Gozu (2003)

AKA Gokudô kyôfu dai-gekijô: Gozu (極道恐怖大劇場 牛頭, Yakuza Horror Theatre: Gozu)

Along with being exhaustingly prolific, one of the things that makes Takashi Miike such an exciting discovery for film fans is his versatility and the unpredictability that comes with it. Despite helming several films a year and covering every genre imaginable, Miike still manages to leave a signature, oftentimes insane stamp on every single film no matter how different it is to the one that came before it. To give a good example of this, 2001 alone saw the release of films like Visitor Q, Ichi the Killer and The Happiness of the Katakuris. Quite the range. There’s also not many directors who would even think of approaching yakuza crime films like Fudoh: The New Generation (1996), The City of Lost Souls (2000) or the Dead or Alive trilogy (1999-2002) the way Miike does. This diversity is ever present in Miike’s horror films be it Audition (1999), The Happiness of the Katakuris (that is if the film is even classifiable at all in terms of genre), One Missed Call (2003), Imprint (2006) and most recently Over Your Dead Body (2014). Then there’s Gozu. Made the same year as One Missed Call which again is a perfect example of just how varied Miike is while working in the same genre, Gozu is one of Miike’s most abstract films along with being one of his best and like most everything in Miike’s oeuvre, mind-bogglingly original.

Low ranking yakuza Minami is given the job of killing Ozaki, one of his superiors in fear of Ozaki’s mental instability being detrimental for business. Minami isn’t exactly up to the task though as Ozaki is very much a mentor to Minami and the two share a deep bond. A mishap on the road however leads to Ozaki being inadvertently mortally wounded, although after Minami makes a pit stop to clear his thoughts Ozaki’s body mysteriously disappears from Minami’s car. Completely baffled, Minami sets out on the increasingly surreal journey to find Ozaki encountering one strange character and situation after another while also uncovering some truths about himself along the way.

Given the material, its inevitable that Gozu (literally “Cow head”) would be compared to the works of the David’s Lynch and Cronenberg and Miike himself acknowledges those comparisons. There are indeed moments where Gozu resembles films like Lynch’s Lost Highway (1997) and Cronenberg’s Naked Lunch (1991) however ultimately the brand of surrealism on display in Gozu is quintessentially Miike. Here Miike takes the slow burn approach ala Audition and fuses it with yakuza elements along with the absurdity of The Happiness of the Katakuris sans the musical numbers. Some of the situations Minami finds himself in are so over the top in their bizarreness that the film crosses over into comedic territory while still being unsettling due to their sheer oddness. And odd is it ever. Men with half the pigment in their face missing, a deranged brother and lactating sister inn keeping team, the titular cow headed demon, these are the types that inhabit the world of Gozu, not to mention a climatic scene which will give even the most jaded viewers something they’ve never seen before. Like Lynch, Miike often gets accused of weirdness for weirdness sake by those who can’t see past the abstractions and there’s much more to Gozu than a bunch of random strangeness, although it is the bewildering nature of the film that makes Minami’s search for Ozaki all the more engaging and the flashbacks of Minami and Ozaki also make the film a non too subtle exploration of Minami coming to grips with his own sexuality.

Originally Gozu was never intended to play in theatres as it was designed a “V-Cinema” direct to video/DVD project in Japan. Thankfully that didn’t happen as although the film did end up going direct to video in Japan, the film ended up playing at the Director’s Fortnight in Cannes and it wound up playing other festivals as well such as the Toronto International Film Festival and South By Southwest. The film actually did have a theatrical run in the US as well. Perhaps nowadays direct to video films aren’t looked down upon as much as they may have been in the past with the numerous changes in the film industry but in Japan V-Cinema hasn’t really had the stigma attached to it as it has in other countries, although Miike claims (perhaps jokingly) in an interview on Cinema Epoch’s 2-disc special edition DVD of Gozu that his video productions are usually seen only by young kids in the Japanese countryside. Thankfully that wasn’t the case with Gozu otherwise they’re be a good chance of it never leaving Japan. As is the case with the majority of Miike’s genre efforts, Gozu may only appeal to a select audience and it may even be a bit much to take for some Miike fans which is saying something but it’s a testament to one of the most consistently interesting and creative cinematic minds still working today.

