The Sign Outside Does Not Say Possibility of Vacancies: Bug (2006)

I will navigate toward a film if it involves a variety of things, some of these include specific details like the acting of Michael Shannon, or the incredibly engaging post-structuralist cinematic leanings of William Friedkin.  In more general terms I am always intrigued by a film that decidedly limits itself in terms of cinematic space or revitalizes what one would assume to be a genre focus that has been wrung dry of any critical possibilities.  Imagine by elation when I discovered that all of these elements were on play simultaneously in the 2006 film Bug, which for a variety of different reasons appears to have come and went with little to no flair, despite it being a rather stellar work in not only the genre of horror-thriller, but also a rather well-executed exercise in narrative filmmaking that works within a linear framework, but still manages to reject any degree of normalcy.  I would even boldly assert that while, Friedkin has always been one to push the cinematic narrative conventions within the real of traditional industry filmmaking, Bug is a work fully entrenched within the experimental and to a degree the avant garde.  Perhaps this films  biggest injustice was its being marketed as a horror film, something that is, undoubtedly, true about its existence and is certainly what led me to engaging with it in the first place, only barely making the cut for inclusion this month, but it is so much more that simply a genre piece with well-delivered elements.  Friedkin's Bug is a very thought out and pin-pointed working of the cinematic tool and its ability to capture the human psyche, particularly one whose fracturing extend not only outside a singular body, but might even occupy multiple versions of self-hood within even a single extension.  Friedkin's film makes sure not to flail about with some of the traditional narrative establishment elements, instead choosing focus his time on the hyper-specific elements of his two main characters, resulting in allowing Michael Shannon to shine, as is usually the case, however, much to my surprise, once the usually underwhelming Ashley Judd does find her footing within this film she manages to exude her own very respectable performance, culminating in a film whose veneer is so thin that realizing one is watching a revolution in cinema practices unfold is only one of its many fantastic elements.

Bug centers on the character of Agnes White (Ashley Judd) an apparently down and out on her luck woman who has holed herself up in the walls of a motel room, avoiding the calls from her recently paroled ex-husband by engaging in heavy consumption of alcohol and self-medication through a lethal cocktail of various pills and narcotics.  While visiting a friend at her job one night, she tangentially meets Peter Evans (Michael Shannon) a ex-military soldier who is considerably soft spoken, but, nonetheless, quite nice to Agnes who takes a quick liking to his simple earnestness.  After an string of incredibly open discussion about their pasts and personal opinions Agnes invites Peter to stay in her place, if only for a non-platonic comforting figure, a notion that seems to parallel Peter's own desires as he ends up spending the night sleeping on the floor at the foot of Agnes' bed.  When Agnes awakes she discovers, not Peter, but her ex-husband Jerry (Harry Connick Jr.) in her house she panics, but again the reemergence of Peter seems to save the situation, his calm attitude diffusing the situation with Jerry. It is not long after this encounter, however, that it becomes clear that Peter might not be as well of as it would suggest, admitting to paranoia surrounding being bitten by bugs, after the two awake during a bed bug attack after a night of intercourse.  What begins as an innocent consideration of a person who is really picky about what things touch his skin, unfolds into something far more complex as Agnes realizes Peter is deeply invested in notions of conspiracy theory and his own body being a vessel of experimentation for the American government, causing him to begin invasion proofing the house with a combination of insect killers and eventually lining the place with aluminum foil, even going so far as to attack a man claiming to be an advisor to him when he was allegedly in a mental hospital, this reaction part of what Peter believes to be a larger conspiracy.  After the murder of this man, Peter questions the loyalty of Agnes one last time, before the two complete an ultimate cleansing from the invasion of bugs, in that they burn the room down, self-immulating themselves in the process.  A snippet in the middle of the credits, however, suggest that a world of normalcy exists somewhere after the plot has ended, perhaps even the possibility that nothing truly occurred in the first place.

