I'm obviously pacing myself with these shock movies, but here's five more. This installment features two of the most disgusting movies ever made, and I wanted to wait until I was actually in the mood to see them. The next five, along with some sort of baseball post, will be along eventually.
Martyrs (2008)- In another gruesome French film, two young women named Anna and Lucie (Morjana Alaoui and Mylene Jampanoi) seek revenge on the people who imprisoned and tortured Lucie when she was a child. Lucie is haunted by a grisly, vaguely female creature- the embodiment of her guilt over not rescuing the one person she had a chance to save when she escaped her captivity, as well as her fear that those days will return. When Lucie finds the guilty couple, the Belfonds, she murders them as well as their two children with a shotgun, then calls Anna for help when this doesn't subdue the 'creature'. All this takes place in the first fifteen minutes of the film. The purpose behind the Belfonds' actions is soon revealed: along with many others like them, the Belfonds did not seek to create victims but martyrs. Fully explained by a character's monologue (Show, don't tell. C'mon, everyone knows that), it ends up making some sense and providing a tenuous basis for the second half of the film. That said, everything from the moment Anna finds the secret basement till the end lands squarely in Pretentious Town for me. Even the ending, which is stunning, eye-popping, and impossible to unsee, is too far up its own ass to be as raw and nightmarish as it really should be. In some ways I'd prefer a popcorn slasher, because at least those movies don't lay claim to some sort of quasi-philosophical high ground. The better movies I have reviewed so far all use pain as the canvas, as an ever-present and unrelenting background factor upon which the story can be told. But in Martyrs pain and suffering are the paint, and the picture is of a seriously questionable greater purpose. I can sum that up by quoting a character from Funny Games. When asked "Why don't you just kill us?", he replies "You should never underestimate the value of entertainment." I think that's the right answer, and Martyrs is the wrong answer. I'm giving it a C, because while I didn't get a moment that stayed with me, I can see how some people might. Some people might also appreciate the horror makeup and effects more than I did.
Kill List (2011): In that this is a British action/suspense movie, it already sticks out like a sore thumb amongst all this over-the-line horror. It also stands out because 98% or so is a comfortable watch as such. A hitman screws up, and after eight months, he needs money so he gets back in the game for one last big job. And somehow, Kill List makes that worthwhile. Maybe it's that he needs his money to feed his family. Maybe it's the thick English and Irish accents that make everyone sound like they're talking about soccer all the time. Or maybe it's the fact that, despite the old "One last score" schtick, the plot is complex and engaging. As a change of pace I enjoyed it pretty well, and would give it a B on its merits as an action movie. But that's not what this project is about. It's about being affected, in the right amounts at the right time. It's about hating the filmmakers after you see it, but grudgingly admitting that they did a good job on it. Some movies maintain a high level of intensity throughout for effect, and you can argue Kill List at least attempts this. Then some movies are known for the lines they cross in specific scenes. Kill List does break a taboo or two, and does so unflinchingly. So it's got a little something going for it. But was any of it done with any apparent intent, be it to entertain or make a point? No, not really. C+.
A Serbian Film (2010): Based on what I read, A Serbian Film seemed like the kind of movie most people wouldn't be able to make it through. I am not most people. It's about Milos, a retired male porn star who's offered an insane amount of money to star in one last movie- but the director refuses to tell him anything except how much money he'll make. To its credit, even if the explicit sex and violence is too much, the first half of the film raises a lot of good points for discussion. The director of the movie-in-the-movie sees Serbia as a backward, useless, moribund place and believes that it would take something extraordinary to even get Serbia noticed. Even though I know very little about Serbia, the conversation on national identity is valid worldwide and it rings true. Another potent idea comes from a conversation between Milos and the porn director about the purpose of the adult film genre. The director's idea is to create something that transcends "Something losers who can't get laid can get off to", something with an emotional, psychological, possibly even spiritual component. I admire the vision, seeing as how 99.99999% of porn is utterly unambitious and I find it sad, but at this point the movie stops playing around with intelligent discourse and starts getting really screwed up. Milos is drugged repeatedly with bull aphrodisiac and speed, and if you can imagine something unspeakable, it's probably somewhere in the second half of A Serbian Film. After two particular scenes, I completely understood why "The film has been banned in Spain, Australia, New Zealand, Malaysia, and Singapore, rejected in Norway, and temporarily banned from screening in Brazil where a decision to repeal the film has not been made yet." (Wikipedia). If you're banned in Brazil, I think it's safe to say you've gone too far. But as I've always been one to test my own limits, and I'm no stranger to mental instability, my viewing experience is probably unique. I'd see something horrible happen and think "Yeah, I came up with that years ago. What else you got?" The great thing about this film is that it didn't run out of answers to that question until the credits started rolling. It's super-intense, perverse enough to be objectionable to just about everyone, and it goes completely off the rails into pure evil more than once . I don't know if I could look someone in the eye and justify the existence of A Serbian Film, but I don't have to. It gets an A.