Imprint (2006)

When attempting to discuss a film with a large reputation there’s always the conundrum of not regurgitating what’s already been said numerous times before ad nauseam. This is especially true of films who’s reputation resulted out of a controversy. Controversial films and films that have been dubbed “shocking” or disturbing” are interesting in that there’s always the chance of a film relying on nothing but shock value and as a result are rather hollow. Then there are the films which push boundaries, break social taboos and are truly transgressive that clearly have something to say with an intelligence behind them. Films like Borowczyk’s The Beast (1975), Deodato’s Cannibal Holocaust (1980) and Cronenberg’s Crash (1996) immediately spring to mind. At this point the fate of Takashi Miike’s Imprint is near legendary. Originally intended to be the season one finale of Showtime’s Masters of Horror anthology series, the film was immediately banned from broadcast in the US. Due to the banning, Imprint became instantly notorious with many impatiently for the DVD release and wondering just how graphic the film really was and if it would live up to the hype. Miike proved once again to be one of the most fascinating and radical contemporary filmmakers with Imprint, one of the most unflinching and original horror films in recent memory, and a film which is so much more than simply shock value for shock value’s sake.

In 19th centaury Japan, Christopher (Billy Drago) an American journalist returns in search of his lost love, a prostitute named Komomo whom he once promised to take back to America with him one day. Upon arriving on a strange island, Christopher sees no sign of Komomo but is offered a variety of prostitutes to spend the night with. He chooses a nameless, disfigured woman (Yûki Kudô) who claims to have known Komomo. Christopher demands to know the truth about what happened to his love, although when the woman begins relating the fate of Komomo along with her own personal history, perhaps Christopher begins to regret ever coming back in the first place.

At heart, Imprint is a morose fable based on the idea of the extremities that love can lead some too, even willingly go insane, clearly a favorite theme of Miike’s. Miike does something interesting by telling the story in a sort of episodic nature where truth and lies become entwined and amazingly the film covers quite a bit of emotional ground despite its brief 63 minute running time so the effect is definitely akin to being hit by a bus once its over. That feeling is also aided immensely by Miike’s matter of fact presentation of what has made the film so notorious in the form of torture, aborted fetuses and a climatic reveal that even by Miike standards is completely mental and comes out of left field. Imprint is also a curious film in that despite taking place in the 19th centaury Miike’s astounding visual design incorporates influences from a variety of eras making it seems as if the film is existing outside of time. Also the fact that aside from the American Drago and Kudô who speaks perfect English, the rest of the Japanese cast are speaking phonetic English which oftentimes sounds incredibly “off” yet adds to the already odd tone of the film and the idea of the film taking place in some surreal netherworld. It also has to be pointed out that Drago turns overacting into an art but considering that most everything in this world Miike creates is exaggerated to a certin degree Drago’s histrionics make perfect sense.

Setting aside for a second the fact that Showtime is a premium pay cable channel that is supposed to air films completely uncut and uncensored, one of the most surprising things about their banning of Imprint is that they were apparently so surprised by its graphic content. By the time it was supposed to air Miike already had a sizable reputation for not just pushing the envelope but setting fire to it with films like Ichi the Killer (2001) and Visitor Q (2001) just to name two already under his belt so it seems hard to believe that someone over at Showtime wouldn’t be aware of the type of filmmaker Miike was. Believe it or not Miike wasn’t the only filmmaker who had censorship imposed on their work with Dario Argento being forced to make cuts to his first Masters of Horror episode Jenifer (2005). Imprint did however air overseas uncut with no issues. The banning of Imprint will ultimately be the first thing most will think about whenever the film is mentioned which is fair as it stands as an example of absurd censorship although its unfortunate that most reviews of the film chose to focus solely on its more sensational content making the film seem shallow which it most certainly is not. Far from just an empty collection of shock scenes, Imprint is a legitimate modern masterpiece from a true maverick.