I cannot even begin to fathom what I might consider in terms of the critical theories and themes running throughout this movie.  There are the obvious approaches which consider the film for its varied and violent depictions of a particular sect of paranoid schizophrenics whose fears lead to layers of self-mutilation that in its most intense forms extends onto other posies. A sort of Münchausen by proxy in an extreme cinematic form.  Another reading could also look at the ways in which this segments the body horror film into a very small space, looking at two individuals personal identity struggles and the ways in which the outside world is infesting its demands and purportedly "ideal" way of existing upon them, while they react in an allergic and grotesque way.  I could also attempt to tackle the psycho-sexual issues at play in this film, particularly those considering the paternal and maternal in relation to a lost youth or childhood.  All of this is working within Friedkin's Bug and to great success I might add.  Where I think another narrative might emerge is that the film also carries a degree of addiction narrative about it, both in regards to Agnes and Peter, who seem to constantly be either consuming or injecting things into their bodies that are far from healthy, each shade deeper on this scale resulting in their falling apart as humans in very real and tangible ways.  For Peter his decaying is in a much more psychological way, although this fracturing from reality also leads him to remove teeth from his mouth again also a possible result of unseen drug use.  Agnes' own fractured identity as a result of addiction seems somewhat more apparent beginning with her blatant alcoholism and her deep depression induced at the reminder of losing a child, although its factuality is always up for debate, perhaps being a direct result of her alcoholism in the first place.  The narrative, as such, becomes an issue of two addicts coming together and feeding off one anothers' drive to destroy, ultimately, doing so not only to bodies that are completely healthy and trying to help, but to their very space of living, as if to break from the confines of existence itself.

Key Scene:  Michael Shannon and teeth.  Michael Shannon and Ashley Judd talking about variants of insects.  Michael Shannon doing anything.

This is a cheap enough DVD to buy, I assure you it is worth the minimal investment.

I Want To Stay Sane Enough To Recognize The Terror: Marebito (2004)

I have seen many Tartan Asian Extreme releases, in most cases entirely predicated upon their being Korean films, which means that I will give them consideration for this fact alone.  While about a third of the films are generally watchable, most prove a bit reductive, or exploitative in ways that neither push forward genre conventions or prove watchable even in a disconcerting manner.  Even fewer suffer from the problem of wild mislabeling in their advertisement, or at least that was the case with Marebito, a film that sat on my "to view" shelf for ages because from the looks of its vague, torture porn/vampire cover it was something I would immediately hate upon popping it into my DVD player.  Yet, in the case of this film, the DVD cover and vague description on the back do little to truly speak to the excellent work which presents itself on the film.  An entirely digital film, Takashi Shimizu, manages to meld together various types of moving images, whether they be video recordings, television images or even the diegetic space of the film itself to consider what is seen by the human eye and, more interestingly, what presences beyond human perception can emerge when a new form of technology can achieve heightened senses.  Doubling also as a narrative of descent into the labyrinth of madness, Marebito becomes a work so purposefully expressionist that it has a degree of landscape painting, at times indicative of the work of Caspar David Friedrich or the wonderful nightmarish spaces of a F.W. Murnau film, more so considering the twisting of the plot in ways that make Dr. Caligari seem like a straightforward story.  Marebito, much like post-2000 J-horror films, challenges the conventions of horror, but does so while also undermining the entire under process of filmmaking in the process.

Marebito focuses on Masuoka (Shinya Tsukamoto) a freelance cameraman who travels about the city of Tokyo chronicling items of interest, compounding them together, along with hours of surveillance footage to create a bizarre sort of viewing room in his house full of televisions and computer screens constantly streaming various imagery, both of a mundane and tragic nature.  Perhaps one of the more unusual things in Masuoka's viewing is that of a woman staring out a window, of which he constantly talks to about her existence.  However, when Masuoka uncovers footage of a man stabbing himself in the forehead, he becomes obsessed with the nature of his fear and curious as to what the man was starring at so intensely right before committing the act.  When the image breaks free of its conventions and directly acknowledges Masuoka's looking, he becomes even more scared and begins a quest into the underworld of Tokyo to find answers.   With his camera in tow, Masuoka discovers a world of underground dwellers known as Dero, who seem more like bestial vampires than humanoid figures.  When he comes across the deceased form of the body he watched stab itself on screen, Masuoka's descent takes on new levels, particularly when he emerges from his descent into a new world of lush colors and dreary skylines, where he finds one of the presumed Deros, this time a female, chained to the wall naked.  Confused, but curious, Masuoka takes the woman back to his apartment and begins keeping her as a pet, an act that quickly takes a dark turn, not only for its possession elements, but because the girl, who Masuoka names F, can only be nourished by being given blood to consume, finding particular enjoyment in human blood.  This leads to Masuoka's life falling apart and his alienating, in some times very harmful ways, from the rest of the world, while also becoming aware of his own heightened perceptions after his descent into the darkness, leading to a sacrificial act on his part so grand that it causes him to assumedly plunge into the depths of the labyrinth completely and irreversibly.

