My favorites from 2006

My viewing was limited this year, but here's the 10 best of all I saw:

1. LUNAR SEAS – Likely to be perceived as an elitist or pretentious pick it also happens to be an honest one. I discovered this film, posted by the filmmaker (Kristian Zaklynsky), on a wonderful torrent site I frequent. This non-narrative masterpiece served as his thesis film for the Iceland Academy of the Arts. It consists of 32 segments, all varying in length, tone, and technique – too varied, in fact, to go into detail here (I plan on writing about it at length in the near future). A true example of film as art, it was the most involving and rewarding filmic experience I had all year.

2. THE DEPARTED – Scorsese’s use of Irish themed punkers The Dropkick Murphys during the belated opening title sequence attests to his ability to remain current even into his sixties. This, his first great film since GOODFELLAS, owes much to the brilliant performance of Leonardo DiCaprio and the rest of the cast. A relatively rare, plot driven endeavor that preserves some flashes of vintage Marty, makes for the most entertaining film of the year.

3. LIGHTS IN THE DUSK – Bressonian subtlety utilized in a somber noir comedy from director Aki Kaurismäki. Unique in its lyrical restraint, sparse dialogue and refreshingly economic storytelling; the magic resides in the details. This was my first experience with Kaurismäki. He revealed himself as a master of the language of film, my favorite example being the communication of a pending double cross communicated using nothing more than the timely application of make-up. It’s moments like these that make me love film.

4. INVISIBLE WAVES – Another first for me, this time it was with Pen-Ek Ratanaruang. Again, I was very impressed even with the high expectations. INVISIBLE WAVES was a surreal, sometimes comedic, mystery which rewarded the viewer with new discoveries (and mysteries) with every viewing. This is the type of movie you want everyone to see so you can hear their interpretation of it.

5. BLOKADA – A pastiche of unbelievably well shot archival footage, from the blockade of St. Petersburg in the early ‘40s, arranged into a haunting and devastating 52 minute meditation. Long takes of marching soldiers create a hopeless hypnotic trance, a la Béla Tarr’s WERKMEISTER HARMONIES, a feeling that permeates the entire film. Think Resnais NIGHT AND FOG sans narration.

6. THE HOST – The best popcorn movie of the year, so good in fact I don’t think it’s a popcorn movie at all. Unforgettable images and unpredictable plot twists. Another glossy big budget effort from Korea, so this isn’t Hollywood - no one is safe. The deployment of the orange chemicals and the chaos that ensues at the end of the film was the grandest closing sequence of the year.

7. SHEITAN – Crazy and fun with a terrific young cast lead by veteran Vincent Cassel who some how manages to make a racist and insane character cute and likable. Contradictory blends of adjectives like these define the film and help set it apart from the trickle-soon-to-cum-deluge of horror product spilling out of the contemporary French scene.

8. PERVERT! – A low budget tribute to Russ Meyer splashed with cheesy horror elements that are truer to the spirit of yesteryear’s exploiters than anything by Tarantino thus far (and I’m a Tarantino fan). Quite possibly the CITIZEN KANE of shot-on-video genre trash.

9. THE QUEEN – An involving docudrama accentuated nicely with Frear’s use of actual footage. Delightfully less dry than I was anticipating, it managed to create interest for a subject I prior had none.
10. OLD JOY – An American indie with a European ethos. I think it would have been better served without the music from Yo La Tengo, allowing the natural sounds to take over during the contemplative transition montages. That aside, OLD JOY does a fantastic job of connecting the audience, not with the characters, but rather the situation. My experience with this film felt more like a hike to the hot springs than a trip to the cine.

THE MOTEL (Palm Pictures Series #2)

Within the contemporary independent film scene the comedy has been reduced to a monotonous formula defined by rigid framing, insecure characters, awkward dialogue, and often, a predilection towards child sexuality. It ostensibly started with Jim (MYSTERY TRIAN) Jarmusch followed closely by his cinematographer/protégée Tom (THE REAL BLONDE) DiCillo and has morphed slightly through the films of Wes Anderson and Todd Solondz. THE MOTEL manages to cover all the bases of said formula (even down to the ubiquitous pastel ad campaign) without adding anything new to the mix. It amounts to little more than a piece of flaccid, unfunny Sundance fodder.

