Monday, March 20, 2017

Nightdreams 2 / Nightdreams 3 (1991)

Although there had been adult films that came before it that cross pollinated sex with elements of the fantasy and horror genres such as The Devil in Miss Jones (1973) and Through the Looking Glass (1976), Nightdreams (1981) was nevertheless a watershed film for the adult medium. Proving just how imaginative an adult film could be, Nightdreams also introduced the cult film world to Stephen Sayadian who, under the pseudonym “Rinse Dream” penned Nightdreams along with Jerry Stahl (“Herbert W. Day”). In a strange way, Sayadian's sheer originality was a bit of a detriment at first as the fusing of sex and surrealism found in Nightdreams wasn't exactly what adult theater attendees wanted to see at the time. While introducing a screening of the film at the 2013 L'Étrange Festival, Sayadian joked that a projectionist who played the film once told him that it was the only time in porn history that audience members actually demanded a refund. While Nightdreams is appropriately considered the first Rinse Dream movie, Sayadian technically didn't direct the film as Francis Delia (“F.X. Pope”) called the action while Sayadian prepared the next set piece. Following his only non-adult feature Dr. Caligari (1989), Sayadian returned to the realm of Nightdreams, this time directing two sequels that retained the spirit of the original film as well as signaling what was to come with the rest of his 90's video output.

The first of Sayadian's 90's videos, Nightdreams 2 is an interesting watch as it more or less sees Sayadian finding his footing with the approach he would take in subsequent films. While “restrained” is hardly the right word, compared to later videos like Party Doll a Go-Go! (1991) and Untamed Cowgirls of the Wild West (1993), Nightdreams 2 feels like somewhat of a trial run at times while still fitting in with the rest of Sayadian's filmography. It might be the farthest thing from “conventional”, however in the vein of the original Nightdreams the film revolves around the common narrative thread of doctors Sledge (Lauren Brice) and Haunt (Joey Silvera) observing the fantasies of inmates at their clinic, the star patient being one Mrs. Atkins (Tianna). Whereas Sayadian would develop a habit for interrupting the sex scenes in later films with random bits of nonsense, here Sayadian lets the sex scenes run their course uninterrupted for the most part, only cutting away on occasion to the astonished reactions of Sledge and Haunt. While the quirks that would become the calling cards of Sayadian's video features are in their embryonic stages here, the film is still a bombardment of surrealism, featuring one of the most bizarre sex scenes in Sayadian's oeuvre with two participants dawning strange masks and face paint and the film even crosses over into full-blown Cronenbergian body horror territory with a manic Tianna displaying an extra orifice ala Cronenberg's Rabid (1977) plus an unforgettable enlargement on another region of her person.

Nightdreams 3 is an even more narrative based endeavor and at times portions of the film could be seen as an XXX variation on Dr. Caligari. Lauren Brice once again is Dr. Sledge, who's unorthodox methods of treating the various sexual neurosis of her patients at the Benway clinic have drawn the unwanted attention of her supervisor Dr. Sirk (Tianna). Its here where Sayadian's unconventional approach to the adult video format really begins to take shape with the sex scenes constantly interrupted by disorienting repeated bits of dialogue from previous scenes and much like the previous film, as well as Dr. Caligari, any resemblance to realism is tossed out the window from the beginning with Sayadian's impeccable post-nuclear chic dayglo production design making the “clinics” both films take place in resemble the remnants of an atomic fall out. Being more narrative driven allows for longer breaks in-between the sex scenes, resulting in an excellent turn from the imposing Brice who gets much more to do here as Dr. Sledge than in the second film, including a hilarious pre-sex bit with a hysterically overacting Tom Byron which again is reminiscent of a scene out of Dr. Caligari. Sayadian's irreverent sense of humor shines through on numerous occasions via the always memorable dialogue with lines like “Your a cupcake full of strychnine” and “She's got a thing for longshoreman. Just mention “On the Waterfront” and she gets randy-pants” as well as his habit of giving his characters Manson family surnames, like Fromme, Krenwinkel and Van Houten.