To call Marebito a bizarre reconsideration of Plato's Allegory of the Cave would be a bit of a misnomer, even if Masuoka does represent a character bringing an understanding of "the light" to a group living in the shadows.  Indeed, it is far more inclined to pull from the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, particularly since the narrative does have a winding maze like quality about it and the descent into the labyrinth is rather obvious.  Masuoka, however, is far from the valiant figure of Theseus who manages to slay a minotaur and win the love of the girl.  Instead, Masuoka is almost a hybrid of the two tales, a man questing a deeper understanding of perception by coming to face that which is truly frightening, hoping to share in the vision of the suicidal man, thus becoming hyper aware of the world that surround him.  Masuoka certainly achieves this quest, but it is also at the cost of much of the world around him, clearly not the most healthy of individuals Masuoka shells himself up in his home, clearly malnourished and decidedly lacking in proper hygiene.  It is not until his ability to sequester himself from the world around him is question, via his wife whose presence inexplicably emerges into the narrative that things truly take a turn.  The Prozac popping Masuoka tosses away his pills, affording him a new awareness of his surroundings, realizing that even the most normal seeming of individuals are existing in a state of fractured self, one that is tied to the digital world in ways that are visible.  The quickly maddening Masuoka also begins to pick up the creatures navigate the liminal space of the world both through the lens of his film camera, as well as in the shadows of the street, his psychosis, or perhaps his "transcendence" into darkness proving the necessary lens to capture the world in a new and decidedly troublesome way.  This is only one element within all the other considerations at work in Marebito, including narratives of voyeurism, depression, the place of technology in modern Japan and relationships in a broad scale.  It works on these levels brilliantly and jarringly.

Key Scene:  The walking through the streets of Tokyo when Masuoka's perceptions begin to falter is haunting, in a way only digital filmmaking could invoke.

This DVD is pretty cheap on Amazon, but it might still be worth renting first, particularly since I am still uncertain as to whether or not this is actually a brilliant film.

Together, We Can Turn This World To Fucking Rust: Testuo, The Iron Man (1989)

I should begin by explaining why I have been a bit less consistent in blog posts over the past two weeks or so.  Firstly, I decided to do the 100 films for June challenge which has meant keeping a pretty consistent viewing schedule going, one that has taken up much more time than I expected, particularly since I included a considerable amount of films that were on the lengthier side.  I would think about posting and then get distracted by a back-to-back feature of some daunting two hour works.  This, of course, is only half the reason, since I still find myself allotted with a good bit of time in between.  Aside from my regular summer job I have also been given the incredibly fortunate opportunity to be part of a upcoming book, in which I will have an academic article published in and it has meant doing some heavy duty research and the like, again taking up more time than planned.  I am being vague with it until it is a certainty, but once that is official you better believe I will be posting in regards to it her on the blog.  All that out of the way I have come with a film so intensely its own and indicative of the possibilities of post-modern cinema as to assure it would be a great cinematic experience for me, made all the more excellent by it being one of the classics of post-sixtes Japanese cinema, while also existing before the big push towards J-horror in recent years.  The film I am referring to is the maddening and demented, industrially fueled Tetsuo, the Iron Man, directed by Shinya Tsukamoto and had been a film that was long on my shame list for films that I had yet to encounter.  I knew I needed to see it upon it also receiving mention on The Story of Film documentary and boy am I glad I finally made it around to this work.  It is parts David Lynch paranoia in human interaction, part Cronenbergian sexual/bodily violence nightmare and even pulls heavily from Teshigahara, for some of its more oeneric, ghastly elements that are heavily influenced by its Japanese cultural milieu.  While I can begin to draw these deserved comparisons, Tetsuo still very much stands as its own work, one with such a fevered editing pace and visually jarring schizophrenic nature that it is really a surprise the film has not been championed as a horror classic all its own.