The story hinges on the burgeoning sexuality of Ernest, a shy teen boy living in a motel ran by his distant and strict mother. Ernest is about as uninteresting as a protagonist can be, so bland in fact that you kind of route for his bully (a trashy teenager staying at the motel). The bullying is only one of Ernie’s problems though; he wrote a story his mother won’t read, falls in love with his best friend, and starts hanging out with a promiscuous alcoholic loser staying at the motel. The “alcoholic” character functions as Ernest’s alter-ego prodding him to overcome his shyness and try new things. Even as the story’s resident bad-boy character he somehow manages to be as banal as our pathetic lead. Many of the pitfalls boil down to poor scripting. Take for example the predictability of every major plot point: 1) We know his mother’s eventually going to read the story and be touched by it (gag!). 2) Ernest will screw up his relationship with his best friend due to his new found crush (of course). 3) And he’ll discover that his alcoholic alter ego is nothing more than a big loser that complicates his life (big surprise).

To be fair, some of the writing sucks by design. For instance, Ernest’s dialog rings very true for a lame 13-year-old. Unfortunately, the musings of a lame 13-year-old aren’t all that interesting or fulfilling. All things considered the cast does a serviceable job, they just weren’t given fleshed out characters or decent lines. A great actor can sell a bad line. Alec Baldwin and Denzel Washington excel in this area. Director Michael Kang’s young cast isn’t quite in their league yet, causing us to cringe at the insipid dialogue they’re forced to deliver. The cringe inducing dialogue peaks with the scene in which Ernest and his alcoholic buddy scream up to god that they “just want to be happy!” I just wanted them to stop. The derivative look of the film is handled competently, leaving us to wonder what Kang could accomplish if he did more than just parade out the current indie/comedy tropes.
The one thing the film has going for it is a strong crisp ending consisting of a single tear streaking down Ernest’s chubby face. It tells us everything we need to know. Another positive - at 76 minutes it is mercifully short.

13 TZAMETI (Palm Pictures series #1)

France has become the new home of the gritty, visceral film. It was/is the country of choice for sensational provocateurs Michael Haneke and Gaspar Noé and currently nurtures the most interesting and/or popular contemporary horror films, Kim Chapiron’s SATAN (SHEITAN), Alexandre Aja’s HIGH TENSION (HAUTE TENSION), and Fabrice Du Welz’s THE ORDEAL (CALVAIRE). 13 TZAMETI isn’t a horror film or even very gory, but it’s as austere as any of these films.

A claustrophobic semi-neo-noir, masterfully photographed by Tariel Meliava, the film tells the story of an underground gambling ring that plays an orgiastic version of Russian roulette. Thirteen participants (desperate people in need of cash) form a circle and aim a gun, loaded with a pre-determined amount of bullets, at the head of the player in front of them and after three delayed rounds a winner is determined. Wealthy men wager large sums on the players they think will survive. Sébastien, our down-on-his-luck protagonist, unwittingly became a participant after assuming the identity of a dead man, lured by the rumor of quick cash.

A wonderfully simple premise it’s prone to dynamic interpretations including sports obsession, gambling extremes, and most fascinating of all, as allegory for the American political structure. The exploitation of the poor, in the name of greed, is the most predominant idea explored by the film. Each participant (read: citizen) is associated with at least one coach or sponsor, essentially a representative (read: politician) put in place to keep the participant under control and focused on the job at hand. The moments between rounds are as excruciating as the game itself. The misery in the tiny crowded room that the participants wait in while the wagers are placed is nearly unbearable. You can smell the sticky sweat and taste the muggy air, a credit to the spot on performances and the grainy black and white photography. Many of the participants take this time to inject morphine, provided by the organization (read: government) running the event, to calm their nerves. This, of course, alludes to the belief held by many that the government pumps drugs into the poor sections of cities as a means of oppression.

The participants take all the risk, do all the work, while the fat cats just sit back and rake in the dough from their wagers. After the “winning” participant has risked his life and made unimaginable amounts of money for the representatives and the organization, he is expected to tip (taxes) not only them, but the men who organized the event. I don’t think I’m ruining anything by telling you that Sébastien comes out the victor, but the following sentences may contain information you don’t want to know. After escaping from the organization (he fears they plan on killing him) Sébastien hops a train. On the train he runs into the brother/representative of the man he killed in the final round. Instead of lashing out at the system responsible for his brother’s death, the man turns on the hapless participant. The film concludes with this depressing example of the misdirected anger manifesting itself as violence on the streets of America every day.

