Category Archives: List Candidates

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: KRAKATIT (1948)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Karel Höger, Florence Marly, Florence Marly, Eduard Linkers, František Smolík, Jiří Plachý

PLOT: Prokop, a chemistry genius, invents a deadly compound which attracts the attention of shady consortiums hell-bent on world domination.

Still from Krakatit (1948)

COMMENTS: Science aids life. We learn this at the start, as a doctor and his able nurse spare an unidentified man from a febrile, clenching death. This man, however, is a different kind of scientist than his saviors. He is Prokop, a genius in the field “destructive chemistry,” and tucked away in his burning mind is the secret to Krakatit, a deadly compound capable of ending the lives of millions. His fate is not only in the hands of the healers, but his own: as he writhes and dreams on the clinic cot, his life story and personal character are scorched in a crucible, tested by demons both psychological and supernatural.

Krakatit slots itself into an ill-defined position in a number of ways. Heavily influenced by German Expressionism, it was made on the heels of two nuclear explosions. It concerns the lives of calculating scientists and (differently) calculating politicos, but it also has romance, both simple and complicated. Krakatit is a deadly serious meditation on man’s capacity for annihilation of self and others—and yet it has one of the best wisecracking cads in the history of the silver screen. (Eduard Linkers’ Carson is cut from the same shady cloth as Claude Rains’ Renault.) The chemistry is ubiquitous; but upon the introduction of a minor character and then a major one, so too becomes religion—old and new. Keep an eye out for a carriage-driver and a suspiciously named aristocrat.

Director Otakar Vávra, along with the stellar performances and glorious noir-dream cinematography by Václav Hanuš, ably walks the many tightropes laid down in Karel Capek’s source novel. Krakatit maintains its moments of ambiguity long enough to pique the curiosity, but never teases the viewer with outright incomprehensibility. It is mostly a dream, but liberally interspersed with stretches of dreamier dreaming. I am reminded here of several odd elements that only make sense later: student Prokop in an infinite amphitheater amongst innumerable photorealistic cut-outs of his classmates, the looming mystery of the Krakatit canister—why doesn’t that explode? And just how did all these Wehrmacht hold-overs end up in post-war Czechoslavokia?

The films lands on an ill-defined plane, too. Vávra opts for a nebulous non-ending which still leaves the viewer optimistic that science must—nay, shall—be harnessed to aid all mankind to live better lives. Despite the the ever-looming dangers of annihilation.

Gregory J. Smalley adds:

I have no issues with Giles’ appraisal, other than his omission of the following section:

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: The muddled memories of a guilt-ridden “destructive chemist” provide the perfect substrate for exploring nascent anxieties about the apocalyptic potential of 20th century weaponry, told through a dreamy mix of Expressionism, film noir, and hallucinatory interludes out of the surrealist playbook.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“… builds tension and envelops its audience in an enigmatic shroud of mystery through the wonderfully bizarre and clever ways it perpetually disrupts the reality within the film… [this] deeply strange and unsettling sci-fi mystery about a world hellbent on self-destruction rings as true today as it surely did in the wake of World War II.”–Derek Smith, Slant [Blu-ray]

Krakatit [4k UHD + Blu-ray]

  • Czech director Otakar Vávra’s astonishing mix of Film Noir, Thriller and Atomic Bomb Sci-Fi

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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: TASHER DESH (2013)

AKA The Land of Cards

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DIRECTED BY: Quashiq “Q” Mukherjee

FEATURING:, , Soumyak Kante De Biswas, , Tinu Verghese

PLOT: An exiled prince escapes from confinement, only to arrive in a strange land where all the residents dress as military regiments of playing cards; meanwhile, a writer struggles to imagine an screen adaptation of this story.

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: Tasher Desh is a fascinating example of a weird movie that manages to get weirder entirely through attitude. The land of the playing-card people and their lockstep behavior is plenty strange, but the movie treats their situation with a baroque intensity, a gravity that overwhelms everything that has preceded it. One kind of strange is replaced with another, and an emotional ache that completely changes the viewing experience.

Still from Tasher Desh (2013)

COMMENTS: When last we met up with Q, he was sharing the adventures of a Kolkata street rat turned hardcore rapper. His adventurous tale carved out a niche distinct from his colleagues in the Indian film industry, eschewing colorful dances and crowd-pleasing romance in favor of drugs, hardcore sex, and verses spat out with boundless anger. So when we begin Tasher Desh by meeting a screenwriter who has been tasked with adapting Rabindrath Tagore’s 80-year-old play about a fantastical land where the population paints their faces white and assumes the roles of a platoon of playing cards, the writer’s confusion would seem to be a conduit for that of Q himself. Is this really his kind of film? Can he make the pivot from raw vérité to classic adaptation? The answer is, of course. The man’s a professional. But rest assured, it will not look anything like you’d suspect. Q is gonna Q. 