Tetsuo, the Iron Man begins with images of a man known only through the reveal of the closing credits to be The Metal Fetishist.  Played by the director, The Metal Fetishist is shown running pieces of metal ocrros his teeth and jabbing pieces of steel into his exposed flesh, until he realizes that these actions have allowed for maggots to invade his wounds.  Disgusted the fetishist runs out into the street and is immediately rundown by a driver and his girlfriend, simply known as The Man (Tomorowo Taguchi) and The Woman (Kei Fujiwara).  Fearing for his well-being and the trouble that could be caused by the vehicular manslaughter they dump the fetishist's body into a ravine and go on with their life as though it did not occur, however, when The Man begins to notice tiny pieces of metal protruding through his face, as though it were beard stubble, it becomes clear that the fetishist has moved beyond the grave to exact a physical revenge upon his murderer.  The man, who is then shown attempting, unsuccessfully, to retain some normalcy at his life in business, as well as with his relationship to his girlfriend, begins to have his body taken even more over by the metal, which grows out through intravenous means and even begins to reproduce itself in the form of sexual organs, all to the dismay of the few onlookers throughout the film, as well as the viewers.  Eventually, after a frightening nightmare in which The Man's girlfriend takes on her own metal form, his evolving body reacts by destroying the theoretical threat of The Woman in a violently sexual manner, followed almost immediately by the emergence of the fetishist from the newly laid corpse.  The Man, now completely formed into The Iron Man begins a battle with the fetishist over the industrial and urban spaces of Japan eventually merging into one collective bodily form that agrees to undertake the task of destroying the entire world by turning it into rust.  The new form more insane and layered in various extremities takes to the streets of Japan at a frenetic pace as the term GAME OVER appropriately flashes upon the screen.

The body transformed and mutated is certainly something that is not unfamiliar to this blog, particularly as it is tied to deeply troubling psychological aspects, as is the case in a beloved film of mine I'm A Cyborg But That's OK (also of which I plan to juxtapose with Tetsuo for a presentation), nor is it entirely new to the world of cinema itself, stretching at least back to the themes of Fritz Lang's Metropolis which looks at the possibilities of alteration and simulacra when considering the human body.  Of course, what makes Tetsuo so particularly engaging is that it takes this theme and these images which are decidedly entrenched within the realm of science fiction and appropriates them to be both within their original genre framework, while also reflecting upon what spaces of the horrific and grotesque, one might even say carnivalesque that a cyborg body could inhabit.  Furthermore, when extending this idea of cyborg, one must remember that it is often the case, narratively speaking, that these human-like robots are made entirely of synthetic materials which are metals and the like altered to appear to be the anatomy of a human body.  A case could certainly be made that in Tetsuo the exact opposite is occurring, wherein The Man's body is taking its fleshy human parts and altering them to achieve a degree of metallic perfection, or a fetishistic ideal, helping to explain the decidedly sexual nature of many of the encounters, or more aptly put confrontations in this film.  Much like the aforementioned Cronenberg films this invasion comes at the aftermath of some sort of high-level guilt experienced by a character, whether it be the failure to protect something or a forced and unsuccessful repression of natural desires, in the case of Tetsuo it appears to be some bizarre combination of the two.  The Iron Man transformation occurs as a result of the paranoia and guilt that emerges after committing a murder, even if accidental and this troubling occurrence, allows for other walls to be let down, particularly tumultuous and tense relations with those close, ones that can lead to violent and penetrating actions that range from emotionally harmful to physically violent.  Tetsuo is as much a metaphor as it is experimental art, moving, much like the title character between the emotive concerns for a simple existence and the industrialized demand for constant growth and upward expansion at the cost of nothing.

Key Scene:  The rust and stainless steel monologue is powerful stuff.

The DVD's available are both out of print, therefore they catch a lofty price, however, one is available on Netflix and is definitely worth renting.

I'm Sorry, Mommy Was Wrong: The Red Shoes (2009)

I was a bit bummed as to not waiting to include the Powell-Pressburger film The Red Shoes into this month of films, however, I was able to find a film that I assumed only shared the name of the British classic in a South Korean film that I had been longing to see of the same name.  While it is certainly not a remake, or a homage for that manner, it does appear to borrow heavily from the Anderson fairy tale of the original, particularly in the element of a pair of shoes being the jumping off point for an individuals descent into madness.  While The Red Shoes is not the greatest South Korean film I have come across, it is not entirely an awful film to watch, although it is incredibly graphic and quite intense, dipping into some deeply scary imagery in its closing moments.  Yet, even in its imperfections, it adheres to many of the experimental, non-linear, culturally provocative and revolutionary imagery that makes it such a fruitful national cinema to discuss.  The film makes a perfect addition to this month of films because it makes considerable use of women in major roles, all be it, quite problematic ones, and does a great job of considering the negative manner with which vanity and a lust for consumer goods intrude upon women's attempts to navigate and already unwelcoming society.  It is a film that makes sure viewers are aware of how mentally distraught the various characters are, drawing their problems from a variety of external forces as well as pent-up internalized issues.  The filmic space explodes and clashes with the various issues as they relate the the individual and the collective within the film, often in highly expressionistic manners, while at other times being definitively grotesque.  It is a film with a clear message, or call against, vanity and internalization of women's lack in regard to illogical male standards and does a masterful job of suggesting its generational transference, particularly when its issues are purposefully and problematically repressed.  If it were not an already absolutely convoluted plot the insistence Yong-Gyun Kim, the inclusion of the singular panoptic eye into the narrative manages to make its theoretical execution marvelous.

