort of sociopath . . . . .

•December 31, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Good day all,

First of all happy holidays to all of you freedom loving browsers; I knew the holidays were here when the lady mixed some extra potato peel into my daily gruel (she says if I’m good I can have the organ meat from the turkey). Christmas always means that the lady brings her family on through to have a turn at humiliating and abusing the ol’ hostage, but the dad-in-law (film teacher) came through with a gem this year. The best way I can put my response to this little ditty is that it is the film that Cannibal Holocaust should have been. Some of you may be going “hey, Cannibal Holocaust, the poor sod just made a recommendation”, but you would be mistaken in your assumption. The best way I can really get to the heart of this is a quick PSA on broadening film horizons by seeing “important” films. Meet me on camera three:

Hi everybody. When the lady and I were first dating, and before I “mysteriously disappeared”, we would often attend the “Bad Monster Movie” nights in our home city. Every week or two there would be a double feature, usually starting around midnight, of two of the best of the worst in horror. This was the ploy that lured me in to the lady and her film obsession. An attractive, cool woman that seems to like you back and loves gory movies was the perfect “too good to be true” trap to land yours truly where he is; strapped to the radiator with a chain just long enough to reach the lonely toilet in the corner. Just before my disappearance we saw a film called Cannibal Holocaust: an Italian film based on the idea that a film crew went in to the deep jungle, saw the natives do what was natural for them and disgustingly barbaric to us, got lost and went insane in such a fashion as to take the worst of what the natives did look like Mr. Dressup (poor a little on the curb for Ernie Coombs, or look him up if outside Canada). I get the point; powerful metaphor for colonialism, suggestion that civilization is just as violent as those we see as inferior, blah, blah, blah, blah. For those unfamiliar, the director went for horrible realism and had to show up in court to prove he hadn’t actually murdered the actors. It is an important film for freedom of speech, a powerful challenge to our ideals and fucking terrible. I’m glad I saw it, but wish I could go back in time and unsee it (or at least find the right, powerful solvent to wash it from my looking balls). It had no sense of humour at all and the graphic nature simply sickened with no hope of telling an interesting story. The point of this ramble is, simply, that the “important” films aren’t always good and the awesome, too cool to be a real woman, woman is going to kidnap you and make you watch movies where nothing happens to amuse her. Just a heads up.

Sorry about that, it kind of wound on. Man Bites Dog (or This Happened in you Neighborhood), is what that other movie should have been. The violence is graphic, shocking and powerfully realistic. The opening scene, with no prior explanation, is a woman walking past a small, really diminutive man on a train only to be pulled into a side room and be strangled (in as believable a fashion as I have ever seen). The killer is the most amiable, likable guy and the film crew gets caught up in what he’s doing to such an extent that they end up helping at times. We’re told they are simply following the artist’s curse and are forced to document events, but they start pulling for the guy (and I did too). I wrote in the past about Stockholm Syndrome, but this crew seems to have gone beyond to Copenhagen Syndrome; an imaginary illness where the victim starts trying to outdo the captor (like making her watch Hot to Trot). I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but they join in on a bloody gang-rape/double homicide to blow off steam after a few bevies. I was amazed how quickly Benoit could win me over after disgusting me and, especially, how concerned I was when it all started to unravel. I was cheering for a man whose best comparison is Christian Bale in American Psycho based on the deeds he commits, but has moments where he is as lovable as Mr. Dressup. It makes all of the same comments on violence and society, but does it in a way that makes it worth watching.

All I can tell you is that I really enjoyed this one, which leads me to believe that my incarceration is starting to have a negative effect. I feel dirty liking it, I feel the lady has won a small victory in my liking it and, perhaps most importantly, I have a few new methods for escape inspired by my liking of it (but fear that I might just keep going after Cruella and bring a Benoit style, lovable murder spree to your neighborhood). I think I’d rather save my soul and wait for the lady to slip up rather than actively removing her (besides, the punishment I’d receive if I failed would be similar to the flute and broomstick from the film). Is this the perfect film to watch with the family over what I think is the holiday season, no, is it the type of movie that you will feel dirty about enjoying and want to discuss with others, yes (but don’t go hiring a film crew to document your exploits if too inspired). At worst, you’ll meet the most likable sociopath I’ve bumped into in film (think Dexter with sense of humour and magnetic charm, but French).

