The Legend of Suram Fortress (1984)

The young son of a serf, long granted freedom by his master, sacrifices his life by letting himself be entombed alive within the brick walls of the Suram Fortress to keep it from crumbling. Or so the ancient Georgian legend goes. Daniel Chonqadze first adopted this folk tale into his book. Sergei Parajanov, one of the most unique and controversial voices in the Soviet Union, made a film out of this folklore in his own cinematic language and the results were.....beyond extraordinary!

This is Parajanov's first film after a ban of nearly 15 years which included a couple of periods of imprisonment. Parajanov was always in the bad books of the Soviet authorities, thanks to his artistically rebellious ways that defied convention, especially the socialist realist style, which was the only authorized art form at the time. The political environment began to cool down by the mid 80s and that is when Parajanov was finally able to deliver an unrestrained product, true to the style he embraced in his first two acclaimed works that led to all the turmoil (not considering anything that came before 1964's "Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors" that he publicly disowned).

With a little help from influential actor/director Dodo Abashidze, a recharged Parajanov bounced back in 1984 with "The Legend of Suram Fortress". How ironic though that the filmmaker marked his return with a film about the son of a slave, a man in bondage. Despite attaining freedom, his son ultimately ends up being immured alive within the brick walls of a fortress, in order to strengthen it. Once a slave, forever a slave; ultimately his doomed destiny leads him to be shackled in death! It eerily mirrors Parajanov's own life as a slave to the system who was sacrificed by being restrained by the powers that be in order to strengthen their positions and safeguard the interests of their nation!

Parajanov is in top form here, despite the hiatus, and adds his own signature flavour to a seemingly simple tale infused with its fantastical elements and magical realism. This is a story rife with its princes, warriors, fortune-tellers, unfulfilled love, valour, revenge and sacrifice, a tale the likes of which you may have heard orally from your grandmothers as children and passed on through generations.

The director presents to the audience, his astounding vision of the said lore, and paints a living, breathing canvas, brimming with bedazzling colours, breathtaking imagery and rich symbolism that is out of this world. The plot moves, but not in the manner you would expect it to. The narrative is rather fragmented, sometimes disjoint and disorienting, in the form of a series of vignettes or tableaux. Each of these vignettes is quite poetic in its approach, with some stylized, off-kilter dialog that allows us to make some sense of the story and its proceedings. There are visible jump cuts, a pace that is uneven, sudden, hurried shifts and time leaps that may mystify and not be very easy to follow but a couple of viewings are enough to sufficiently comprehend it all.

The episodic, fractured nature of the screenplay could be likened to an interrupted, partially broken dream stemming from a distorted, fading memory of age-old fables, that lose some of their threads, as certain bits and pages get lost in transition across generations. A generous dose of bizarre, surreal visuals add to its oneiric qualities and so does the unsettling, eerie musical score and sound design. It is interesting how the sound quality of some of the spoken words is modulated in certain scenes producing an echo or distant effect. Accentuating the phantasmagorical and even theatrical nature of the screenplay is the choice of filming locations. It is notable that most of the scenes are filmed outdoors, barring a few that are shot indoors.

Many of these outdoor sequences appear to take place at a common location, with the backdrop of two statues. This location is what appears to be the ruins of the Suram fortress. However, the same backdrop is used even in sequences that take place across different timelines. It almost acts like a common stage for the actors in the film. There's an anachronistic blink and miss moment, difficult to spot if one is not paying careful attention but its a mystery as to why the filmmaker makes such a choice. Perhaps it is there for no real reason and is just another addition to some of the randomness strewn about. Or perhaps it's a subtle joke about how all time was one; and even the situation in modern day USSR was just as archaic!

The camera technique and choices of filming itself is a display of eccentricity, and in a good way, of course. Most scenes begin with closeup static shots of certain artifacts, animals or birds. Then in others, the camera moves back to such a distance that it is impossible to spot the tiny characters in a frame! All that is visible are the picturesque, vast open landscapes. As is the case with most Parajanov films, there is a great emphasis on culture, in this case, the Georgian culture. The lavish costumes, masks, makeup, the music and dance, and even acrobatics such as tight-rope walking and other stunts are in abundance.

Films like "The Legend of Suram Fortress" don't get made often. Filmmakers like Sergei Parajanov who dare to speak a radical language, don't come by often either. This film is Parajanov's unsung masterpiece that deserves to be recognized among his greatest achievements. It is likely that it may frustrate some viewers with its peculiar storytelling approach, but others who connect with it would revel in its enchanting, mystical grandeur.

Score: 10/10

The Curse (1987)

"And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a torch, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters, and many men died of the waters." - Revelations of St. John, Chapter 8.

