Another Z movie...

Blood of the Beast, by Georg Koszulinski (2003).

2012 marks the end of the Third World War. One third of the total population of the globe died from the chemical warfare, 98% of the surviving male population is sterile, and cloning becomes the principal mode of reproduction. "All is for the best in the best of all possible worlds" until 2031, where problems arise. Clones of the first strand start exhibiting strange behavior: nose bleed, epileptic convulsions, necrosis of the front lobe, hyper-aggressivity, and a certain taste for human flesh: in short, they become zombies.
Three groups of characters are followed in parallel: three hikers in their early twenties, one of them has been bitten to the arm by a zombie; three youngsters fleeing town and trying to catch up with the hikers; a father and his teenage daughter, who found refuge with a Southern Baptist preacher in the countryside. Meanwhile, chaos reigns in town, and some First Strand inmates escaped from the local military base.

Shot on DV with a microbudget around Gainesville, FL and the Ocala National Forest, Blood of the Beast is rather trying. Forget the Blair Witch Project meets the Night of the Living Dead plot, the inexperience of the actors that give rather terrible performances, and the overall very cheap-looking aspect, that's sort of part of the charm of the movie. My beef is simple : the whole movie reeks a UFL film school graduating project. As writer-director-editor-actor, Koszulinski aims at artsyness: slow-motions (oh, Atom Heart Mother), surimpressions, experimental soundtrack, weird camera angles supposed to emphasize the confusion of the protagonists, pseudo-philosophical consideration, heavy handed references (Brave New World, Murnau's Nosferatu...)... The end of the movie is characteristic: shot with a night-vision lens, the scenes are silent, the dialogs appearing as inserts. Call me square or bourgeois, but effects of this kind do not bring anything to the story and look gratuitous and fake. The movie tries far too hard for its own good (and the pleasure of the audience). According to imdb, it was Koszulinski's first full-length. Since then, he released a few other fictions and documentaries, that I haven't seen yet. I can only hope that they avoided the artistic pitfalls of this Blood of the Beast.

As you guessed, I didn't enjoy the movie at all. But I didn't enjoy hating it or laughing at it either, on the contrary. I feel actually compelled to support the approach: after all, it's a first movie, it's indie, and we all know what a dreadful place the world would be without alternatives to mass cultural products. Despite all its shortcomings, Blood of the Beast exists as a piece. That should be enough. Hey, not everybody can be Marker. So forget what I said, forget this movie, and keep it going.

Return of the Z movies

As a European hipster, I'm naturally attracted to foreign movies, and Japanese ones in particular. That's basically the reason why the other day I rented two DVDs at my local store. I should have stayed home.

Actually, the first movie wasn't that bad. "Suicide Circle" (by Sion Sono, 2002) retraces the events following the mass suicide of 54 teenage girls who jumped in front of a train in the Shinjuku station. The police starts investigating, and begins to suspect some foul play as more suicides take place, and strange hints pop up on the web. Would there be some connections with a famous tween idol band ? Enough for the plot.

The movie is rather uneven, to say the least. Some scenes are gratuitously gruesome, such as the opening sequence, where the Tokyo subway gets flooded by the blood of the schoolgirls (fake blood must have represented a significant portion of the film budget), or when puppies are trampled on to death by a peroxided singing maniac on platform boots. On the other side, some elements of the story are worth pondering, for example the critiques of fads, formatted pop culture, generation gaps... if they were developed and not skimmed over.

However, the biggest turn off remains the abstruse plot. The last 15 minutes do not solve anything and raise actually more questions: who is behind the band ? Behind the suicides ? Behind the script ?


No, we have a real winner with Kibakichi, by Tomo-o Haraguchi (2004). The back of the DVD says it all: "half man, half werewolf, all samurai". Bingo !

It starts like a regular samurai movie a la Yojimbo. A lone traveler is attacked by ruffians, but quickly dispatches them ad patres with his mad skillz. Our hero (Kibakichi) then meets a foreboding blind beggar, fights ninja turtles and eventually finds his way to a small village inhabited by yokai. These flesh eating monsters, disguised as humans, are all but one big family lead by a guy looking a lot like James Earl Jones as Thulsa Doom. The yokai have a deal with a rising element in the local human clan: get rid of yakuzas and you'll get a nice place where you can leave in peace instead of being hunted down. Of course, the audience can guess straight away that the humans are double-faced: they wear long black leather uniforms that must have been designed by Hugo Boss in the 30es, which is always a bad sign. Kibakichi, as a true lone traveler, decides to leave, but quickly returns to fight alongside the yokai as they are attacked by the Gatlin-gun-carrying humans. Little did they know that Kibakichi was in fact a werewolf ! After growing himself some hair and fighting a betraying cyclops, Kibakichi eventually kills the human leader, who explodes (never carry a grenade when you don't have a head). End of the movie. I voluntarily forget some side plots.

This movie is really terrible. The genre confusion (samurai + latex monsters + gun-wielding badasses), the ridiculous costumes, the ultra-cheap special effects (remember the tunnel of horror in the local funfair ? same thing), the 2c message of tolerance towards our friends the monsters, the mandatory sex scene (where as a bonus the girl transforms into a giant spider), the 15 minutes of explosions... So many reasons to complain that I don't know where to start. So I won't. And I'll skip the sequel.