Suspicion (1941)

Generally speaking, the Oscars are an incredibly difficult thing to take seriously. While The Silence of the Lambs (1991) sweeping the 64th awards show awards was a step in the right direction, the amount of blunders made by the apparently important institution is staggering. For instance there is no defendable reason why Harvey Kietel wasn’t nominated for best actor for his performance in Bad Lieutenant (1992). The same could be said for Matthew McConaughey’s knockout performance in Killer Joe (2012). Or how about David Lynch not winning best director for Mulholland Drive (2001)? The mind boggles. What exactly this has to do with Alfred Hitchcock and 1941’s Suspicion is this, Hitchcock was nominated for best director five times and shockingly (or perhaps not considers the organization in question) not once did he win. The only film of Hitchcock’s to win best picture, and deservedly so, was Rebecca (1940). Suspicion was also nominated for best picture and although it didn’t win, lead actress Joan Fontaine won best actress and its been suggested over the years that her win for Suspicion was the academy making up for not giving her the best actress award for Rebecca. That may or may not be the case but what is certain is that it’s a fantastic performance in a film that, while hardly obscure, has gotten pushed aside somewhat when compared to some of Hitchcock’s more famous films.  

Following an uneventful encounter on a train, Lina McLaidlaw (Joan Fontaine), a shy young woman is properly re-introduced to Johnnie Aysgarth (Carry Grant), a charming playboy who is immediately smitten with Lina. After initially resisting, Johnnie’s charms get the better of Lina and the two fall madly in love and are soon married. Not long after the marriage however Lina discovers Johnnie’s dire financial situation and his continuing to gamble against her wishes which only leads to more lies. With Johnnie’s behavior growing more and more suspicious along with his obsession with murder mystery novels, Lina slowly begins to suspect that Johnnie is planning a murder, and that his intended target is her.

Leave it to Hitchcock to take an idea such as a happy newlywed couple and twist it into something sinister. While Suspicion might not have been Hitchcock’s direct follow-up to Rebecca with Foreign Correspondent (1940) and Mr. and Mrs. Smith (1941) coming before, there are a few undeniable similarities between Rebecca and Suspicion and the two could be considered “cousin” films so to speak. The most explicit connection between the two films would of course be the characters played by Joan Fontaine in both films with both women being fairly provincial who marry into some pretty dark situations, although the situation Fontaine’s Lina finds herself in is possibly a bit more dangerous than the one her second Mrs. de Winter inherits in Rebecca. While Fontaine is phenomenal and deserved her Oscar, what really sells the film is Carry Grant. After all, the entire point of the film is to raise the question of whether or not Johnnie is or isn’t a murderer and Grant projects that ambiguity brilliantly. Much like his character, Grant was a charmer with an instantly likable presence. At the same time there is also something about Johnnie’s presence that gives off the impression of something darker hiding beneath the surface yet due to his slyness that possible dark side goes unnoticed by most. One moment a small nuance in Grant’s performance will give off the impression that there’s no way he’s capable of murder and a minute later another nuance will have the opposite effect. Truly an astonishing performance.

Hitchcock actually had the rights to the book the film was based on, Anthony Berkeley Cox’s Before the Fact, several years before the film was actually made. The biggest difference between the film and the book was the ending with Hitchcock wanting to go a specific route but the studio wasn’t having any of it. Hitchcock also hated the title “Suspicion”. There were a number of working titles for the film and Hitchcock wanted the film to be called “Johnnie” but "Suspicion" proved to be the more marketable title. What’s also interesting is that a colorized version was eventually made, however as noted by film historian Robert Osborne in the featurette on Warner Bros. DVD, the colorization of films specifically designed for black and white photography often take away from the power of the original photography. That is certainly the case with Suspicion, particularly with Hitchcock’s use of light and shadow, specifically during the films most celebrated moment involving the most intimidating glass of milk in film history. Perhaps due to the thematic similarities and ironically Fontaine’s Oscar win, Suspicion will in some ways always be in the shadow of Rebecca. While Suspicion might not be the psychological juggernaut that the former film is, it is nonetheless a quintessential Hitchcock film featuring one of the finest performances from any of his leading men and worthy of being referred to as a Hitchcock classic.  