Tasher Desh spends its first hour establishing a mood of expectation. We hang out with the Prince and his retinue in their large but sparse prison, a cage that would be gilded if it were not made of rock and decorated with only the barest of furnishings, for a remarkably long time. The Prince chats with his mother, ignores his bevy of female attendants, sits around with his aide-de-camp, and plays marathon games of table tennis. Whatever he has done to merit this punishment (and the film is wisely silent on the subject), it’s a dreary fate. That he will want to escape seems a foregone conclusion.

Juxtaposed with the Prince’s misery is that of the screenwriter, who seems to learn the story and script the film in real time. Both men search for something to make sense of everything: for the Prince, an encounter with an exotic fortune teller seals the deal, while the screenwriter similarly meets a mysterious woman who shows him the way.

Here, halfway through the film, it’s fair to wonder who is the dog and who is the tail. The Prince and his pal wash up on an unfamiliar shore, and we immediately encounter the squadron of card people, a live-action version of the Red Queen’s brigade. They are stripped of all identity: hair hidden under a cap, clad in red and black uniforms, eyes concealed behind thick goggles, with their faces painted white and suits painted upon their lips. Only the numbers on their epaulets distinguish them. Their speech is captioned onscreen in bold all-caps blocks that threaten to fill half the screen. They are strange, single-minded, and fiercely xenophobic as they prepare to execute the newly arrived Prince. It’ll take some fancy speechifying to get out of this mess. Luckily for the Prince, he’s got that arrow in his quiver. 

There’s something delightfully demented about the seriousness with which Q treats this absurd premise. It’s not clear why the Prince’s words are so motivating, but maybe he’s the first voice of opposition the card people have ever encountered. Regardless, the speech ushers in an awakening that shatters the worldview of everyone on the island. The Prince and his story are essentially done with at this point, and we’re left with the cards—especially the female cards—and the existential earthquake they face. For some, it is a sexual awakening, for others, a crisis of identity. It’s a huge pivot, and Q treats this shift with the solemnity and intensity that follows a long-drawn out war. 

With multiple inspirations from literature, stage, and screen, Tasher Desh could be called derivative. Yet the sources are so many and so disparate that trying to tease them out ends up feeling foolish. The Tempest meets Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland meets Adaptation meets Lysistrata meets Pleasantville… trying to find a true antecedent is absurd. You’re better off with a different analogue altogether: it’s a Cobb salad, a track off Paul’s Boutique, a Rauschenberg montage. It synthesizes a diverse array of elements into something barely resembling its source material, something wholly new and strange. 

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…not just a movie, but a surreal fever dream that completely rewired my brain…  while it might look like a straightforward ‘weird’ movie, ‘The Land of Cards’ is smarter than that. It’s a full-blown political allegory that isn’t afraid to question conformity, social structures, and the power of art.” – Brittany Vincent, Tom’s Guide

(This movie was nominated for review by debasish dey. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: HAIR HIGH (2004)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Voices of Eric Gilliland, Sarah Silverman,

PLOT: A middle-aged bartender recounts a tragic tale of doomed love to a young couple.

Still from "Hair High" (2004)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Plympton’s trademark animation style, verging on surrealism, meets a personal take on familiar rom-com and high school drama tropes.

COMMENTS: Bill Plympton is a major name in American adult animation today, especially for those preferring the offbeat and the bizarre. His raw and expressive style, full of crude jokes and grotesque yet hilarious visual gags, balances gross-out humor with a lighthearted and wholesome tone. Nowhere is that blend more apparent than in High Hair, a unique take on high school rom-coms with a esque twist.

A barman recounts the tale of Cherry and Stud and their unexpected, passionate love affair to two young students. We trace the teen drama tropes from the beginning: Cherry is the popular girl, and Stud is a nerdy, friendless loser. Cherry already has a boyfriend, the muscular Rod, another reason Stud shouldn’t have a chance with her in real life. However, when Rod “punishes” Stud by forcing him to become Cherry’s slave, something sweet and slightly kinky blossoms between them.

A love affair starting as a power game or a conflict is another well-worn trope of romantic comedies. But Plympton’s approach offers something different than what you’d might expect. The first half of the movie is full of crude, if admittedly inventive, jokes. Disturbing imagery is played for laughs, with even a hint of animated body horror. Gradually, a sweet love affair blooms, one that, surprisingly, doesn’t feel uneven or forced at all. The second half of the film follows Cherry and Stud falling in love, until a final twist combines the dark and macabre with an unexpected, yet not unwelcome, dose of tenderness.

Among the visual gags of special note—and there are many—are jokes about the characters’ hairstyles.  As the title hints, hair is a rich symbol in this movie. Follicles can express femininity or masculinity, and even take the form of a phallic symbol. Here, hair indicates hierarchy and social status.

All in all, this is a whimsical film, a perfect date movie for weirdos. Those who aren’t turned off by some bad-taste humor will be rewarded with a touching narrative. Behind the weirdness and grotesquerie beats a heart.

Hair High [Blu-ray]

  • Acclaimed animator Bill Plympton’s (THE TUNE, MUTANT ALIENS) cheerfully unhinged tribute to 1950s teen romance and musicals like GREASE and HAIRSPRAY

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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: THE LAUGHING WOMAN (1969)

Femina ridens, AKA The Frightened Woman

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This is the first in a limited series by Pete Trbovich entitled “Pete’s Perverted Pix,” examining the kinkier side of cinema.