Suprisingly, mature for a first time filmmaker, Géla Babluani is certainly a director to keep an eye on. He picked up five festival awards for his efforts here, including one from Sundance and another from Venice (1). Sébastien was played perfectly by his brother George expressing his emotion with very little dialog. 13 TZAMETI will be available from Palm Pictures on February 13th, 2007.

1. This is according to the imdb.

How TEENAGE TRAMP changed my blog

The main function of this blog is to help me gain discipline. I needed an outlet, an excuse, to write more regularly and a blog seemed like a natural choice. I decided to randomly choose one film a week, good or bad, and create a post. That was the conceptual structure and all I needed now was the discipline to maintain that low standard. This seemed easy enough, that is, until I randomly selected the painfully dull TEENAGE TRAMP. The conventional wisdom among film critics (or maybe any critic) is: it’s easier to write negative criticism than positive. Exposing flaws is one of the fundamental tenants of criticism. So naturally, running down a film for its shortcomings makes for a simple task. Working up the motivation to write such a critique is another matter entirely.

I don’t mind writing about a poor film as long as it fails in an interesting manner. This is where TEENAGE TRAMP comes in. Exploitation films are a double edged sword. When done well there’s nothing better, but when done badly there’s nothing as vapid. TEENAGE TRAMP falls into the second camp. There were only two potential angles to explore, which I won’t describe here, you’ll just have to trust me that after closer examination neither of them had any legs. They were cute observations, nothing more. I was left with only the option of describing how bland and empty the film was, which doesn’t make for a very rewarding writing (or reading) experience. So I stalled, telling myself I should write, if for nothing else than to gain the discipline this blog was created to instill. But, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not about a film that offered so little, what would be the point? (Well discipline for one, shh …)

I spent over a month postponing the review feeling that if I moved onto another film I had somehow failed. It took me a month of procrastinating to realize the inanity of that notion. Now, in order to avoid this lapse in posts again, I’ve decided to only write about films I find interesting, good or bad. I will no longer pick an arbitrary movie from my week’s viewing, rather the best of the week or something I love from the past or even the occasional ire inspiring misstep – in short, something worth writing about. This will hopefully make for better and more frequent posts.

JACK IN THE CLOSET

My Theory

The long running “Jack in the Box” commercials featuring the now iconic Jack Box character have, intentionally or aleatoricly, invested the character with a latent homosexual subtext. I intend to support my theory by examining, in depth, three specific ads that display overt examples of said subtext and by gleaning, sometimes nuanced, examples from four other commercials. While examining each subsequent commercial I will sometimes refer back to the information gathered from the previous examinations in order to substantiate a behavioral consistency throughout the history of the character.

The following text will focus solely on the internal logic of the advertisements themselves, leaving the agendas of the writers and the Jack in the Box Corporation completely out of the equation. The theory is structured as such: I will first discuss an obvious rebuttal to the theory, then move onto three in depth reading of the commercials that contain the most compelling evidence, concluding with the consideration of minor evidence found in four other ads.

The most frequent rebuttal

Whenever I introduce my theory to someone new it’s generally met with a roll of the eyes and a knee jerk attempt to disprove it. It seems people don’t like to alter their previously conceived ideas on a topic, especially when it concerns something familiar. The most frequent rebuttal relates to Jack’s family life, which has been presented on many occasions. My detractors will proclaim, “Jack has a wife and a kid. He can’t be gay.” This line of logic is not only fundamentally untrue, but actually works to strengthen my theory. In modern American media the wealthy, Caucasian family man has become the defacto stereotype for the closeted homosexual. The dramatic weight of a family and social standing make for great narrative fodder. Ample examples can be found throughout pop culture. I can name a few off the top of my head: numerous accounts on the sketch comedy show “Kids in the Hall” along with their film BRAINCANDY, the Oscar winning AMERICAN BEAUTY, Todd Haynes’s FAR FROM HEAVEN, and most recently the critically acclaimed BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN. According to the culture he populates Jack is the perfect candidate for a conflicted homosexual.