The Escapees (1981)

AKA Les paumées du petit matin, The Runaways, Fuges mineures, A couteaux tirés

While Jean Rollin was never shy about straying from the vampire subgenre in which he made a name for himself early in his career with non-vampire films like The Iron Rose (1973) and The Demoniacs (1974), as the 70’s turned into the 80’s Rollin began traveling down some interesting roads and distanced himself from vampires even further until he returned to the subgenre in 1997 with Two Orphan Vampires. The 80’s were a particularly interesting time for Rollin as he brought his signature style to a number of films in a variety of subgenres like the emotional zombie film The Living Dead Girl (1982), the Cronenbergian Night of the Hunted (1980), the atypical crime thriller The Sidewalks of Bangkok (1984) and the made for TV dream piece Lost In New York (1989). Of course there’s also the notorious Zombie Lake (1981) which Rollin finished after Jess Franco abandoned the project and several adult films Rollin signed with his “Robert Xavier” pseudonym. If there’s one film from Rollin’s 80’s output that sticks out but also has gotten lost in the shuffle a bit over the years it’s The Escapees. For the longest time The Escapees was one of Rollin’s most under the radar films and in some ways it still is to more casual fans, however its also an incredibly powerful film and an excellent example of the emotional impact Rollin’s films can have.

Immediately after arriving at a mental institution, Michelle (Laurence Dubas), a belligerent juvenile delinquent forms an escape plan with the aid of the extremely reserved Marie (Christiane Coppé), a fellow inmate who begs Michelle to let her go along. After some initial hesitation, Michelle agrees and with no particular destination in mind the two make a run for it in search for a better place, encountering an odd assortment of characters and dangerous situations along the way.

At first glance The Escapees (Les échappées) might seem like one of Rollin’s most atypical films and to a certain extent it is due to the lack of any supernatural elements yet Rollin’s fingerprints are all over the material. Instead of vampires, vengeful demons or zombies, the creatures of the night featured in The Escapees are the types found in the real world. Traveling gypsy circus troupes, thieves, tramps, shifty nightclub patrons, these are the inhabitants of Marie and Michelle’s new world. Despite the “realist” setting, the film is still quintessentially Rollin in that it retains a fairytale quality due to Rollin’s surrealist tendencies and the random nature of Marie and Michelle’s encounters, the highlight being an exotic dance show put on by the gypsies held in the middle of a junkyard. The film also features one of Rollin’s most poignant uses of his “two girls” as the main protagonists with the characters of the timid Marie and the outgoing and opinioned Michelle perfectly contrasting each other which also makes them the perfect match. The development of their relationship throughout the film, going from slightly contentious at first to sisterly and co-dependant by the end of the film comes across as genuine which makes the film pack an even bigger punch. Rollin fanatics will instantly recognize Louise Dhour as a nightclub owner and of course Brigitte Lahaie as a lesbian yuppie. Her role might not be the biggest but it is memorable and plays a major role in fate of Marie and Michelle.

There were two scripts written for the film, Rollin’s original script
which was then given to a screenwriter by the name of Jacques Ralf who then wrote another script which Rollin hated. According to Rollin, Ralf was more of a theatre writer and his script contained far too much dialogue and Rollin’s films were always sparse on dialogue. Rollin also claimed that Ralf’s script was full of clichés, so when the time came to actually make the film Rollin essentially combined the two scripts shooting the best scenes from his original screenplay and the re-write. Interestingly, Rollin initially hated what has essentially gone on to become the best remembered and most highly regarded scene in the film, the amazing scene of Marie ice skating as it contained the aforementioned extra dialogue that Rollin found melodramatic and unnecessary. By his own admission, Rollin basically lost interest in the film do to all the difficultly with the script and over time had sort of forgotten about the film until a French cable TV channel acquired the rights to it for broadcast and eventually the film made its DVD debut in 2009 so at least it won’t be completely forgotten about. While it isn’t likely to win over anyone not used to Rollin’s style, there’s no reason why fans of Rollin who for some reason haven’t gotten to The Escapees yet wont find plenty to love.