DIRECTED BY: Piero Schivazappa

FEATURING: Philippe Leroy, Dagmar Lassander

PLOT: A wealthy aristocrat (and psychopathic sadist) kidnaps a woman and keeps her as his personal torture toy, until she turns the tables on him.

Still from The Laughing Woman (1969)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: Even though the story is almost elementary, and 90% of the time it involves just two characters, you can’t take your eyes off the screen thanks to the psychedelic sets, ridiculous dialogue, and all-in committed performance from two very watchable actors. Far from typical Eurosleeze fare, by the end you know that The Laughing Woman has something to say, even if that message is just a harsh judgment on male-female politics dressed up in clown makeup.

COMMENTS: Every now and then, a movie throws you on first watch. The first time I saw The Laughing Woman, I dismissed it as exploitative Eurotrash aspiring to, but just missing out on, artistic redemption.  Act 1 left a sour taste in my mouth, which acts 2 and 3 tried, but failed, to wash away. Then I looked up what others thought, and to my surprise, I could hardly find one bad word that anyone has to say about this movie. But I did find reviews which breathlessly called it every kind of weird and a masterpiece. Some even drew comparisons to Death Laid an Egg.

So after a while, I gave it another try. Now that I knew where the film was ultimately going, I could appreciate little jokes I didn’t catch the first time, the mondo set pieces reminiscent of the village from TV’s “The Prisoner,” the deliberately turgid dialogue, and the sweet soundtrack tying it all together. While I still say this is a film with a nasty central idea, I have to admit that it is artistically framed and slyly dishes out a satire of sexual relations as it pulls the rug on the viewer. Perhaps the weirdest thing about this movie is how it forces you to admire it even while almost daring you to hate it.

Described variously as either an erotic thriller or a very dark comedy, the movies’ two titles (is the woman laughing, or frightened?) give you a hint that we’re in for an ambiguous time. Except for the bookending opening and closing scenes, the whole movie is focused solely on our lead characters. Dr. Sayer (Philippe Leroy) is a big shot rich guy with a powerful position in some organization, and Maria (Dagmar Lassander) is a reporter who needs to get in touch with him to research a story. They meet and immediately have an argument about the story she’s writing, but Sayer directs Maria to stop by his home anyway to pick up her research files. No sooner is she lured into his parlor to admire his art collection than the doctor drugs her drink. A Cosby-on-the-rocks knocks her out, and Maria awakes in Continue reading APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: THE LAUGHING WOMAN (1969)

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: UP THE CATALOGUE (2024)

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DIRECTED BY: Alastair Siddons

FEATURING: Lyndsey Marshal, John Macmillan, Morgana Robinson, Anastasia Hille

PLOT: Hailey, the lead presenter for a shopping network, is forbidden from suspending her performance on a set where it’s always still morning.

Still from "Up the Catalogue" (2004)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Hailey’s journey to the end of the film is by turns comical, confusing, and surreal, culminating in a quick-but-profound moment of “hmm.”

COMMENTS: Judging from the dreams I suffered after watching this, I’ll advertise that angle first. An eager makeup artist preps protagonist Hailey for broadcast, interrupted by odd exchanges with an unseen Dave who runs hot and cold: snippy one moment, flattering in the next. “Forever Bread,” the invention of a gruff fellow in military-style fatigues, is among the never-fully-explained items for sale on 4QTV (quality, quantity, quintity, and never any Q’s), and we learn of Hailey’s aversion to bread mold and of her son, whose name she can’t quite remember. Derek—a regular caller, it seems telephones and goes on to confess his fear of dying (not unreasonably for a nonagenarian). Quick break, and on to the next item.

Alastair Siddons skewers one of television’s more ridiculous and unsettling genres, home shopping programs, through a ridiculous and unsettling little film. Up the Catalogue never goes anywhere; first Hailey’s is unable to leave the production set, then the building, and the finale is an extended pursuit down a repeated cycle of stairwell. Her boss, Dave, is the hellish counterpart of a Chris Morris TV producer, dangling the promise of implied freedom in front of Hailey only if she agrees to the terms of the rent-to-marry companion owl, Maureen, who used to be the network’s star hamster.

Up the Catalogue left me with a feeling of “Whelp, that just happened”, followed thereafter by a none-too-restful bit of sleep. The film cruises along the comedy-cringe line in true British fashion, adding a hearty dose of cramped infinity-space as the story unfolds within an endless backstage labyrinth. By the end, I wanted out as much as Hailey did, and I was relieved that my visit to this world wrapped up in only a little over an hour. That said, I strangely enjoyed the distressing journey—a sentiment which leaves me as confused as the climax did.

Rolling again in Five-Four-Q-Two-Action!

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

Up the Catalogue is unquestionably weird, offbeat and surreal right out of the gate. There’s a palpable awkwardness and Alastair Siddons builds a great atmosphere of intrigue.” — Rebecca Cherry, Film Carnage (contemporaneous)

Up the Catalogue [DVD]

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