Subconsciously admiring the male body

Do you recall a commercial that placed Jack in a public gym exercising? Hopefully you do, because I was unfortunately unable to track down a copy of this particular ad, forcing me to do my best from memory. Needless to say, you’ll have to grant me some latitude on this one. As I stated earlier, Jack was working out in a public gym. I believe he was jogging on a treadmill when he notices a man exercising next to him. Jack’s inner monologue praises the man’s physical attributes as he obsessively looks him over. Jack eventually catches himself subconsciously admiring the male body and quickly diverts his attention to a nearby woman. Guilty, Jack quickly began making comments about the woman in what we believe is still his inner monologue only to learn that his comments were actually said aloud. It is clear that Jack is instinctively attracted to men and uses a lesser interest in women to cover his hidden desires. This, of course, recalls the wife and kid that so many believe exclude Jack from harboring repressed homosexual desires.

This was the first eye brow raising incident. It struck me as strange, but ultimately I wrote it off as just a humorous commercial deriving its laughs from the social stigmas of a nontraditional sexual impulse. I really started to think something was up when I saw the ad that circulated sometime after this one.

“Enjoy your hole.”

At least two versions of this commercial exist, one far more suggestive than the other. Both versions are nearly identical differentiated only by which menu items they promote. In the less suggestive version Jack expounds on the attributes of his “Breakfast Jack” and “French Toast Sticks.” In the version I’m going to examine he promotes his “Breakfast Burrito.”

The ad opens with Jack standing in the center of a crowded elevator. The doors open and a young man in a tie carrying a box of donuts enters. He offers a donut to Jack. Jack becomes so visually and audibly upset by the offer that the other occupants recoil. Jack explains that the donut’s main offense is that in the center “where the donut fillet should be, you get a hole.” In Freud, and especially in his theory of the fetish, woman’s sexual difference is derived from an a priori assumption of her sameness to man: man has the phallus, woman is defined conversely as absence or lack (1). Jack’s complaint about the donut is a classic example of the Freudian “lack.” Jack then proceeds to slide his finger through the hole, a gesture undeniably sexual in nature therefore validating my Freudian reading. After expressing his disdain for the donut’s “hole” or lack, Jack describes the virtues of his new breakfast burrito. Jack praises the burrito (a phallic euphemism popularized in the ‘80s) as “meaty and filling” the opposite of a hole. Clearly stating his preference for the, in his eyes superior, phallic symbol. As the young man exits the elevator Jack angrily shouts, “enjoy your hole!” Obviously irritated by the good looking young man’s interest in the vaginal donut. At this moment, another young man in a tie enters the elevator and offers Jack a bagel. We assume his reaction will be much the same. The commercial concludes with a close-up of a “Jack in the Box” bag slamming into frame prominently sporting the words “NO HOLES.” (2)

Why would he shower with the players?

This is by far the most interesting ad. A news anchor informs us that Jack is the owner of “Pro Football’s newest team,” The Carnivores, before cutting to a satellite feed of Jack on the field. The first thing we notice is that The Carnivores team colors are purple and turquoise, the former (and more dominant of the two) synonymous with gay pride. I’m sure we all recall the purple Teletubbie scandal from years back. As Jack talks about his relationship with the players we cut to a quick clip of him aiding with practice followed immediately by a shot of Jack, wearing nothing but a towel being chased by two players (also wearing only towels) as they whip each other in the locker room. We then cut back to the live feed of Jack on the field. The background is now occupied by a group of male cheerleaders shaking pom-poms and some wearing party hats. When Jack is asked if he would like to make “any other changes,” he looks back at the male cheerleaders and smugly utters, “yeah.”

To properly examine and understand this particular spot we must extend its diegetic logic into the real world and ask questions based on this real world application. As owner of the team Jack would certainly have had prior knowledge that a group of men had been hired as cheerleaders. Not only would he have had this knowledge he would also have had final say on their hiring. So why does he approve the hiring only to slag them off when put on the spot during the interview? Is he merely posturing for the television viewing public? The only logical conclusion I could draw is that of latent homosexuality. He instinctively enjoyed the male cheerleaders which lead to their hire, only to regret it later upon realizing the public image the hire would project. This would fit perfectly within Jack’s character as seen in the public gym commercial discussed earlier. The only other possibility would be that Jack had no knowledge of their hiring which would be highly unlikely given the odd nature of an all male cheerleading squad and Jack’s history as a shrewd and informed business man. However this isn’t the most unusual aspect of the commercial. Let’s go back to the shot of the half naked Jack snapping towels with the two players in the locker room. On the surface it would appear that they’re just horsing around after a shower, but if Jack is indeed the owner of the team, which the commercial states he is, we must ask ourselves: Why would he shower with the players? (3)

“Our target is men.”

Given the context of the three ads discussed prior, a rereading of some incidents in earlier ads is in order. The entire campaign is ripe with sexual overtones, including a cross dressing squirrel in one incident, but I intend to focus only on the details that reflect the Jack character’s sexuality. These subtler clues were discovered in four separate commercials and admittedly only carry weight in retrospect.

While introducing a new sourdough product Jack flashes back to high school. He reminisces about Tammy Bailey, “the foxiest girl in school,” asking him to the prom. This scene threatens to weaken my theory until we discover that his true glee for landing the hot date isn’t derived from an attraction to Ms. Bailey rather in spiting his “arch rival, Brock Anderson.” Brock is the stereotypical good looking jock in a letter man’s jacket. Jack, portrayed as a dorky teenager, feels dating “the foxiest girl in school” is a victory over Brock. The commercial ends with the adult Jack looking directly into the camera and gloating “How you like me now, Brock?” Obviously still hung up on Brock, his passé praise for Tammy Bailey is rendered meaningless. We learn that Jack’s main concern was besting (read: impressing) Brock. I believe Jack’s lingering obsession with Brock, a high school athlete, manifested into a desire to own a Pro Football team. (4)

We now move forward to Jack’s hippy years. There were at least a couple commercials associating Jack with the counter culture, a movement notorious for its “sexual freedom” (read: experimentation) and inhibition. In one particularly lengthy ad Jack flips through the “Box Family Album” which not only contains a picture of Jack as a young hippy, but concludes with a nude photo of hippy Jack in the wilderness, his flesh obscured only by a guitar. Who took the photo and why he’s naked is never revealed. (5)

We move ahead again, to Jack’s adult life. Set in an empty office on a dark romantic night. Behind Venetian blinds (a sexually charged trope familiar to soft core and noir fans alike) Jack speaks with an attractive female colleague. He asks her, “Ellen, what do women really want?” Ellen responds tenderly, “Love, a shoulder to cry on, a soul mate.” Jack coldly breaks the mood, “I meant on our menu.” This little exchange illustrates Jack’s lack of interest in women as sexual beings. (6)

I’ll conclude with an ad that finds Jack fielding commercial ideas for the restaurant. We watch with Jack as a spoof boy-band, the “Meaty Cheesy Boys” (I’ll leave that one alone), dance while they sing about “juicy” burgers. We then cut to an advertising pitch man as he dances to the song and tells Jack, “Girls love this!” Annoyed, Jack replies “Our target is men.” A statement that compliments his earlier “NO HOLES” proclamation. Subconsciously, Jack knows exactly what he does and doesn’t want. (7)

Notes

1. This passage was culled from Linda Williams’s wonderful book “Hard Core.” 1989. University of California Press.

2. The “Breakfast Jack” and “French Toast Sticks” version of this commercial can be found on youtube.com
http://youtube.com/watch?v=xS2O_Dxkldw

3. A quicktime version of this commercial is available at commercialcloset.com Their interpretation differs from mine. It can now be found at youtube.com as well.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=NkMbxhTpHlE

4. Can be found at youtube.com
http://youtube.com/watch?v=xRdG0XWlavM

5. Can be found at youtube.com
http://youtube.com/watch?v=DLT37HJ1oHU

6. Can be found at youtube.com
http://youtube.com/watch?v=nlwWtOuK7_I

7. Can be found at youtube.com
http://youtube.com/watch?v=ifUJ5--4tjI

HALF NELSON (2006) dir. Ryan Fleck & Anna Boden

In the sport of wrestling a “half nelson” hold applies opposite force on the back of the head and front of the shoulder thereby rolling your opponent in the opposite direction. In the film HALF NELSON a drug addicted history teacher, Dan Dunne (Ryan Gosling), lectures his students defining history as the measure of change over time. He then goes on to describe change as two opposites pushing against each other eventually producing said change. In every capacity of their relationship whether it be teacher/student, dealer/junkie, coach/player, black/white, young/old, Mr. Dunne and his favorite student Drey (Shareeka Epps) are opposites, so in theory their relationship should manufacture a change.