The opening credits to both films reveal a list of names, or rather pseudonyms, that would become a constant throughout the rest of Sayadian's video era. Key players include producer “Sidney Falco”(nom de plume taken from the 1957 film noir Sweet Smell of Success), hair and make-up artist “Purr Delux”, director of photography “Klaus Krupp” and costume designer “Polly Ester” who was also the costume designer for Sayadian's directorial debut Cafe Flesh (1982). Tianna and Tom Byron would also go on to work with Sayadian again with Tianna providing some of the most memorable moments in both Party Doll a Go-Go! videos and Byron also appearing in the Party Doll videos as well as the first Untamed Cowgirls of the Wild West video. Perhaps the most valuable of Sayadian's reoccurring collaborators would be Double Vision, who's score for Party Doll a Go-Go! is a major part of what makes those videos so brilliant, provide some of their finest, most hypnotizing work for the second and third Nightdreams films, particularly the third film. Unfortunately, like the rest of Sayadian's 90's videos, the pair of Nightdreams films can be tricky to track down having never been officially issued on DVD and neither may attain the following of the first Nightdreams film, however both are essential pieces to the Sayaidan puzzle showcasing the origins of Sayadian's radical approach to adult videos that he would soon perfect.  
 

Monday, March 6, 2017

Party Doll a Go-Go! (1991)

A go-to, and somewhat overused way to describe the work of filmmakers who work in or around the fringes of genre is how said artists “transcend” genre. For instance the films of David Lynch, Walerian Borowczyk or Andrzej Zulawski, filmmakers who's influences result in films with visions so entirely singular the films essentially become they're very own genre. Perhaps no other filmmaker fits that criteria better than Stephen Sayadian. The first film to come from Sayadian's headspace under the nom de plume “Rinse Dream”, Nightdreams (1981), a film so unlike any other adult film that came before it, alienated adult theater patrons so much the film failed as an adult film yet found its champions in the art crowd. Sayadian's divisive streak would continue with the now legendary Cafe Flesh (1982), which again frustrated the raincoat crowd unprepared for Sayadian's colorful post-apocalyptic fusion of sex and sci-fi, however the film quickly gained a following as a midnight movie and is more likely to be mentioned alongside the likes of Pink Flamingos (1972) or Eraserhead (1977) rather than Deep Throat (1972) or Debbie Does Dallas (1978). Following his only non-hardcore feature Dr. Caligari (1989), Sayadian turned his attention to the adult video market and let loose with six highly unusual videos, potentially even more maddening than his early films to anyone expecting typical adult fare with Party Doll a Go-Go! being the crown jewel.

Almost playing out like a video experiment more than an actual movie, Party Doll a Go-Go! finds Sayadian taking the cliched popular consensus of what an adult video is, all sex and no plot, and brilliantly contorting it into this lunatic creation bound to confuse as opposed to titillate. Sayadian has gone on record saying that eroticism was never a main goal for him which might seem like an odd mindset going into an adult film, yet its exactly what makes Party Doll a Go-Go! and the rest of Sayadian's video work that followed so unique. The film may be built around five random sex scenes but Sayadian disposes with any set-up, presenting the sex without context, thereby eliminating the fantasy element making any eroticism purely incidental based on how attractive anyone viewing the film finds the performers. While making the sex the least interesting aspect of an adult feature would be enough to set Party Doll apart from every other adult video, what makes the film such an innovative and memorable watch is everything else Sayadian peppers the film with, from the delirious editing with numerous instances of repetition, to Sayadian's always highly innovative, almost baroque production design. Without question though the films biggest strength is the writing, with the pre-sex skits and Sayadian's routine interrupting of the sex scenes, with the performers offering hilariously witty commentary, breaking the fourth wall and addressing the audience, spouting some of the most ingeniously absurd and endlessly quotable dialogue ever uttered on film or videotape.