The film focuses on Sun-jae (Kim Hye-soo) a woman who has just left her husband after discovering him to be cheating on her while she was taking their daughter to school.  Frustrated and stunned, Sun-jae takes her and her daughter and moves into an apartment, hoping to make a new life, one that will have her find success opening an optical care center.  Yet, when she returns home to pick up a few more items she also sees a pair of red (pink, if we are to be honest) shoes that she found on a subway.  As she moves these shoes into her home, it becomes quite evident that they also bring a terrible past along with them, one that spirals Sun-jae into a state of mind filled with vanity and greed, finding it hard to navigate the world of caring for a daughter, opening a business and getting back into the dating world.  Sun-jae's daughter, and eventually a friend of Sun-jae's fall victim to the curse of the red shoes, which leads Sun-jae's daughter to act out against her mother and for her friend to become possessed by an unseen spirit while admiring a wedding gown.  Realizing the terrible problems that the shoes causes, Sun-jae attempts to discard of the shoes, only to have them return to her inexplicably, in some cases in the hands of her daughter, who spouts incoherent claims about a dead husband in the process.  The fact that she is incapable of ridding herself of the shoes, leads her and her boyfriend to attempt to find the origin of the cursed footwear, leading to a realization that the shoes were tied to a young woman whose own abuses led to her death and resulting quest for some degree of vengeance.  In the end, Sun-jae's inextricable attachment to the shoes mean that she must accept the death given to her at the hands of the vengeful ghost, which occurs in an intense and violent manner.  The narrative then closes in on Sun-jae's daughter as she stares into a mirror practicing her dance moves, yet her darkened eyes and pale visage, suggest her own attachment to the curse as well.

Despite being a narrative complex film, there are some theoretical moments that draw upon ideas of exploitation and objectification that justify the film receiving my praise.  Firstly, the deconstruction of consumerism and beauty myths as a problematic relationships is dealt with excellentlly, whether it be Sun-jae's own self-worth changing upon putting make-up on and appropriating Westernized beauty looks, or when her friend longs for a wedding-dress that is so skinny that it would prove unwearable to a much smaller person.  Their own desires to appease their negative body image issues result in their very real destruction, an undeniable commentary on body dysmorphia and its negative affects in can place on women.  Each woman, even the daughter, believe that by possessing the shoes they will somehow be able to comfortably navigate their respective spaces, even in the case of Sun-jae who simply wants to be admired by her father again, whose leaving she is far too young to truly conceptualize.  Mirrors also factor heavily into the film, whether it be with Sun-jae's constant obsession with her blind eye for a considerable portion of the narrative, or her own daughter at ballet class lingering on her body perhaps longer than necessary, a likely result of the young age at which beauty ideals are thrust upon children.  The eye, as a ever present figure also serves as a great metaphor within the film, in a panoptic, or all-seeing, manner the presence of the eye serves as a constant point of judgement for the women in the film, their looks and bodies always in question and constant judgement, even in their private spaces and internal thoughts.  It is not an irony lost that Sun-jae's seemingly admiring and progressive boyfriend paints the eye, because even if he thinks himself a standup guy he, nonetheless, engages in objectification and openly considers Sun-jae's addition of makeup and Western beauty norms a good thing.  It is a film brimming with beauty myth criticism and has a ton more to be read into upon later revisits.

Key Scene:  When Sun-jae's sanity finally splits, the visual metaphor is fantastic and disconcerting and made the narratively complex movie come together magically.

This is likely a rental for most people, I will personally keep a copy for myself, but can easily understand doing otherwise.