The most readily apparent relationship shared by Dunne and Drey exists within the confines of teacher/student. That changes when Drey finds her hip, unconventional teacher huddled in a bathroom stall cradling a crack pipe altering the relationship and forcing Mr. Dunne to deal with Drey in a more direct manner. He quickly learns that she lives in a less than ideal situation (as do most of his students one would imagine) and he does some superficial favors (like driving her home) to keep her quiet about his addiction. During their extracurricular time together they have little chats and naturally bond eventually forms. At this point Dunne’s recreational drug use doesn’t affect his job, in fact he’s the most likable and composed junkie in the history of cinema. As the film meanders (for the first 50 minutes) in what is ostensibly the education genre, I grow bored awaiting the obvious. Despite the connotations of the laborious first two thirds, this isn't STAND AND DELIVER, BLACKBOARD JUNGLE, or even DANGEROUS MINDS, their relationship evolves into something far more personal, academic achievement never factors into the equation. Finally, Dunne loses control of his habit thereby straining his newly formed bond with Drey. It’s at this point that I realize that this isn’t a story about a teacher and a student, but rather of two friends in an unlikely situation riddled with restraints. Despite the social barriers they are friends desperately in need of the sobering affect they have on one another. The film ends, and this is its genius, with them coming to this realization. It doesn’t drag on to show us what happens later. Does Dunne clean up? We hope so, but we’re never quite sure.

Visually the film doesn’t offer much, featuring your typical shaky camera and jump cuts that seem to be a prerequisite for stories with an urban setting. The real prize lies in the story which sneaks up on you and packs more of a punch than you’d ever expect from the outset. The slower moments of the film are saved by the performances of our two leads. Ryan Gosling in particular has garnered ample praise for his role as the afflicted educator. While the accolades aren’t entirely unjust I can’t help but wonder how much of it stems from performance/charisma confusion. Charisma is an essential aspect of the role, but Gosling tends to make it the role leaving us with a relatively one dimensional performance. The true magic comes from Shareeka Epps as the jaded street-wise student. She manages to relay vast emotional information with a simple look, shift of the eyes, or smile. It’s her quest for virtue that gives the film its emotional depth. You should expect to see more from her in the future.

MUDHONEY (1965) dir. Russ Meyer

Released the same year as MOTOR PSYCHO and FASTER, PUSSYCAT! KILL! KILL!, during the era Meyer began veering away from nudie-cuties and by extension making better films (his monumental roughie LORNA came just one year earlier), MUDHONEY tells the story of a small town ripe with moral quandaries, all of which involve town drunk/instigator Sidney Bradshaw (Hal Hopper) who commits countless deplorable and selfish acts without a hint of remorse. Sidney married good girl Hannah Bradshaw simply to control her and inherit her family farm after her weak hearted father, Lute (Meyer regular Stuart Lancaster), croaks. When Calif (John Furlong), a drifter on his way to California (with a name like that where else), is hired as a farm hand by Lute and Hannah a romantic spark ignites. Sidney grows jealous as his wife falls for the gentle drifter and amps up his destructive behavior. Your standard volatile love triangle story, right? Well this is a Russ Meyer film, so why don’t we throw in a nearby farmhouse that doubles as brothel to amp up the sexual energy and a morally conflicted (or is he just corrupt) preacher to convolute the story. Okay, now we’re good to go.

While there are hints of Meyer’s, at the time burgeoning, trademark absurdist humor present, the “in-on-the-joke” laughs aren’t quite funny yet, missing more often than not. As a result the film comes across as a poor man’s Sirkian melodrama (WRITTEN ON THE WIND comes to mind). I say “poor man’s” because his cast doesn’t quite have the skill or consistency to pull off the over-the-top material. Meyer never did have the sensibilities to create a convincing drama (as was evident in his big budget flop THE SEVEN MINUTES). The biggest misstep occurs when he clumsily inserts his obligatory cameo into the film’s climax, undermining an otherwise violent and intense conclusion. In the end we’re left with a film that has no identity, just a mix of unrefined comedy and sophomoric drama.

Luckily the content remains sensational enough to avoid tedium. The antics at the brothel/farmhouse are fun, highlighted by Lorna Maitland (of Meyer’s LORNA) who plays one of the promiscuous sisters. Yummy. There are also some nice formal touches as is Meyer’s wont. He refrains from showing us any faces, focusing mainly on feet, until three minutes into the film when Sidney rapes his wife. Not sure of the significance, but it ingrained itself into my brain – maybe that’s its significance.

This minor, though presumably necessary, failure in the Meyer cannon is naturally best viewed within context and recommended to Meyer fanatics/completists only. The casual viewer would be better served by either of the other films he released that year.