Gothic (1986)

Its often said that the inspiration behind a horror story, or “the horror beneath the horror” as author John McCarty described it in his 1990 book The Modern Horror Film, is often just as fascinating as the horror story itself. There couldn’t be a more perfect example than the inspiration for Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein. As interesting as it is thinking of how many films have been born out of Shelly’s story of the modern Prometheus and how many other genre stories have borrowed from it, what really makes the origin of Shelly’s novel so intriguing, particularly to fans of classic genre literature is the cast of characters involved. During the “year without a summer” in 1816, Shelly (then Godwin), her fiancé, the poet Percy Shelly and half-sister Claire Clairmont spent some leisurely time at Lord Byron’s Villa Diodati in Switzerland along with Byron’s personal physician John William Polidori. After entertaining themselves with ghost stores the group made a challenge to each other to write a horror story and thus Frankenstein, along with Polidori’s The Vampyre was born. Considering the personalities involved, it’s the type of story that was prime for its own horror story and who better to tell the tale than Ken Russell? Unsurprisingly with Russell at the helm 1986’s Gothic is certainly the most outlandish re-imagining of the events along with being one of the most original horror films from the 80’s.

Mary Godwin (Natasha Richardson) along with her soon to be husband poet Percy Shelly (Julian Sands) and half-sister Claire Clairmont (Myriam Cyr) arrive at Villa Diodati, the home of Lord Byron (Gabriel Byrne) whom had been banished from England. Upon arriving they are introduced to Bryon’s personal physician John Polodori (Timothy Spall) and soon after their games begin with the group indulging in select vices. Fueled by drink, opium and ghost stories, Byron suggests they hold a séance of sorts and create their own monsters. As a storm rages on outside, the group find themselves trapped in an increasingly horrifying nightmare, terrorized by their inner-most fears.  

Shortly after the opening credits Russell features two of the characters running around like lunatics which gives a good idea of the type of insanity that’s in store for the rest of the film. What’s important to know going into Gothic is that despite dealing with historical literary figures, Russell isn’t interested in historical fact, merely using the get-together of Bryon, the Shelly’s and Polodori as a primer for something much more surreal than a simple presenting of the facts. Really what Gothic is about is a celebration of the imagination and an embracing of the irrational when the imagination, especially when dealing with the personal fears of characters such as these, is inflamed. This also gives Russell license to muse on his own fixations on sex and religion particularly as it relates to Polodori’s repressed homosexuality and fear of god, Byron’s not so repressed homosexual attraction to Shelly as well as his incestuous transgressions. The collective anxieties of all involved also lead to some of the most arresting and at times startling visuals Russell ever conjured up which are atmospherically aided by Thomas Dolby’s oddly appropriate electronic score. What really sells the film though is the manic performances of the entire cast with Sands, Cyr and Spall having complete mental breakdowns throughout the entire film and Byrne making for a moody and brooding Byron. It’s the late and sorely missed Richardson though who gives the most brilliant and ultimately emotionally resonant performance as Mary, constantly haunted by the death of her child.

Along with simply being a Ken Russell film, Gothic has a connection to Russell’s The Devils (1971) in that Natasha Richardson was the daughter of Vanessa Redgrave who was of course astounding in her performance as Sister Jeanne in The Devils. Even cooler, Richardson was also the stepdaughter of Franco Nero! Her role as Mary Shelly in Gothic was actually her first major staring role, one that lead to a great career that was tragically cut short in 2009. Just a phenomenal, irreplaceable talent who checked out way to soon. Its also interesting to note that at the time of filming, Gabriel Byrne was 36 years old, the same age as Byron when he died. Again, accuracy wasn’t exactly what Russell was going for but there are some fragments of facts peppered throughout the film, namely Byron’s scandalous personality and Mary’s grieving over the loss of children. Gothic was hit for Vestron Video, so much so that they wanted another horror film from Russell which would end up being The Lair of the White Worm (1988) loosely based on Bram Stoker’s final novel, although it would appear that Gothic has become one of Russell’s more neglected films especially when compared to Russell’s other horror films. Gothic is a startlingly original piece of horror, one that proves that Russell, much like the individuals depicted in the film, was a true hero of the imagination.