I Like You...: V/H/S (2012)

I will be the first to admit that this was the most anticipated of the films I would be reviewing this month and was quite worried when my car got put in the shop limiting me from going to the theaters to see this  film, however, thanks to its somewhat limited release and a watch instantly option on Amazon I was able to catch up with this found footage anthology with much elation.  I am aware that there are two camps for this film, the first claiming that is lack of plot and non-notable performances result in a weak film overall, while another camp claims it to be the savior of the horror genre and a veritable renaissance in scary movie creation.  I have firmly centered myself with the latter group, because not only did I find this conceptual horror film to be intensely scary, but it went far above any level of expectation I had formulated.  Sure some of the segments in the film are weaker than others, but overall each story commits to an idea or form within the horror genre and creates a suspense driven narrative of ten to fifteen minutes that had me more than leaning out of my seat.  I was taking notes on the film for this post but completely forgot about it within moments, the work was far to intriguing and certainly to scary to become distracted by what would invariably be half-assed comments on the social nature of the film.  If anything we as a film viewing community, particularly those favoring horror films, should be praising the efforts of such a film, regardless of what you may think of their execution.  The directors Adam Wingard, David Bruckern, Ti West, Glenn McQuaid, Joe Swanberg and the group Radio Silence deserve acknowledgement if only for trying to breath some fresh life into a flailing genre.  V/H/S purely on a experimental level is something to be enjoyed with great pleasure and a certain level of psychological discomfort and remember this film has been said to induce vomiting and black-outs, even if it is purely because of the rattling camera work and onslaught of color bars and film tricks.

As noted the film is series of "found footage" pieces, all centered within one story titled Tape 51, in which a group of found footage enthusiasts are hired to retrieve an unexplained tape from a house.  Upon arrival to this house they find a man dead on a chair and a handful of televisions displaying either blue screens or electrical snow.  Perusing the house one of the members decides to pop in one of the tapes into his camera thus beginning the series of the films.  The first work Amateur Night follows a group of college males, one equipped with a glasses cam as they attempt to pick up women in a night club only to return home to video tape the entire conquest.  One of the women they meet named Lily (Hannah Fierman) is particularly attached to a member of the group starring blankly at him wile uttering the phrase "I Like You"  over and over again.  A bit paranoid the group agrees to take her and a few other women back to their hotel, only to discover that Lily is not exactly a woman and a creature far more disturbing an event that proves cataclysmic to the whole group.  The second tape title Second Honeymoon follows a guy named Sam (Joe Swanberg) and his wife Stephanie (Sophia Takal) as they travel through Arizona on a trip to celebrate their marriage, all seems uneventful until a young woman awkwardly asks them for a ride one night, only to break into their hotel later in the night and steal their money, an act that is caught on tape by the girl as she films it with their camera.  The next day leads to an awkward moment between Sam and Stephanie as they argue about money, an issue that becomes all the more intriguing when the young woman returns with a vengeance later that night.  The third story titled Tuesday the 17th follows a group of young people as they travel to the woods for a vacation, only to become the prey of some sort of spectral maddened assassin, however, what one would assume to be a group of unsuspecting youth is turned on its head when one girl admits that she has experienced this all before.  The next, and perhaps my favorite has the lengthy title of The Sick Thing That Happened To Emily When She Was Younger is a webcam based video in which Emily (Helen Rogers) confesses to her doctor boyfriend about having an insatiable desire to itch a bump on her arm, something he promises to look at upon return from school.  Later that night Emily explains that she has been seeing ghosts and is able to catch one of them, a small child, on camera, leading her boyfriend to agree to help with her confrontation with the ghost.  This confrontation is far more than Emily bargains for and we come to realize that her relationship with her boyfriend is also not quite what we expected.  Finally, a tape called 10/31/98 focuses on a group of young men, one dressed as a nanny cam, providing for the found footage video, as they travel to a Halloween party.  This party upon arrival appears to be empty and the group discovers what they assume to be an intricately designed haunted house, yet when they get to the attic of the house and attempt to join in what they think to be a fake occult ceremony the falseness of the entire experience is undermined and the group undertakes an attempted rescuing of one of the houses victims.  These films compose the main narrative of the film, yet it should be no surprise that the video about finding this video also has its own twists of horror as well, something that I dare not ruin because it is yet another moment of brilliant metacinema scares.