Director David Keith and screenwriter David Chaskin dumb down and oversimplify some religious quotes to find a connection to the sci-fi horror brand of H.P. Lovecraft, specifically his short story, "The Colour Out of Space". Nevertheless, in the attempt, they do deliver some fairly watchable B-horror schlock that has its moments, with a little help from the undisputed king of gore, Lucio Fulci!

It all begins one fateful night when a giant glowing ball of fire, presumably a meteorite crashes on the self sufficient farm land of the devout and almost fanatical Christian, Nathan Crane (Claude Akins). Crane resides with his oafish lard of a son, Cyrus, his beautiful wife Frances (Kathleen Jordon Gregory) and his stepchildren Zachary (Wil Wheaton) and Alice (Amy Wheaton). The event is unexplainable, as is the origin of the rock. The only local scientist/physician around, Dr. Forbes (Cooper Huckabee) isn't able to do much with his knowledge. Overnight, the rock glows, shrinks and finally melts into the ground. But ever since, something begins to go wrong on the farm, starting with the water from the farm well turning putrid, and then eventually affecting the crops, the livestock and the inhabitants of the house themselves, mentally as well as physically.

Of course, as cliche' would have it, there is a strong atmosphere of denial. The strict, curmudgeon, bible-verses-spewing Nathan refuses to believe that anything is amiss, despite Frances showing visible ugly warts on her face and symptoms of insanity, as well as the deteriorating quality of food and water. Only when things go horribly out of control, does he believe that something is indeed wrong, except, he blames it all on Frances who has a one night stand with the temporary hired farmhand, thereby sinning and bringing upon a curse on the family! Only Zack recognizes the problem and keeps himself and his sister Alice away from their food and water and smuggles supplies from town and the neighbours' property.

Keith's film is not a great one by a long shot, but thanks to a strong and intriguing concept, a crisp length and some insane events unfolding on screen, he manages to deliver an entertaining and sometimes hilarious (perhaps unintentionally so) sci-fi/gore film. Zack's predicament, and his struggle to keep himself and his sister safe while his mother disintegrates, is palpable, what with his minor age and his stepfather's draconian ways. While the actors themselves do leave a lot to be desired, Keith delivers by subjecting his characters to some squirm-in-your-seat treatment that makes it all work. 

Gore genius Lucio Fulci was brought in to monitor the special effects and therefore, do expect a lot of gooey, pus-like seepage, from practically everything including vegetables that look very rich and nutritious on the outside but ooze some thick, foul juice from the inside! Adding to genuine horror fun are a full, fresh crop of apples full of maggots and rotting insides, and characters going gradually insane along with their physique exhibiting visible malformations, as they regurgitate and start melting away! 

There's some unnecessary comic relief, even slapstick, in the form of subplots with side characters including the selfish realtor Davidson (Steve Carlisle) and his fly swatting secretary, a Tennesee Valley Authority representative Willis (John Schneider), and Dr. Forbes' comely wife Esther (Hope North). Most actors are either wooden or over-the-top, or unintentionally funny, including Claude Akins and his way too hyper bible rantings and slap-happy ways. 

Malcolm Danare mostly irritates, even when he gorges on his food like a pig, and seems to wear only one set of clothing in the entire film! Wheaton's act is artificial and mannered, while Kathleen Jordan Gregory has to wear zombie makeup way too soon and thus her acting is mostly limited to a display of demented histrionics, which is a good thing in the context of the film.

Keith's film has a few logical holes and technical issues to take some plot developments very seriously. While the gory nastiness is mostly well handled, it is the other effects, in some areas, where the tackiness shows. There are some (un)pleasant surprises in the narrative, but overall it is not difficult to guess where the story would eventually head. The final twenty odd minutes come off as a wrap-up job with a deus ex machina coming into play along with usual climactic cliches. Another aspect that lets down is Franco Micalizzi's Italo disco like booming soundtrack that is totally wrong is some of the more tense sequences, thereby rendering them slightly damp.

Despite its problems, "The Curse" remains faithful to Lovecraft's story to a large extent. It is this story and the generous display of putrefaction that keep the film together and could please a gore hound, nevertheless. This reviewer had fond memories of watching the film at the age of 12, when procuring films on VHS was a task and the intricacies of the craft of filmmaking were overlooked in favour of a decent enough plot with a good dose of icky visuals. The film does not hold up as much now, upon a rewatch 20 years on though, but still qualifies as a decent pick for a weekend midnight screening of some good old B-Horror, with an additional point for nostalgic value.

Score: 7/10

Double Suicide (1969)

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players". 

Masahiro Shinoda, a prominent figure of the Japanese New Wave, gives the above phrase from William Shakespeare's "As you Like it" (1600), its most literal interpretation in his "Double Suicide" (1969), where Shakespearean tragedy meets Bunraku, the traditional Japanese puppet theatre.