Salo (or: The 120 Days of Sodom) (1957): I know I already un-recommended every movie from this project, but I'll do it again for this one in particular. Do not watch. It gets an F from me. Now that we've gotten that out of the way... Set in northern Italy toward the end of World War II, four of the most powerful men in the nation gather at a secluded mansion. Joining them are a cadre of young men who fill the dual role of guards and sexual playthings; nine teenage boys and nine teenage girls, kidnap victims all; and the "Storytellers", four older women who we quickly find out are lifelong sex workers. Over the course of weeks, the aristocrats live out all their most depraved fantasies while degrading, torturing, and abusing the eighteen adolescents. The violence is raw, the sex acts are explicit, and the film crosses one line I'd rather never see crossed. Not gonna lie; I threw up a little. First time one of these movies has done that. Now, I appreciate that the world was a radically different place in 1957, and the unabashed pansexuality was probably just as scandalous as the violence at the time. But from my point of view, it was just scenes of unpleasant sex interspersed with scenes of abject filth interspersed with scenes of unchecked sadism. Sure, I could describe A Serbian Film the same way, but Salo never gets the viewer to invest in its characters like A Serbian Film does. You're appalled at the lack of humanity at first, but when the perpetrators are so nonchalant and the victims so resigned and dazed, it stops being shocking and starts getting pointless and repetitive. The fifth time someone is dragged to a private rape room is less horrifying than the first, basically. Even as the aristocrats each take a house-spouse from among the teenage boys, nobody in the movie shows a distinct personality or anything to distinguish himself from his fellow perps or victims. It's a heartless film, and unlike most heartless films, it doesn't even beat you over the head with a pompous pseudo-intellectual message. If it's supposed to be a statement about absolute power corrupting absolutely, that isn't news. If you didn't know that already, then a psychopath who looks like Trapper John brutalizing teenagers with a creepy, tight-lipped grin on his face probably isn't going to help you understand. And if you're incapable of imagining how limitless power manifests, such that you need to watch someone else's idea of it, then I'd suggest you start using your imagination more. Your ideas might still be filthy, but at least that's filth you can call your own.
Snowtown (2011): Also known as The Snowtown Murders, this one is based on the true story of Australia's most notorious serial killer, John Bunting. Sixteen-year-old Jamie, his brothers, and his mom live in a South Australia slum, surrounded by pedophiles, drug addicts, and other winners. One such winner is Jamie's older brother, who rapes him with some regularity. Things seem to turn a corner when his mother meets John, a well-spoken and intelligent man who gets along well with her kids despite his vocal homophobia and other prejudices. When the less-desirable elements of the community start vanishing, Jamie suspects John immediately. Those suspicions are confirmed when John shows him two bodies,one a transvestite, the other, Jamie's junkie friend. The next victim is Jamie's older brother, and after John and his sidekick torture him, Jamie is the one to finish him off in an act of mercy. More acts of torture and murder follow. In his feature-length debut, director Justin Kurzel tells the story with a quiet calm that belies the horror going on- to the film's detriment, in my opinion. In one early scene, John agitates his friends and neighbors until they all sound like Fox News guests, but nobody but John thinks there's anything to it other than blowing off steam. After about twenty minutes of What's Eating Gilbert Grape-style small town hopelessness, the gory truth starts to come out, one corpse at a time. Then we're right back to small town hopelessness until the next victim is chosen. I felt like Kurzel buried the lead a little with this; it's so matter-of-fact, quiet, and dispassionate there's no chance of getting sucked into the twisted world of the serial killer. The graphic scenes of violence don't so much provide shock value as much as confusion, because the film doesn't really establish any sort of tension build. It's just like, "Oh, look, they tore that guy's toenail out. Good for them." Good for my mental health, bad for the purposes of this project. I give it a C-.