The same freewheeling, nonsensical irreverence is carried over into Party Doll a Go-Go! Part 2 with some slight adjustments to the sex scene pairings and and even more off the wall pre-sex vignettes. Opening with Jeanna Fine frantically fishing for an “artificial man-thing” (a dildo being dangled in front of her on a wire) while Madison and Tianna comment in astonishment “Did you see that Cecil disappear? Talk about lost in space!” and featuring a vignette where Tianna manically gyrates due to her being unable to “turn off the wiggle” while Madison pleads with the other party dolls to give advice, leading to such suggestions as “Electroshock therapy?” and “Load up the RV and head for corn country!”, Sayadian turns up both the wiggle and the frivolity for the second video. The lively banter between the performers is ever present as well, and the second video in particular makes use of the tongue placed firmly in cheek innuendos and euphemisms that would feature prominently in Sayadian's video works, gut-busting terms like “special tingle”, “lucky spasm”, “boy jerky”, “girl biscuit” and “girl homo”. Both videos also benefit greatly from the finest ensemble Sayadian ever had at his disposal featuring the likes of Patricia Kennedy, Bionca, Raven, Nikki Wilde, Peter North, Randy Spears and Tom Byron alongside the aforementioned Jeanna Fine, Madison and Tianna. All are clearly enjoying doing something so different, particulary Madison and Tianna, who own the dialogue delivery and in a way could be seen as the defacto hostesses of both videos.

As if the two videos didn't already have enough going for them by way of the enthusiastic performances, flamboyant production design and kooky dialogue, another one of the films strongest selling points is the incredible soundtrack courtesy of Double Vision, sounding like an alien variation of one of the soundtracks to a 60's surf/beach party film. The films main theme even sounds like a riff on The Ventures take on the classic instrumental “Walk Don't Run”. The pieces accompanying each scene along with the occasional vocal heard in some of the tracks just further emphasize the not of this planet vibe of both videos. Really the only negative thing regarding both Party Doll a Go-Go! videos are their unfortunate current home video status, with the double feature DVD issued by the now defunct VCA, who also distributed the two videos upon their initial VHS releases as well as both films on laserdisc, is long out of print and commands unjustifiably high prices. While NightdreamsCafe Flesh and Dr. Caligari have their places in cult film history firmly secured, Sayadian's later video work remains woefully neglectged. Being Sayadian features, both Party Doll a Go-Go! videos have the distinction of being niche films in an already niche realm, however adventurous viewers willing to celebrate Sayadian's strange aesthetic should have no trouble rightfully hailing both Party Doll a Go-Go! features as the mischievous masterpieces both are.



Monday, February 20, 2017

Joë Caligula (1966)

While the banning of any film is an unnecessary and fascistic act, the history of such instances will always remain an endless source of fascination and frustration for film fans. Obviously the most famous list of persecuted titles will always be the “Video Nasties”, which sparked one of the most ludicrous outbreaks of moral panic in recent memory. A more contemporary example would the be banning of Kim Ki-duk’s Moebius (2013) in Kim’s home country of South Korea, forcing Kim to make several cuts in order to secure theatrical distribution. In Australia, a country notorious for draconian censorship practices, innumerable films have been refused classification, which is tantamount to banning, one such film being Larry Clark’s Ken Park (2002). In response to this, film critic and TV personality Margaret Pomeranz held a protest screening of the film which was subsequently shout down by the police. Then of course there was the banning of Takashi Miike’s Imprint (2006) by Showtime, a supposedly "uncensored" cable channel. One of the most egregious example of the banning of a film would be the decision by the French censor board to ban José Bénazéraf’s Joë Caligula the night before its intended premier and after it had already been given a rating. Bénazéraf took it personally and rightfully so as Joë Caligula is one of the purest examples of Bénazéraf’s cinematic anarchy and an crucial film in Bénazéraf’s oeuvre.

In an attempt to take over the ranks of organized crime in Paris, “Joe Caligula” (nicknamed as such do to his vanity, penchant for sadism and his incestuous feelings for his sister Brigitte), a young gangster and his crew of thugs wage war on the old guard of the Parisian underworld and get the attention of the established bosses after kidnapping and roughing up one of the big names demanding money. Joe and his crew continue their crusade although they soon go too far, setting fire to another high ranking gangster from a rival gang resulting in an eruption of violence, the consequences of which can only be tragic.