Until the next time I chew the rope away, keep looking for me on milk boxes,

The Hostage

 

Posted in Comedy, Foreign, Thriller
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Man Bites Dog (1992): I Need to Take a Shower

•December 23, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Merry almost ho-ho everyone! Ah, the time of yule; when all good intentions of work are tossed aside with childlike glee. While watching just as many movies as always (as my family is similarly addicted to cinema), there seems to be less time to sit and write about what I am viewing. I intend to continue over the holidays, but you know what they say about the road to hell…

However, some films demand reviewing, as is the case with Man Bites Dog (1992) – alternatively known as C’est Arrive Pres de Chez Vous (It Happened in Your Neighbourhood) – a Belgian film directed by Remy Belvaux, André Bonzel, and Benoit Poelvoode, each of whom appear to play themselves in the film (although, one hopes with little to no veracity).

Synopsis: A documentary crew follows serial killer Benoit as he gives “lessons” on killing, life, robbery, race, poetry, and sadism.

A couple of months ago, the hostage and I saw the film Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon (2006), a movie about a documentary crew detailing the rise of the next horror icon; in the world of the movie, legendary killers such as Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees exist in reality, and Vernon plans to be the next big thing. It was 45 minutes of sheer satiric genius followed by 45 minutes of standard slasher fare. Man Bites Dog is clearly the movie Behind the Mask was based on and wanted to be. Filmed in the mockumentary style, Man Bites Dog is a much more effective movie, in that it is funnier, more daring, and more disturbing.

First of all, and I hate to be the person who has to drag their work into everything, but the filmmakers nailed the psychopath. The superficial charm barely concealing the hotbed of rage underneath; the sensitivity to any perceived slight; the self-aggrandizing narcissism (best evidenced by his need to continually wax poetic on inanities like pigeons); the parasitic lifestyle – not only does it all fit beautifully with the clinical description of psychopathy, but it also perfectly reflects my own limited experience in working with such individuals. When a dinner party with friends goes south, I knew it had to be coming both from his behaviour during the scene and my expectations given his… condition (there must be a better word for this, but give me a break, it’s Christmas). The actor is chilling and believable in every scene.

The movie walks a fine line between horrifying and humourous. The opening five minutes let you know exactly what you are in for: we open on Benoit strangling a woman on a train. But this is not a Hollywood strangling. There is no cutting away, no stylistic relief, no quick death; we watch her death, her struggle, for an uncomfortably long time. However, immediately following this, we cut to Benoit giving instructions on the proper weight ratio to use when dumping a body, and how different factors such as age and midgetry impact that ratio. It is darkly hilarious.

This is the general pattern of the film: periods of Benoit regaling us with advice on how to survive as a serial killer (very funny) with footage of him slaughtering people spliced in between (deeply disturbing). The humour is disarming, particularly as the movie progresses and becomes darker. The crew themselves, while no doubt once merely objective observers of the horror in their minds, become increasingly more involved and swept up in Benoit’s world. We start to hear justifications and rationalizations for the continuance of their work.

As much as I can stomach, Man Bites Dog nearly lost me with one especially repugnant gang-rape scene. I have never handled sexual violence well (Cannibal Holocaust was probably the single most unpleasant film experience I’ve ever had), and this was a little graphic for my delicate sensibilities. Following that scene, I thought the filmmakers had gone too far to recover that comedic element; my fault for doubting them. For while that scene stayed with me (and still stays with me, likely the directors’ intention), I found myself laughing several times before the end and was able to re-engage with the story. The scene was relevant to the characters and the narrative; ergo while unpleasant and graphic, it did not seem gratuitous. As well, I have since learned that the filmmakers were reluctant to shoot the scene, but the woman who plays the victim was supportive of the film and its message, which helped comfort the crew. I don’t know why (perhaps due to how real everything on-screen feels), but it relieves me that the scene was disturbing for the filmmakers too.

I could not recommend this movie to everyone. It is not escapist; at times it is too disturbing to be entertaining, other times people might find the light tone disrespectful given the subject matter. But the purpose of the graphic violence is obviously to denounce rather than glorify such brutality. Several days later, I am still thinking about it. If you like your comedies black (and I mean BLACK) and thought-provoking, I think you’ll enjoy Man Bites Dog.

Best Kill: Watch how Benoit “saves a bullet” with an elderly victim.

Key Quote: “Once I buried two Arabs in a wall over there… Facing Mecca, of course.”

WTF Moment: Benoit’s sadness for the “innocents” (people whom he has killed but cannot gain from financially).

Have a great holidays! Hope you hug your families extra tight this year.

K

Posted in Comedy, Foreign, Horror
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