Things That Make You Say, WTF?: The Best of the Weird, Part I (Movies)
by Tony Fonseca
05/16/2005
Actually, to be more accurate, first your reaction may be WTF? But this would be quickly followed by WBF, as in "That was weird. But fantastic." Not sure what I mean? Think Kid A and Amnesiac. Think American Gothic (the TV series) and Nip Tuck. Think almost any movie by the Coen Brothers and anything at all by David Lynch. Think Missy Elliott.
True story: I found myself in the local video store recently, having made a trip there expressedly to find a good horror flick, some thing I, regrettably, hadn't done in some time. I cellied my partner in horror crime to ask which she preferred, a weird little Indie slasher flick named May, which came with the tag line, "be careful or she'll steal your heart," the star-empowered Secret Window, which had our favorite actor, Johnny Depp, and the movie that was all the buzz, Saw. Without hesitation she chose the weird movie. Not only did I end up watching it, but I really liked it, and chose to give it a positive review in this issue of Necropsy.
True story: I called up my glitter goth friend, an ex unlicensed embalmer and future funeral services director. She is a quirky student at the university where I work, one who often comes into our library to look for books on Alistair Crowley, magic, and spells. I told her that we had a new book that she would really enjoy called The Way the Family Got Away. When she asked why I thought she would like this novel, all I could think of is "it's weird."
Those of us who consider ourselves a bit outside of the mainstream, especially those who also would list themselves as fans of horror, often identify with movies and books that are themselves quirky, grotesque, unpredictable, eccentric, or to put it another way, outside of the mainstream. Yes, we all hate to admit it, but even horror has it formulae, and most successful authors in the genre find that they have to follow this prescription carefully, lest their careers suffer a premature demise. When an author or director breaks these rules, that in itself is worthy of notice. When he or she does so and creates something that is of the highest quality, and not just a work that screams "this is an experimental piece," that is something worthy of high praise. The subtext of the two stories which I just shared with those of you who are weird enough to still be reading this is that I weirdness in and of itself is not admirable. Something must be good at being weird.
Realizing this, I got the idea of doing something we don't normally do at Necropsy. I decided that maybe we should try something a little different, and publish a biblio/filmography. In other words, I started thinking: wouldn't it be neat (yes I still say "neat") if I were to write about the best of the weird, in essence, a list of the five best weird books and movies I have ever had the pleasure of reading or viewing? I ran the idea by the Miss June, this site's managing editor, and although it was a bit weird (at least based on the rules we have set for ourselves), she bought it without hesitation. So, without further prologue, here are my top five movies (watch for the next issue when I list the best of the weird in books):
FILM:
May (2002)
I figured I may as well start here, as this was the study about weirdness that actually inspired the creation of this list. Lucky McKee's only movie to date is a darkly comic study in self-ostracization. Here we have a main character who is the misfit's misfit, May Canady (played marvelously by Angela Bettis). Friendless almost since birth, this twenty-something seamstress by night and vet's assistant by day doesn't even blink when asked if a dog's leg can be sewn back on after an accident. She matter of factly states, "I can sew it back on." Marketed as a slasher film, this is in reality a character study, following an eccentric but fairly likeable loner into her descent into madness, much like the more heralded One Hour Photo (Mark Romanek, 2002). But where One Hour Photo is artistic and cinematically intelligent, May is raw and all heart. The production values aren't all that great, and some camera shots, especially those of the "slasher" scenes have the ultra-realistic, almost amateurish feel of those in I Spit on Your Grave (Meir Zarchi, 1978). However, you will easily forgive these because the movie is unique and so true to its vision, Pieces (Juan Piquer Simon, 1982) with a heart if you will. When May finally loses it and starts harvesting body parts to "make a new friend," it's not really horrifying or comic. It's sad. Tragic. Her final action is consistent with the director's vision (no pun intended) throughout, and harkens back to the opening scene. Neat.
One Hour Photo (2002)
How about a slasher film with no body count whatsoever? That is what director Mark Romanek came up with in this Robin Williams vehicle, where Williams actually gets to show some acting talent. While most movies about stalkers who eventually trap their victims in a hotel room (after sex, of course) while wielding a butcher knife contain a lot of bloodshed, screaming, and shrieking violin music, this one just lets our crazed maniac do a slow burn. And better yet, it tells the story from his point of view, so we are left with few options but to actually feel sorry for, and even like the guy. The reason this one makes my list is the art direction and editing cuts. I can think of no other movie (perhaps Hitchcock's The Birds, 1963) that uses silence to achiever such atmosphere. Romanek also is attuned to something any of us who have ever held jobs in department stores or large grocery chains have all realized: those humming fluorescent lights are just damned eerie. Those of you who liked May will also find the same kind of sympathetic view of loneliness here.