On paper Joë Caligula probably sounds like a fairly straightforward crime film about gang warfare, however with Bénazéraf at the helm the film becomes something else entirely, something wild and transgressive, borderline surreal at times. The film does follow a linear narrative, however Bénazéraf’s off-center sensibilities give way to an unpredictable and stream of consciousness type of storytelling with very few of the characters behaving like normal human beings and Bénazéraf peppering the film with random, matter of fact scenarios such as Joe and his crew posing in new outfits, a dance outbreak in a diner, Brigitte stopping in the middle of a walk to pose like a mannequin outside a storefront window and a classic Bénazéraf striptease performance set to the tune of “I'm Evil” that plays not once but twice. Also typical of  Bénazéraf’s films from this period is the distinct lack of dialogue and tense moodiness that results from the moments of silence with Bénazéraf focusing more on the brooding faces of the actors, the languid atmosphere of the film only being broken by the bursts of casual violence and manic free jazz score. What’s incredible is that despite the incidental nature of a good portion of the film, emotional investment comes rather easy, particularly later in the film when the score becomes mournful and Bénazéraf gives Brigitte, easily the most fascinating and enigmatic character in the film, his full attention, leading to a surprisingly heartfelt climax which in turn gives way to the haunting imagery that ends the film.

According to the French censor board, the official reason for the banning of the film was violence however Bénazéraf saw it as politically motivated. Bénazéraf had a habit of giving his characters radical political speeches and in his mind, the banning of Joë Caligula was an attempt to silence him. Bénazéraf stated in Immoral Tales: European Sex and Horror Movies 1956-1984, "It was revenge. Because of my opposition to all that administration and bureaucracy. So they fucked me and they fucked me well." Indeed, as not only did the banning of the film irritate Bénazéraf but it also cost him around two million of his own Francs and left him with 30 prints of the film and no way to distribute. Although it would be about a decade before Bénazéraf fully crossed over into the hardcore adult film market, its been suggested that the films banning planted the seeds for Bénazéraf's decision to leave mainstream cinema behind, having become so fed up with his films being censored. Interestingly, the film is available for streaming via Amazon Instant Video although the film has yet to receive an official English friendly DVD release, so for those who prefer psychical media DVD-R’s will have to do. No matter how the film is viewed what’s important is that Joë Caligula is an essential Bénazéraf title and a must watch for anyone with an interest in fringe cinema.



Monday, February 6, 2017

L'éternité pour nous (1963)

AKA Sin on the Beach and Le Cri de la Chair (The Cry of the Flesh)

One of the most fascinating things regarding the career of José Bénazéraf was his relationship with the French New Wave. It might seem a bit perplexing that the man responsible for direct to video hardcore titles like Lusty Widow (1985) and Olinka, Grand Priestess of Love (1985) would have been mentioned in the pages of Cahiers du cinéma along with the likes of Godard, Truffaut, Rivette and Chabrol, yet Bénazéraf began making films the same time as many of the aforementioned nouvelle vague directors and several of Bénazéraf’s early films feature the innovative stylistic tendencies that would go on to define the French New Wave. In fact, Bénazéraf even made a cameo in Godard’s À bout de souffle (1960) as an unlucky man about to have his car stolen (his actual car was the one used in the film). Many of the techniques utilized by the New Wave filmmakers were considered radical at the time, a description that was invented for the likes of Bénazéraf and his early 60’s films certainty had an experimental bend to them with their long stretches of silence and free-form, stream of consciousness narratives. Following a stint as a producer, Bénazéraf made his directorial debut with L'éternité pour nous, a film which not only fits in comfortably with other “outsider” films of the time but also would play a major part in the development of European erotic cinema.

Pianist Jean-Marc (Michel Lemoine) and his singer/dancer girlfriend Brigitte (Sylvia Sorrente) arrive at an island resort to provide the entertainment for the summer. Almost immediately after arriving tensions soon arise due to the obvious attraction shared between Jean-Marc and Maria, the owner of the resort. The mood at the resort is also tense on account of Maria’s ailing husband and when Maria’s husband dies, accusations of murder begin to fly. Maria invites Jean-Marc and Brigitte to stay at the resort during the off-season so Jean-Marc can concentrate on composing, a decision that will dramatically impact the lives of all three.

Although it does predict the improvised style that Bénazéraf would employ in future films such as Sexus (1965) and Joë Caligula (1966), L'éternité pour nous (Eternity for Us) is a classic case of an artist finding themselves. Unlike the films that would follow, there is more of an emphasis on script here making the film more conventionally minded. More classical than jazz so to speak. Still, even with the story more at the forefront than in other Bénazéraf films, there are many instances of the quirks that Bénazéraf would stamp on subsequent works. Bénazéraf’s wandering eye quickly becomes apparent and there are countless moments in the film where the camera saunters off to focus on the resorts island surroundings or extended takes of the actors simply walking around said surroundings. Such moments are crucial to another Bénazéraf signature that the film features in abundance, that being mood. What’s unique about the mood of L'éternité pour nous is the prevailing sense of melancholy that would factor in select future Bénazéraf titles. These are bored and alienated characters and the constant showcasing of the empty beaches (save for the three main players) during the cold off-season at the resort further emphasize the void in their lives. There is also an air of pessimism to the film with Lemoine’s non-stop existential musings and Bénazéraf presenting a cynical view on the idea of relationships. Even the title “Eternity for Us” is left open to interpretation as to whether or not such a thing is good or bad.

Bénazéraf recalled the humorously simple way the film came about during the episode of the 1999 Channel 4 documentary series Erotika! entitled “A Life in Four Chapters”, claiming he was lounging on the beach reading a book and suddenly got a glimpse of Sylvia Sorrente rising out the water. Bénazéraf walked up to her, asked if she wanted to be an actress and fifteen days later the film commenced shooting. Even though Bénazéraf began directing films to prove he could make a better film than the ones he had produced, he was surprised by how far the film traveled outside of France, even to Japan and America where it was regrettably butchered and dubbed under the title of Sin on the Beach. The film also set in motion the collaborative relationship between Bénazéraf and Michel Lemoine who would also appear in Bénazéraf’s follow up to L'éternité pour nous, Le concerto de la peur (1963) and would also go on to co-write the script to Bénazéraf’s masterpiece Frustration (1971). Lemoine even credits working with Bénazéraf as the spark that gave him the drive to eventually make his own films. Despite being aggravatingly unavailable on DVD outside of France which is par for the course when it comes to Bénazéraf’s output, L'éternité pour nous is a crucial film that announced the arrival of a maverick filmmaker and really changed the landscape of erotically charged films.







Monday, January 23, 2017

The Blackout (1997)

In March 2015, Abel Ferrara issued a cease and desist letter to IFC Films, the American distributor for his Dominique Strauss-Kahn inspired Welcome to New York (2014) and Wild Bunch, the films global distributor on account of both IFC and Wild Bunch releasing the film to theatres and VOD outlets in an edited form, enraging Ferrara. An unfortunate situation yet hardly anything new for Ferrara who is no stranger to distribution issues. When the indie boom of the 90’s began to cool off, Ferrara began finding it increasingly difficult to secure legitimate distribution deals without being ripped off and the majority of his output since The Funeral (1996) has found itself is one form of distribution hell or another with films like Mary (2005) and Go-Go Tales (2007) playing the festival circuit only to disappear after the fact, or in the case of a film like ’R Xmas (2001), only be booked in three theatres in the US with no advertising by a distributor that one has one print. Ferrara also experienced mistreatment by the Hollywood studio system when Warner Bros. sidelined Body Snatchers (1993) by sneaking the film into a minuscule amount of theaters. The Blackout is yet another one of Ferrara’s films to be swept aside by distributors and with this film its especially tragic seeing as its one of Ferrara’s most fascinating and stylishly grim journeys into the human psyche.

After proposing to his pregnant girlfriend Annie in Miami, hotshot movie star and addict Mattie (Matthew Modine) is shocked to lean that Annie had an abortion to prevent her child from growing up with an alcoholic and drug addicted father. Distraught, Mattie goes out partying with his eccentric director friend Mickey (Dennis Hopper) which leads to a blackout. Fast forward 18 months later and Mattie is clean and sober, now living in New York and in a stable relationship with a new girlfriend. Mattie’s past however continues to haunt him. Desperately seeking closure for how things ended with Annie, Mattie returns to Miami to finally clear his conscience although it isn’t long before he slips back into his old ways and in the process discovers the dark truth about what happened the night of his blackout.

There have been many films that have tried to recreate drug induced experiences and more often that not the results have a tendency to be rather corny. With The Blackout however, Ferrara succeeds in crafting a legitimately disorienting experience which literally does feel like stepping into the cloudy headspace of an individual on a two day bender, believably portrayed by Modine. Ferrara not only achieves this visually with hallucinatory Lynchian editing and at times changing stock going from film to video which recalls Ferrara’s earlier Dangerous Game (1993), but also in the way Ferrara has the story play out. The film is intentionally incoherent, staggering from one random scenario to another seemingly without purpose much like an actual drunken evening, the consequences of which allow Ferrara to really delve deep into the ideas of overwhelming regret and guilt later on the film (another area where Modine really shines) which again places the film side by side with Dangerous Game. Ferrara also toys around with the concept of the doppelganger and chasing the ghosts of the past ala Hitchcock and Vertigo (1958) by introducing a second Annie in the middle of the film and certain scenes between her and Mattie further blur the memories of both Mattie and the audience and steer the film into almost Robbe-Grillet territory. There is also a debauched feeling of unreality to many of the scenes featuring Dennis Hopper with Mickey’s actions not making much logical sense yet still making enough sense within the overall context of the film.

The Blackout played at the Cannes Film Festival where according to critic Dave Kehr, the film “caused a stampede” and the film played other festivals throughout 1998. Afterwards the film began to suffer the distribution woes that Ferrara has become all too familiar with, and it wasn’t until 2001 when the film finally saw a home video release. Speaking to the AV Club in 2002, Ferrara spoke candidly about the films distribution issues stating  “The story with The Blackout is unbelievable… We made a deal with Destination Films that set up a distribution system. They bought two or three films, including The Blackout, raised $100 million, and never distributed anything. Five years later, they're trying to go bankrupt, saying all that's left is $35,000 out of $100 million, even though they never distributed one film… I'm just one of a ton of people this company screwed over. Can you imagine these pricks? They're basically trying to steal $100 million. It's a fucking robbery.” Even now The Blackout still seems to be a relatively obscure title to more casual viewers even after getting its belated DVD release. While its become one of Ferrara’s most divisive films to those who’ve seen it, its yet another example of Ferrara’s knack of dealing with heavy subject matter in a manner that is both slick and gritty. A brilliant, challenging film that’s sure to leave a lasting impression.






Monday, January 9, 2017

Dangerous Game (1993)

AKA Snake Eyes

1993 was a strange year for Abel Ferrara with the maverick New Yorker helming two very worthwhile films that were unceremoniously thrown under the bus upon their respective releases. Coming off of the grimy and fiercely independent Bad Lieutenant (1992), Ferrara did something interesting and unexpected by taking on the most ambitious project of his career, Body Snatchers (1993), the third adaptation of Jack Finney’s book. Body Snatchers was a huge undertaking with the largest budget Ferrara ever had and according to Ferrara, the shoot was a nightmare plagued by studio interference and the technical challenges inherent in such large scale productions. Nevertheless, Ferrara soldiered on and delivered a fantastic sci-fi/horror film. Unfortunately the film would get buried by its own studio. After years of hype in various genre magazines and millions of dollars spent, the film essentially went direct to video after only being released in a handful of theaters. With Dangerous Game, his second film that year, Ferrara went in the complete opposite direction. Despite starring one of the biggest pop stars in the world in Madonna, Dangerous Game is one of Ferrara’s most uncommercial films, a deeply personal look into the world of filmmaking that seemed to bewilder a good number of critics upon its initial release. The Ferrara faithful however know better and over the years have rightfully championed Dangerous Game for what it truly is, a misunderstood masterpiece.

New York based director Eddie Israel (Harvey Keitel) arrives in Hollywood to begin production on his latest film entitled “Mother of Mirrors” which centers around the dissolution of a marriage between a hard partying husband and a remorseful wife who recently found religion and changed her ways. Almost immediately, the films leads Sarah Jennings (Madonna) and Frank Burns (James Russo) begin an affair and it isn’t long until Sarah finds her way into Eddie’s bed as well. The shoot quickly turns sour however with Jennings and Burns unable to get along and Eddie constantly pushing both to their emotional limits for the best performances. The more tensions on the set increase along with Eddie’s own personal transgressions gradually eating away at his conscience, the more the plot of “Mother of Mirrors” begins to mirror reality and vice-versa.

Snake Eyes”, the films alternate title couldn’t have been more apt as Dangerous Game is a venomous film featuring Ferrara’s typically downbeat outlook as well as some of screenwriter Nicholas St. John’s most vicious dialogue. In some ways the film is comparable to another film within a film, Andrzej Zulawski’s La femme publique (1984) as its been suggested that Francis Huster’s character of director Lucas Kessling was meant to be a stand in for Zulawski the same way that Keitel’s Eddie Israel could represent Ferrara himself. Again, “personal” is the adjective that could be used to define the film and at times almost uncomfortably so. There are times when the film feels confessional, particularly when Eddie confesses his infidelities to his wife, played by Nancy Ferrara, Abel’s wife at the time. Ferrara’s approach to the film within a film devise is interesting both from a narrative standpoint as well as stylistically in that its almost always obvious when a scene from “Mother of Mirrors” is being shot, however given the attitudes of the characters towards each other, what’s taking place in the film could easily be going on behind the scenes as well. The same could be said for Keitel’s pressuring of the actors which could also echo Ferrara’s own techniques which, if indeed is the case, they work as the performances are astounding. While Madonna is rightfully praised for her performance, the unsung hero of the film is James Russo who gives an unbelievably raw and fierce performance, downright visceral at times.

Dangerous Game was the first film produced by Madonna’s own Maverick Pictures and ironically it was the leading lady that led the charge against the film. In a 2002 interview with the AV Club, Ferrara remarked “It was just another one of our films that never came out. But on that one, the audience didn't really like the film. Madonna killed it. The first impression people get on a movie is the one that never gets out of their mind. So after Madonna got so trashed for doing Body of Evidence (1993), she thought she was going to beat the critics to the punch and badmouth the film. And she actually got good reviews. She never got a good review from the Voice or The New York Times in her life, but she got good reviews for this movie, which she came out and trashed. I'll never forgive her for it.” Ferrara went on to say “…I never had an actor badmouth a movie. It's just something that isn't done. But she's not a film-business person” and “ It's being paranoid and scared, and that's the reason she can't act, because she hasn't got confidence.” Whatever she or some critic may or may not think of the film at this point doesn’t matter, what does is the fact that Dangerous Game is one of Ferrara’s most confrontational, introspective, cathartic and ultimately brilliant films.