Adapting Monzaemon Chikamatsu's "The Love Suicides at Amijima", a 1721 play originally written for the Bunraku puppet theatre, Shinoda transcends the boundaries of experimental cinema by seamlessly fusing two great forms of art, theatre and cinema, while retaining its traditional Japanese ethos. The story revolves around a paper merchant Jihei, who is madly in love with Koharu, a courtesan. Only Jihei is a married man, with two children and hence their love is a forbidden one. Since Jihei is not financially well off to redeem or buy out Koharu, the two decide to end their lives in a suicide pact, seeing death as the only possible conclusion to their ill-fated love story. There are twists and turns in the narrative that unfolds with an operatic intensity, as it marches towards its inevitable, bone-chilling culmination.

But the tale is an age old one, depicting the classical conflict between duty towards society and personal feelings/desires, and it is not really what catches our attention. What stands out and towers over most other products of cinema is Shinoda's unique vision, his realization of this vision and the medium he chooses to tell this story. And hence, in an opening that throws us off guard, we are treated to what looks like a 'making of' feature of a puppet play with the crew's verbal exchanges regarding certain acts and set design of the play. We are given a glimpse of the Kuroko, the stagehands in traditional Japanese theatre, preparing for this puppet play. The Kuroko are actually people dressed up entirely in black, from head to toe. They are so dressed, for they are supposed to be invisible to the proceedings on stage and are merely there to hand out props to the players, move sets between acts, and assist in quick scene and stage changes. 

Post the credits, the story begins, only not with puppets but with human actors, with a deliberate, stagey set design that looks like a stage in a theatre, while retaining the Kuroko anyway, who double up as stagehands as well as puppeteers! Thus, throughout the film, these hooded black figures are omnipresent, sometimes providing a voice-over narration between scenes, or explaining a particular prop in a scene, by literally freezing the action! This device in no way distracts and in fact, makes our jaw drop, for little by little, we realize what Shinoda really intends with this deliberate technique employed in the case of "Double Suicide". The way these figures appear during some key sequences and hand over objects to carry out the next inevitable scene, spell out their role in this entire affair. They are literally the hands of fate, puppet-masters, angels, or Gods, if you must, manipulating these characters and executing their destiny.

There is never a dull moment in the proceedings, and if the acting seems theatrical and the drama heightened, it is only to accentuate the roots of its literary source. The events move at a breathless pace, and there is a rawness as well as an opera-like flourish in the amplified, energetic performances. While the sets are non-realistic, the characters realistic and the drama intensely hyperbolic, the inclusion of the Kuroko give the film its surrealistic touch, and hence makes us witness a stylized, artistic blend hitherto unseen! The sets look grotesque and claustrophobic at times.

In the beginning, we get a glimpse of sets with walls painted with the ukiyo-e style black and white figures. Later in the scenes taking place in the abode of Jihei, there is a strange inkblot background. The central conflict troubling Jihei in his love affair is that between duty towards his family, i.e. his wife Osan and his own personal passion towards the prostitute/courtesan Koharu. In an ingenious casting decision, both Koharu and Osan are played by the same actress Shima Iwashita, Shinoda's real life wife, thus, symbolically giving equal weight to both ends of the spectrum with Jihei in the center, being torn apart. A similar casting choice in which the wife and the mistress is played by the same actress was used in the recent Kim Ki-Duk shocker "Moebius" (2013).

It is noteworthy how the action moves entirely from the claustrophobic interiors of most of the film to the open, spaced out landscapes when death becomes finally inevitable. A metaphorical choice of backdrops, depicting the internal turmoil of the lovers, perhaps, as death symbolizes freedom?

Noted composer Tôru Takemitsu has composed the music for the film and is also credited as a co-screenwriter. No surprise then, that "Double Suicide" illustrates one of the most perfect marriages of sound and visuals. The chiaroscuro lighting effect with sharp cinematography emphasizing the high contrast between black and white enhances the bleak beauty of the imagery, especially in the stunning final frames in which light and dark appear at their most disparate extreme, as dark silhouettes are seen from a distance in a bright background. It is also during this time that the musical score soars up to a hair-raising intensity and overwhelms with its powerful impact.

Apart from the offbeat narrative technique, the performances are a major driving force in cementing the status of "Double Suicide" as essential cinema. Kichiemon Nakamura who appeared in Kaneto Shindo's werecat horror film "Kuroneko" (1968) delivers a powerhouse performance that almost rivals the fantastic Shima Iwashita's impassioned act in a dual role.

"Double Suicide" is a masterpiece of the much revered Japanese New Wave of cinema. It is a rare film that stays firmly rooted to its country's traditions but takes giant leaps with a confidence of winning universal acclaim. Do yourself a favour and witness this bold and beautiful film spectacle. In all probabilities you may have never seen anything like it.

Score: 10/10