Anybody has a spare brain ? Mine melted...

Control freak

A few days ago, I went to our local art-house (Athens Ciné) and caught Anton Corbijn's "Control" on big screen. I'm still awed by the performance of the lead actors, Sam Riley (as Ian Curtis) and Samantha Morton (as Debbie Curtis). Riley in particular does an excellent job in portraying Curtis from a Bowie fan, stolen pill-popping teenager to married man to rock star, his struggles with fame, family life and fits of epilepsy. His natural was just amazing. All the live Joy Division songs of the movie were actually performed by the actors: commendable choice that made the experience even more enjoyable. The image was also splendid, Corbijn did well to shoot in color before a transfer to black and white. The last shot of the black smoke coming out of the crematorium was a perfect ending.
Of course, it was a bit difficult not to compare the movie to "24 hour party people", which also partly describes the period Warsaw-Joy Division: same period, same characters, same anecdotes. There was even a cross-reference: in "Control", in a scene taking place after the Bury gig riot, Tony Wilson tries to cheer-up Curtis by telling him that after all, he's not the band leader of the Fall: Riley played Mark E. Smith in "24 hour party people". The respective goals of the two films were quite different, "Control" focusing on Curtis, when "24 hour party people" dealt with Factory Records. Both are great movies, "Control" is more subdued and feels deeper emotionally.

On a personal note I wonder whether the hypnosis scene was really necessary. And Alexandra Maria Lara, who plays Annick, the Belgian mistress, really reminded me of an old flame of mine, which was a bit melancholy. But you probably don't care, and that's quite OK with me.





(Photo (C) by Dean Rogers)

Oms by the Dozen

Instead of Yo La Tengo (cf previous post), I attended a projection of "La Planète Sauvage", by Topor and Laloux, music of Goraguer, at Flicker. On a planet far, far away populated by giant blue humanoids, the Draags, humans are pe(s)ts, but adapt and overcome their condition. Harmony ensues.

Words are lacking, as the charm of the movie relies mostly in its drawings and its soundtrack, more than in its dialogs (some neologism-filled techno-babble, that indeed sets the atmosphere but is painful to listen to). Knowledge sets you free, and acceptance is the only way to survival. The violent universe is beautifully depicted by Topor's illustrations, and combined to the soundtrack makes for a very touching psychedelic experience. The kids loved it.

The movie was followed by another short of Topor and Laloux, "les Escargots" (1965). A farmer realizes that tears are the only way to make his salads grow. After using tricks such as onions, meaningful poetry and torture devices, he does succeed in growing the larger salads of the region. An infestation of snails destroys his harvest, and the near-by town as a bonus. It would be difficult to imagine a more acid yet engaging critic of the dangerous side effects of unbridled capitalism. The sexual innuendo of the snails eyes is particularly endearing.

A few artists performed after the projections: Dan Hole Pond and his live-programmed loops on tiny keyboard and tapes, not so unreminiscent of Boards of Canada, and Jason Ajemian's "Playing You to Sleep" from Chicago, on straight bass. Quite impressive both of them, quite suiting to the evening, but Sofie and Jude are calling me back...

No la tengo

The ridiculous pun in the title is of course a tribute to Yo La Tengo, playing a semi-acoustic show tonight at the Melting Point, with Kurt Wagner of Lambchop. The purchase of expensive tickets was briefly considered around Christmas time, but, eventually, nah. In any case, expect posts on some other famous Athens blogs.

However, I celebrated my own little way by re-watching Hal Hartley's "Surviving Desire". I was aware of this movie in the very early 90es, in the hay days of Hartley's fame on the indie circuit, having seen "Simple Men", "Trust", "The Unbelievable Truth", but never had a chance to actually watch it before last summer.

You know the plot: Jude (Martin Donovan) is a literature professor trying to find answers in books, one paragraph of Dostoevsky's the Brothers Karamazov in particular (Book 2, Chapter 4). He falls for Sofie (Mary B Ward), one of his students, they have a (very) short affair, she dumps him. 60 minutes of pure Hartley's charm: witty, overplayed dialogs that drift in the absurd, choreographies, indie rock, the boroughs, what else can you ask for ?

Retrospectively, I'm glad that the 20-year-old hipster from the early-90es missed the film, as he most likely wouldn't have connected as strongly with the character of Jude. Observing yourself falling in love with somebody far too young for you, half-heartedly resisting the crush, knowing far too well that the story will end up in tears (yours), but going for it nevertheless full blast, to end up dancing with strangers after the first kiss, is something that has to be actually experienced to be truly enjoyed.

"Never be frightened at your own faint-heartedness in attaining love... But active love is labour and fortitude, and for some people too, perhaps, a complete science."

Jude: Listen pal, you can't just waltz in here, use my toaster and spout universal truths without qualification!
(Henry smells something.)
Henry: What's that?
Jude: What?
Henry: You smell that?
Jude: Oh yeah.
Henry: (Sniffs) She's left her fragrance here.
Jude: That's it. Get out!
Henry: What about my toast?
Jude: Get out!