The Lair of the White Worm (1988)

One of the oldest legends in English folklore, the story of the Lambton Worm, or “wyrm”, a dragon like creature, is also one of the most interesting and creative. Like most folktales, the story has been told in many ways over the years with variations on several details, but the basic gist of the tale revolves around John Lambton, a rebellious youngster who skips church to go fishing and catches a strange worm like creature. Discarding it, Lambton throws the worm down a well where it eventually grows to a monstrous size and begins to wreak havoc in the surrounding areas until John Lambton returns and finally kills the worm. The story partially served as the basis for what was to be Bram Stoker’s final novel The Lair of the White Worm, published in 1911. According to some, Stoker was quite ill with syphilis while writing the book which would account for the often delirious tone of the writing and the books overall bizarreness. The perfect type of material for Ken Russell to base a film around and the perfect follow up his previous insane piece of literature inspired horror Gothic (1986), a fantastic imagining of the night the premise of Frankenstein came to Mary Shelly, The Lair of the White Worm is Russell at his most outrageous and a film that is in a class all its own within the horror genre.

While digging around a farmhouse inn operated by sisters Mary and Eve Trent, archeologist Angus Flint unearths an odd, dragon-esque skull which is soon followed by a mosaic featuring a portrait of Dionin, an ancient Pagan snake god. The site of the excavation is owned by James d'Ampton (Hugh Grant), a descendant of John d’Ampton who according to local legend killed the d’Ampton worm, a giant snake like creature who terrorized the village. Coinciding with the excavation is arrival of Lady Sylvia Marsh (Amanda Donohoe), a seasonal resident whose estate is located near the farmhouse as well as the cave which was said to be the d’Ampton worms lair. Not long after the skull and the deeply religious Eve go missing, prompting James to suspect the legend of the d’Ampton worm to be true and in some way connected to the Pagan mosaic and Lady Sylvia.

Unapologetically blasphemous, often ridiculous, always absurdly humorous and at times jarringly frightening, there’s no question about it, The Lair of the White Worm is a Russell film through and through. This film is a shining example of how to properly blend horror and humor with both elements perfectly balancing off each other resulting in one very entertaining and bizarre film, one that combines bits and pieces of the Lambton Worm legend, Stoker’s novel and Russell’s own unique personal touches. On first viewing and possibly even on subsequent viewings the film may seem incomprehensible from a narrative standpoint and indeed there is quite a bit in the plot to digest, with Russell making no attempt to avoid what may come across as randomness (including a surreal dream sequence on an airplane that seems to come out of nowhere even for Russell) however in the end the film ultimately does come full circle and the way Russell has the story play out makes the seemingly convoluted plot all the more interesting. Visually the film is ripe with Russell‘s flamboyant excessiveness including two instantly memorable hallucinations that provide a nice shock in the way Russell has them just appear out of the blue. Both feature what most would probably consider dated video effects but have an endearing quality to them and give them a standout look. The actual look of Dionin is quite effective as well containing just the right amount camp and if that weren’t enough Russell also throws in some striking vampyric snake/human hybrids!

Russell originally wanted Tilda Swinton to play the role of Lady Sylvia Marsh however according to producer Dan Ireland in a Trailers from Hell commentary after Swinton read the script she felt so insulted she wouldn’t even return Russell’s phone calls. No offence to Swinton who is a great talent but thankfully Russell met Amanda Donohoe who for all intensive purposes owns the film. Donohoe IS Lady Sylvia and simply oozes sexuality and brings the right amount of campiness to the role while also never loosing the characters sense of mystique. The film just wouldn’t have been the same without her. Donohoe would go onto to co-star in Russell’s The Rainbow (1989), a prequel to his classic Women in Love (1969). Interestingly enough, The Lair of the White Worm was a holdover film of sorts in order for Russell to get the funding for The Rainbow. The casting of Hugh Grant is almost hysterical in itself considering the kind of roles he would become famous for in the 90’s but he’s really good here, clearly in the on the joke so to speak and it’s a joke well worth being in on. While it may not be as full-on as The Devils (1971) or as visually excessive as Altered States (1980), The Lair of the White Worm is nonetheless one of Russell’s most entertaining genre entries and an unforgettable horror film in general.