A lot of the complaints directed at this film are about its lack of scary qualities, as they relate to its unexplained narrative and little to no back story.  I would argue that it is precisely this lack of logical connection that makes this work indeed unsettling.  Imagine if you will that you were to randomly buy a set of unmarked VHS tapes from a local thrift store as a means to do some found footage experimental work, say like the folks over at Everything Is Terrible.  Most of the stuff would probably be dubbed television shows or awkward home videos, but what if you were to find something like a group of kids being murdered in the wood.  The context would not be explained and under no circumstances would you find this not scary.  Conceptually I think this is what V/H/S was aiming for, an attempt at creating something that would genuinely reflect a piece of "found footage" of the paranormal degree.  While I am certainly a huge fan of the Paranormal Activity franchise it does bother me at times that the narratives spend so much time explaining a back story and having character be a bit to keen on occult and supernatural occurrences.  Sure the film has a slew of social criticisms, whether it be the condemnation of male sexual dominance, something that often leads to date rape or group sexual abuse and another film makes a blatant commentary on the effects financial strains can have on the unity of a marriage.  Hell one of the works could even be seen as making an backhanded commentary on women's reproductive rights, but they all exist primarily as horror works.  To me it is very much like The Shining, in that so much of the horror is such because it has not logical explanation for occurring and this is definitely what makes V/ H/S so intense.

Key Scene:  There is a moment during Amateur Night in which the camera pans across the bar and catches Lily starring into the camera, it is really really creepy and more than sets up the intensity that will consume the remainder of the film.

Buy this movie.  Buy your friend this movie.  Buy anybody you love this movie...although it may cause them to question why you love them.

Experiments in Film: Begotten (1990)

What kind of blog month at Cinemalacrum would it be if I were not to include at least one outright experimental film in my set of horror films.  I vowed to include more experimental films in my blog at the new year and was doing relatively well for a few months before failing a bit, as such I have included E. Elias Merhige's Begotten this month as one of the definitive experimental horror films of the past few decades.  A horrific film in every sense of the word, Begotten manages to make viewers uncomfortable both in what they can contextualize in what is being shown, as well as troubling over what they cannot make out, let alone understand.  Incorporating black and white negative images of gore and violent sexual acts, Merhige manages to completely eviscerate any sense of comfort upon viewing this film, which is allegedly a reconsideration of the creation stories found in Genesis, as well as a few other global religions.  At no point is it evident that Merhige attempts to comfort his viewers with images of safe familiarity, even when we are clearly show something like a mother nature figure it is only quickly disrupted by either jarring angles, awkward encounters with sexuality or a saturation of the screen with some degree of blood and filth.  Even the presence of  a soundtrack manages to complicate the viewing experience, as many of the sounds only consist of out of place cricket noises or disturbing gargling and sloshing sounds.  One could got at lengths about what is possibily commented upon within Begotten, but it is clear that its main course of action is to both deconstruct and undermine the seemingly high amount of respect attached to these ancient religious figures, by depicting them engaged in some of the most debasing and dehumanizing acts possible, not only stripping of their deity powers, but even the basis of human relations as well.

At the onset of the film, Begotten posits a statement concerning the dismantling of language traditions and memory, suggesting that such incantations of the past are dead, going further to suggest that they shall flicker away like a flame.  With this in mind we can at a very simple level attempt to appropriate the manner in which the images formulate and function upon the screen.  All of the imagery is black and white, and the construction of the scenes often causes their to be a clear delineation between the whites and blacks on the screen, perhaps making reference to textual history, something the film seems adamant about destroying.  In fact, the only time the film seems to offer images of grey, or any other merger of black and white is when the shot cuts to a skyline, perhaps positioning the questions to why such grotesque actions occur within the hands of spiritual inquiry.  Of course, the film manages to dismiss this as it is never ended with just a skyline, but always followed by more images of horror and violence.  In fact, if Begotten manages to provide any insight into what one should consider about religion it is that it is a misogynist, patriarchal and violent oppressive force that takes pride in slaughter and forceful sexual dominance, and for it to be discontinued one needs to return to a natural world, but this natural rebirth necessarily requires a large death of sorts, one that, according to Begotten, is all but metaphorical.

Begotten excels in being disturbingly beautiful, while the imagery is certainly problematic and at times nearly unwatchable it is interjected with some truly provocative and awe-inducing cinematography that makes the viewing worth one's while.  It should also be noted that Susan Sontag thinks this to be one of the ten most important modern films, a point of high praise if I say so myself.

For more information on E. Elias Merhige, or to watch the film online click on either of the screenshots below: