"All the eyes of the city will be ours!"
Now this one came out of nowhere and managed to sink its claws firmly into the psyche, somewhat reflecting the occurrences in its bizarre story. Spanish filmmaker Bigas Luna taps some of the classic horror essentials in a tribute of sorts and demonstrates the true power of cinema in a manner that is effective enough to get under your skin.
It is quite difficult to outline the plot synopsis of "Anguish" (1987) without spoiling some of the fun, but as an entry point in order to pique the interest of the viewer/reader, it is sufficient to say that what we are dealing with are at least two parallel stories, occurring in two different universes. One of the major narrative strands deals with a psychotic old mother, Ms. Pressman, the fabulously over the top Zelda Rubinstein, who sends her only son John (Michael Lerner), an optometrist, out to murder people via hypnosis and mind control, so that he can gouge their eyes out and bring them home to add to her eye-collection!
In a separate narrative, a disturbingly violent film playing in the theater begins to have an effect on its audiences, with many of them showing visible signs of discomfort and anxiety. In particular, a teenage girl in the audience suspects something grossly wrong as she begins to feel giddy and senses a sinister, murdering presence lurking within the theater. Incidentally, the film playing on screen also depicts a murderous psychopath storming a movie theater....
Bigas Luna bases his film on a gimmick that thankfully doesn't come off as forced or cheap and justifies its presence in the context of his story. The result is a cracker of a film with intertwined tales, intelligent juxtapositions and narrative ideas that are wholly original, despite stylistic borrowings from Italian horror maestros Dario Argento (in the visuals, lighting effects, atmosphere) and Lucio Fulci (in the gore department), albeit with a lot of polish, enhanced production values and crisp photography, that saves "Anguish" from the B-movie tackiness.
The
segment involving mother Pressman and her son John, in particular boasts
of some of the finest hypnotic imagery and the most imaginative sound
design ever; something that David Lynch would surely be proud of. In a
particularly disorienting scene of brainwashing, there are some trippy
visuals and sonic effects that literally mess with your head and throw
you in a trance. The Pressmans' home decor itself renders a surrealistic
touch, what with its collection of strange artefacts, small birds and
animals including metaphorical snails the mother uses to describe her
son ("Hiding, happy..") in a mantra in one of her procedures. The insanity, the dominating mother, the weirdo son and the birds, all combine to form a nice little Hitchcock homage as well.
The setting and premise of the other narrative thread of the movie theater does bring to mind Lamberto Bava's horror classic "Demons" (1985), but Luna's film definitely trumps it in almost every department by a huge margin, if not the gore department. That isn't to discredit the gore in Luna's film; it is very much there in adequate doses, and some of the sequences are downright quease-inducing!
The
references are not limited to other cinematic works but to cinema
itself, as a medium that is capable of enslaving the audiences who are
willing to submit themselves to its immersive power. Cinema has the ability to transport the viewer to another time and place.
An involving
film makes the viewer a part of the narrative, and with "Anguish", Luna
takes this idea several steps further and makes it literal. Boundaries
are crossed, and mediums collapse upon each other, rendering the
distinction invisible. The choice of eyes as Ms Pressman's collectibles and the quote above are not random. Eyes is the primary means of perception and with Ms Pressman owning the eyes, the film in Luna's film and Luna's film itself owns its respective audiences!
John Carpenter pulled off the idea of crossing the barrier between the dimensions of fiction and reality really well in his "In the Mouth of Madness" (1994). In that film, the power of written fiction has an effect on its fans and they go insane. Luna's film came seven years before Carpenter's and, albeit not explicitly, Luna dabbles with a similar idea, with a very inventive film-within-film-within-film trope that works brilliantly. Luna also juggles multiple narrative threads quite skilfully as they meld or cross paths in some meticulous editing choices, often throwing the viewer off guard by almost obfuscating the line between distinct narratives and in this case, even between celluloid and actuality!
Michael Lerner and Zelda Rubinstein add to the delight of the film with their outstanding performances, mixing deliciously creepy and darkly hilarious together, acts that they clearly seem to be enjoying, while the teen girls in the theater and other cast members somehow disappoint with their half-baked acts and stilted mannerisms and line delivery.
The acting in the theater segment doesn't become so much an eyesore however, thanks to Luna's handling of the material that rises above the problem areas. He keeps it all considerably tense by constantly playing with the viewers' minds and expectations with disconcerting imagery, remarkable sound effects and startling plot shifts, eventually culminating in an unpredictable and chilling finale that aptly reflects the old idiom, "It's not over, 'til it's over", and compels you to stick around till the final credit roll.
Score: 8/10
You have to hand it to these Spaniards! Rarely does a Spanish thriller disappoint in delivering what is expected of it, and Oriol Paulo's "El Cuerpo" (aka "The Body") (2012) is no exception. This is the kind of film that does justice to the oft-used term, Hitchcockian.
The dead body of a very rich and powerful woman, Mayka Villavarde (Belén Rueda) mysteriously disappears from the morgue. The police officials and morgue personnel are all equally flummoxed by the bizarre happening, especially after learning that the woman apparently died of a heart attack and her body was awaiting autopsy. In fact, the incident comes to light, after the night security guard gets run over by a speeding vehicle when he runs for his life, apparently upon witnessing something frightful in the morgue that night. Did someone steal the body? Who would have anything to gain from doing something like that? Or could the dead woman have walked, scaring the living daylights out of the guard? Police captain Jaime Peña (José Coronado) attempts to solve the mystery.
Oriol Paulo plays it like a pro and structures his screenplay in a clever non-linear fashion just as any intelligent mystery film of the sort. Peeling off layers gradually, revealing in bits, he works like a magician, springing a surprise on his unsuspecting audiences periodically, and ensuring that they are locked in, in awe at his sleight of hand. Consequently, the central characters of this deadly puzzle are introduced to the viewers in a calculated manner, clearly gauging or predicting the kind of reactions they are supposed to elicit.
In a series of well-timed flashbacks that would remind the viewer of the recent David Fincher thriller "Gone Girl" (2014), Paulo throws some good light on the nature of his characters, especially on the kind of relationship shared by Mayka and her much younger husband Alex (Hugo Silva) who now becomes a prime suspect. Although, it is revealed early on that Alex is involved in the death of Mayka, it is also made clear that he is clueless about the disappearance of her corpse. It appears that Mayka has Alex under her thumb, and he is tired of her dominating ways. An affair with a younger girl is also brought to the surface in the beginning, so we are well aware of Alex's character.
While this early revelation could be deemed as a writing flaw, it is in fact, a wise decision on Paulo's part, because it does away with that one predictable angle associated with a murder plot such as this. By making us aware, Paulo compels us to lay it to rest that this is a mystery of Mayka's murder. It isn't! It is in fact, the mystery of her post-death disappearance! Or is it?
Clues begin to pop up out of nowhere, mysterious notes and messages reminding Alex of some secret conversations with Mayka begin to find their way to him (also similar to the "Gone Girl" treasure hunt, especially in the way these clues, almost always shift the narrative to a flashback). He figures that someone who's well aware of what transpired between him and Mayka could be doing this. But somewhere at the back of his mind that shred of doubt prevails; could she still be alive? Just when Alex thought he had erased everything to do with her, it threatens to come back, and as luck would have it, his attempts to flush out any last bit of evidence implicating him refuses to ..well, get flushed, literally!
While the audience is made aware of Alex's connection to his wife's apparent death, the police captain Jaime already has all his attention focused on Alex, owing to his body language and communication that's all wrong for a man whose wife died just a few hours ago. Paralleling Jaime's intimidating behaviour towards Alex, Paulo also makes us
privy to the fact, that Jaime, isn't
the invincible hero, or an epitome of perfection himself. He is a fragile, troubled
man, battling with loneliness and a volatile temper, that presumably
once, caused his suspension.
It is essential for any thriller to make sure that the tension in the narrative remains intact and never lets up. In this department, Paulo aces it almost effortlessly and dares you to even bat an eyelid! While the devious plot machinations keep you on the edge, Paulo throws in a bonus with some absorbing drama centered around the face-off of Alex and Jaime.
Thanks to the solid performances by the two actors, their confrontations and battle of words/wits are a treat to watch. The events take place over a few hours in the night, almost entirely in and around the morgue, with the setting shifting elsewhere only in flashbacks, rendering an aptly claustrophobic atmosphere. When the action rests easy in a few places (only tiny bits), Paulo allows you to soak in the seductive atmosphere of the stormy night with its moody lighting and brooding characters contemplating away while blowing smoke in the rain.
"El Cuerpo" is a classy noir thriller that creates intrigue by striking a neat balance between a riveting plot and fascinating characters. With its baffling twists, some genuinely chilling sequences and necessary red herrings, it boasts of nerve-shredding suspense right until the very end in a hair-raising climax, with a conclusion that may raise a few eyebrows of amazement, shock or even disapproval. Sure, when one thinks back and analyzes, not everything will end up tied in a neat little logical box. There are implausibilities, but they certainly aren't impossibilities. It is the craft that triumphs here and more than makes up for the plot deficiencies.
Queue this one up in your watchlist. Best watched on a cold, rainy night!
Nothing would quite prepare you for this dark, macabre story set in Spain of the 1950s. What begins as a quiet, but unsettling exploration of a not-so-perfect sisterhood soon turns into a disturbing, explosive tale of blood-soaked murder and mayhem, the kind of stuff nightmares are made of.
A freaky looking seamstress, Montse (Macarena Gómez) resides with her much younger sister (Nadia de Santiago). Montse suffers from a psychological disorder, possibly a form of agoraphobia, that prevents her from stepping outside her door. For years, the god-fearing, religiously devout Montse has lived within the confines of her moderate apartment and raised the sister single-handedly, for their mother died while giving birth to the younger one, and their controlling father left them for the war and never returned.
Montse's hard life and illness has clearly taken a toll on her being, something she manages to hide from her patrons, in particular, the kindly Dona Puri (Gracia Olayo). The sister doesn't like her domineering ways, but does not have much choice, for they only have each other as family, and all said and done, she owes it to Montse for taking care of her all along.
Chance brings a stranger to their door, a handsome young neighbour (Hugo Silva) residing upstairs, who seeks help at Montse's door after falling down some stairs. A reluctant Montse lets him in, and nurses him. His arrival creates ripples in the scheme of things, especially after Montse's altruism gradually takes malevolent form.
"Shrew's Nest" (2014), the title alludes to the way of life of certain rat species who hide away in underground burrows far away from other animals. They appear harmless but also possess some venomous glands. The lead character Montse is somewhat similar. In fact, this film is more a showcase of this woman's strange psychosis. She is quite protective of her sister and has raised her with care, despite her troubled state of mind. However, one glimpse of the sister with a boy invites her wrath and the girl is punished with a cane!
This wrath is much more than a product of mere protectiveness, as shades of jealousy are also seen in this woman deprived of any kind of healthy relationship with a man. The evidence of a life ruined under the shadow of a tyrannical father (Luis Tosar, in yet another chilling performance) is unearthed in the form of flashbacks that meld with Montse's present reality in intelligently filmed scenes that blur the line between hallucinations and memories. Her general attitude towards certain things hint at a stringent adherence to religious beliefs, but her views are definitely muddled and it is easy to see why.
We also learn that perhaps her agoraphobia stems from being denied the freedom to go out of the house from an early age. Montse is a character portrait that simultaneously evokes feelings of sadness as well as resentment. Montse's current existence is the unfortunate result of a family tragedy and subsequent affected upbringing. This plot development is not without some usual cliches associated with justifying the mental instability of certain dangerous characters in cinema, but somehow the handling of Montse's character is much more sensitive and hence perhaps, far more believable. She is a victim as well as a perpetrator at the same time, thereby making it difficult for the viewer to take sides. Macarena Gómez portrays Montse with a rare sincerity, in an act that is the backbone of this film. She delivers a powerful performance, that's aptly over-the-top and fitting the behavioural pattern; exactly the kind of reactive, nervous wreck that Montse is expected to be.
The root cause of the situation in the film is the neighbour, Carlos played by Hugo Silva. His predicament brings obvious memories of Rob Reiner's "Misery" (1990). He is no James Caan, but with whatever material the script offers him, he puts up a decent performance. Carlos also harbours a secret, and the events leading up to his falling down the stairs are revealed much later, again somewhat ruffling up viewer perceptions. The introduction of a character closely related to him leads to a major shift in the events and some very heart-stopping moments.
The ultimate onus is left with the younger sister who has to cope with something much more than what her sister has unleashed. The situation gets out of hand in the third act and we enter a territory that is darkly comic, violent and gory as hell! Surprises are thrown at the viewer at various junctures, although there is one major twist that one can see coming. No harm is done, however, to the momentum or the overall quality of the picture in any way.
"Shrew's Nest" is another solid offering from Spanish horror. This is delicious, wicked fun at its best; thrilling enough for anyone to have a bloody good weekend.