L'Immortelle (1963)

Alain Robbe-Grillet found himself in an interesting position in 1963. Always quick with some self-deprecating humor, the brilliant novelist and filmmaker constantly quipped that during the 50’s and 60’s when the “nouvelle roman” or new novel movement which Robbe-Grillet was a leader, if not the inventor of, was en vogue, Robbe-Grillet’s name was one to drop, even if as he put it, nobody read him. Robbe-Grillet’s name became even famous when his screenplay for Alain Resnais’ Last Year at Marinbad (1961) was nominated for an Oscar, even though he wasn’t a best seller and French literary critics failed to comprehend his radical writing style. Robbe-Grillet had always expressed interest in making films and during a 1989 lecture at San Francisco University he joked that he was probably asked to direct films due to the popular critical consensus that his novels were films that just haven’t been made yet, citing his 1957 novel Jealousy in which over the course of 200 pages a house is described while still not really giving a clear example of what the house actually looks like so it was only right to give Robbe-Grillet a camera and literally show the house! Robbe-Grillet’s astonishing first film, 1963’s L’Immortelle was a perfect cinematic translation of his unconventional nouvelle roman writing style and set in motion what was to become one of the most fascinating, provocative and distinctive filmographies in European cinema.    

Shortly after arriving in Istanbul for work purposes, a professor meets a mysterious woman (Françoise Brion) and is immediately taken with her. The two begin a relationship although she remains enigmatic, never really letting him get to know her much to his frustration. He becomes even more perplexed when she tells him she’s going away for a few days without giving any explanation why and is adamant about not being contacted. Afterwards the man becomes obsessed and sets out on the mystifying and potentially dangerous task of finding out all he can about his elusive companion.

At one point during L’Immortelle (The Immortal One) Françoise Brion’s nameless enchanter muses to her (also nameless) suitor that the Turkey in which the film takes place is the “Turkey of your dreams”. Its a description that couldn’t have been more apt, yet at the same time could also be taken with a grain of salt with nothing in a Robbe-Grillet film being instantly explainable. The Istanbul which Robbe-Grillet presents certainly exists in the real word, the film itself however seems to be suspended between the waking and dream world. It’s a world where every character seems to be in a zombified haze of sorts, where the inhabitants speak in cryptic, oftentimes contradicting terms and events are repeated but perhaps not in the exact way they happened in the first place. Such descriptions might make L’Immortelle sound impenetrable however the opposite is true. Robbe-Grillet’s fragmented presentation is unquestionably bewildering but it is also exotic and enticing. The mood the film projects as a result of Robbe-Grillet’s direction and disjointed narrative is astounding making L’Immortelle a film that’s incredibly difficult to not get lost in. Two factors also contribute immensely to the films already trancelike ambiance. The first being Robbe-Grillet’s postcard-esque display Istanbul which essentially becomes its own character but more importantly, the arresting presence of Françoise Brion, with the spell Brion casts on the star-crossed professor carrying over to the audience as well, so much so that the film never once drags even during the portion of the film when she is absent.

L’Immortelle was awarded the Prix Louis Delluc, a prestigious French film award given out buy a jury comprised of mostly film critics, although ironically when the film was released the overall critical response was generally lukewarm or negative. While the majority of Robbe-Grillet’s films were difficult to find up until early 2014 when L’Immortelle along with Trans-Europ-Express (1967), The Man Who Lies (1968), Eden and After (1970) and Successive Slidings of Pleasure (1974) finally received remastered DVD treatments, L’Immortelle was one of the more if not the most tricky to track down unless a screening was held. Thanks to BFI who released all the aforementioned films in a box set and Kino/Redemption who released the films separately, L’Immortelle is readily available. All the discs contain interviews with Robbe-Grillet and the one conducted for L’Immortelle is one of the most interesting as he goes into great detail as to what it was like directing a film for the first time and goes into some of the mistakes he made as a first time filmmaker. It’s a fascinating conversation for an even more fascinating film and it shouldn’t even need to be said that the disc is essential. L’Immortelle is one of Robbe-Grillet’s finest films and like all debuts from major auteurs its is a special film and one that serves as a sign of things to come. A stunning debut from a true original.