Monday, December 26, 2016

Lulu (1980)

It makes complete sense that Walerian Borowczyk would adapt Frank Wedekind's “Lulu” plays for the screen. The plays, Earth Spirit, first performed in 1895 and Pandora’s Box in 1904, attracted a considerable amount of controversy upon their premiers due to their treatment of topics considered at the time to be taboo, namely female sexuality, not unlike the controversy that would later surround Borowczyk and several of his films, for instance Immoral Tales (1974) and The Beast (1975). The plays have been adapted a few times, with the most famous being G.W. Pabst’s 1929 film version of Pandora’s Box (starting screen legend Louise Brooks in the role of Lulu) which was first brought to the screen in 1921 by Arzén von Cserépy whereas Earth Spirit was made into a film by Leopold Jessner in 1923. The plays were also turned into an opera via Alban Berg in 1937 and severed as the inspiration for the 2011 album Lulu, the notorious and fiercely divisive collaborative effort between Lou Reed and Metallica. Borowczyk’s version is somewhat of a hidden gem in his filmograpgy. Easily Borowczyk’s most neglected film, Lulu may lack the scandalous reputation of some of Borowczyk’s more well known films and the source material may be Wedekind’s, however said material was prime for a Boro treatment and the resulting film is unmistakably Borowczyk and one of his most interesting films from a stylistic standpoint.

For Lulu, Borowczyk combined both Earth Spirit and Pandora’s Box, detailing the downfall of the titular Lulu (Anne Bennent), a young dancer married to the much older Dr. Goll, who drops dead of a heart attack after discovering Lulu cavorting with Schwarz, a painter whom Lulu was modeling for. Lulu and Schwarz soon marry, although that too ends in tragedy and Lulu soon finds herself married to the affluent Dr. Schoen (Heniz Bennent). Lulu’s luck takes a turn for the worse however when she finds herself implicit in Schoen’s death which sends her and her lover Alwa, Schoen’s son, onto the streets where Lulu is forced into prostitution and makes the fateful decision of taking on Jack the Ripper (Udo Kier) as a client.

If Lulu is remembered for anything its for “featuring Udo Kier as Jack the Ripper!” and while its true that Kier is amazingly wild-eyed and menacing in the role, ultimately it’s a very brief appearance and Lulu has much more going for it than one scene. What makes Lulu a fascinating film is Borowczyk’s approach and handling of the Lulu character. There have been many interpretations of the character over the years, with some claiming that Lulu was a misogynist creation, that her fall from grace was a punishment resulting from her promiscuity while others see Lulu as a positive example of liberated female sexuality. The later is most certainly more akin to Borowczyk’s tastes, with the celebrating of uninhibited females a constant in his work and Lulu is no different. Borowczyk presents Lulu as an archetypal “free spirit” who refuses to be tied down and is eventually brought down not by her lack of inhibitions, but rather the selfish and domineering men that surround her and wish to control her all for themselves. Lulu’s frivolous nature is perfectly captured by Ann Bennent who always has a whimsical nature to her even during the later portion of the film when Lulu is living in squalor which makes the outcome of the film all the more unfortunate. Being based on a play, Borowczyk directs in an appropriate fashion, having the film play out over the course of five confined and meticulously composed scenes, or “acts”, complete with precise staging and Borowczyk’s typically voyeuristic idiosyncrasies.

German actor Heinz Bennent who plays Lulu’s third husband Dr. Schoen was in fact lead actress Anne Bennent’s father. The following year Bennent would go on to work with another Polish master, playing the role of the wonderfully eccentric and hilariously zen Heinrich in Andrzej Zulawski’s Possession (1981). Udo Kier would of course work with Borowczyk again the following year playing Dr. Henry Jekyll in Borowczyk’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Miss Osborune (1981). While being interviewed for DVD release of Dr. Jekyll, Kier described working with Borowczyk as amazing due to his aesthetic mindedness and specifically singled out his scene in Lulu as Jack the Ripper, stating that Borowczyk took an unusual amount of time in getting the position of the hat Kier was wearing in the scene just right. Interestingly, Kier also reminisces about Borowczyk wanting him to play the role of the infamous French child murderer and compadre of Joan of Arc, Gilles de Rais in a film centering around his trial although the film never came to fruition. Just one of several projects Borowczyk was unable to find support for in the 80’s. Lulu however did get made and again, the film may be one of Borowczyk’s most ignored but the films visual design along with Borowczyk’s approach to Wedekind’s plays and the instances of Boro’s odd humor make Lulu well worth the time for Borowczyk fans.