Freaks (1932)
What can anyone say about this movie to do it justice? When Tod Browning decided to use actually circus freaks for his main characters in 1932, I am not sure that even he knew that he was going to create a one-of-a-kind cult classic, perhaps the only movie of which one can safely say, "this will never be remade." The story, for those of you that have never seen this masterpiece: the movie begins after all the action has taken place, with a carnival barker selling a sideshow freak called the Feathered Hen. Her story is the grotesque tale that makes up the bulk of the film. She used to be Cleopatra, a trapeze artist. A midget named Hans is head over heels in love with her, despite the impossibility of their love (especially since he is engaged to a fellow midget). Lo and behold, Cleopatra starts to express interest in Hans, but we find out it is only so that she can plan his murder and inherit a small fortune he has saved. Along with the carnival's strong man, she plots to poison Hans and make it look like he died of an illness. Ultimately her plan is unveiled, and the eeriest chase scene this side of the Samara crawling out of the TV scene of The Ring (Gore Verbinski, 2002) ensues. We never see how Cleopatra is mutilated and made into a fellow freak, but we don't need to. The most enduring quality of this movie is that Browning, who was a circus freak himself (he was what was once termed a geek, and his big trick was being buried alive for three days), shoots the movie from the point of view of the "freaks," making the audience identify with a group of people that are normally vilified, especially in the 1930s.
Spider Baby (1968)
George Romero wasn't the only amateur college filmmaker who used college friends and a handful of professional actors to create a memorable horror flick in 1968. Jack Hill came up with this strange story about a family that possesses a degenerative mental disorder. In short, with each passing generation, the children become more and more insane as they grow older, eventually becoming bestial, like the hidden relatives Lon Chaney, Jr. keeps in the basement. Chaney plays Bruno, the family chauffeur and caretaker (now that the father has died), a devoted individual who promised he would let no harm come to the children. Unfortunately, the kids (all in their twenties, but all mentally pre-pubescent children) have become more problematic, especially Spider Baby, the youngest of the females, who likes to play spider, trap unsuspecting visitors (like delivery men), and "sting" them repeatedly with kitchen knives. The movie begins with the visit of relatives, who are interested in two things: getting their hands on the property and placing the children in institutions. Mix three insane adults, one of whom is a murderer, a basement full of mutated humans, a couple of greedy villains, and Bruno, who is trying so hard to not let anything go wrong, and you have the makings for an explosive ending. Is this a tragedy? A comedy? A parody? It's really difficult to say. It is a little of each, and is perhaps the best camp horror film ever.
The Wicker Man (1973)
Although many argue that this Robin Hardy adaptation of an Anthony Schaffer play is not horror in the strictest sense, I disagree. One identifiable type of horror is what has been called Small Town Horror, and the basic plot line is this: someone from the "big city" travels to a small town or outlying community and discovers a secret evil which the entire town knows of and sometimes even participates in. Of course, the visitor is often being set up for a fall, as in many a 1970s flick. In this case, the city folk is Lieutenant Howie, a police officer from the British mainland who is sent to a small Scottish island village to investigate the disappearance of a young girl. Once he gets there, he finds the locals still practice pagan fertility rituals, which offends his Protestant sensibilities, and that they are not that willing to help him find one of their own who has disappeared. Ultimately, Howie finds out that he is being set up by the locals, who are getting ready to make a human sacrifice because they have had years of poor harvests. The movie ends a little differently than the play and novelization, but stays true to the tragic ending envisioned by Schaffer. This movie works because Edward Woodward and Christopher Lee make it work; the strength of their personalities comes across in their confrontation scenes. Only an actor of Woodward's quality could pull off the final human sacrifice scene, which you have to see. It's one of the high marks in horror cinema.
Honorable Mentions:
Frailty (Bill Paxton, 2001)
Seldom does a one-man project horror film get made by a big time actor, so this is a rarity. The father of two boys hears the voice of God, and it tells him to kill people who are really demons in disguise. Of course, like any good dad, he teaches the boys the family trade.
The Machinist (Brad Anderson, 2004)
Next to Johnny Depp, no actor goes through physical transformations more than Christian Bale. Here, he lost some seventy pounds to play a shop machinist who is seeing people who don't exist. Echoes of Hitchcock abound here, in one of the best edited films I have ever seen. You might get a sense of what is going on, but you will not see the ending coming.
The Cell (Tarsem Singh, 2000)
This is probably the most artistic horror film ever made. The visuals are breathless in the dream sequences, and the images in Carl Stargher's demented mind are truly disturbing. The horse scene just by itself will blow you away. I still feel twinges of pain when I remember the dream torture sequence.
Carnival of Souls (Herk Harvey, 1962)
This is the original "dead person who doesn't know he's dead" movie, but that isn't what makes it fascinating. The actors in this film are some of the most grotesquely gothic looking people you will never want to run across in person. It's just one of those movies where you have to shake your head and wonder what's going on about every ten minutes or so, but it holds together well, and it works.