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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: CAT SICK BLUES (2015)

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DIRECTED BY: Dave Jackson

FEATURING: Matthew C. Vaughan, Shian Denovan, Meg Spencer, Jeni Bezuidenhout

PLOT: A former Internet celebrity whose life revolved around her cat’s  viral video performances and a fellow with a fetish for defiling and murdering women while dressed as a cat meet at a pet-loss support group. This is not a love story.

Still from Cat Sick Blues (2015)

COMMENTS: Within the first five minutes, Cat Sick Blues had already checked all my boxes for my favorite kinda horror movie: sick, dark humor on the /Full Moon spectrum (check), faithful adherence to horror movie protocol that the first two characters we meet die in minutes (check), a punk rock/screamo soundtrack that evokes the nihilist spirit of the story about to unfold (check), smirky social satire (check), a roller-coaster pace where you can’t possibly predict the next swerve (check), and a camera shot (pictured) with a head on a table, perfect to add to your decapitation scrapbook alongside Frankenhooker (check-a-roonie). By the time the first victim’s head had bounced gaily down the stairs, the movie had already bounced purring into my lap. Cat Sick Blues takes turns affectionately nuzzling your face and playfully clawing you hard enough to draw blood. Just when you think you can let your guard down, it bites your hand again, lest you get too comfortable. Many will be turned off by it, but for the rest of us horror/sicko freaks, this is our cup of catnip tea.

Claire (Shian Denovan) is the owner of Imelda, a fluffy white cat whose videos have taken on a viral life of their own. Sadly, Imelda’s fandom is a little too fanatic, as one obsessed fan shows up at her door and bluffs his way inside, only to summarily murder her cat and rape her. Broken, Claire ends up at a support group for bereaved pet owners (if you liked Fight Club’s satire of support-group culture, here’s another dose of that). There, she meets Ted (Matthew C. Vaughan), a towering and imposing fellow who’s also shy and antisocial. Ted is going through some things, to put it mildly. He has sought a support group way too late in life, having already converted himself by night into a serial killer in a cat mask. He even enlists the help of a local leather-crafter to fashion a set of sharp-clawed gloves, and a monster-sized strap-on spiked dildo to complete the ensemble. In this costume, he dispatches victims and, more than once, has a very dramatic orgasm while doing so, spasming on the floor in his cat mask and floppy dildo. All of this turns out to have a second purpose for Ted: he is collecting the blood of victims in a bucket in anticipation of re-animating his own dead black cat, Patrick. (Note to A Bucket of Blood: this is what a whole bucket of blood looks like!)

Claire and Ted hook up, after Ted makes a whirlwind cleaning tour of his apartment to hide the serial killer paraphernalia and trophies. So the question becomes, will Claire figure out that she’s dating a killer before Ted fulfills his body count? What happens from here becomes less clear as the story proceeds, until act three, where the director decides to let the story-logic slide into territory, with dream sequences and hallucinations clouding the narrative enough that we can pick our own ending. The one thing that’s clear is that this movie will have no shortage of indelible images right up to the end credits, including some genuine gross-outs.

For a small budget picture, it’s a pleasure seeing such attention to detail. The chaos is sharply filmed, framed, and hemmed in by a tight production all around. The set is filled with familiar cat-themed gift shop kitsch like cat mugs, cat T-shirts, and cat bongs. One scene has Claire sorting through her mail; the pile of envelopes has some custom-printed mailers relevant to the plot, with text you’ll want to freeze-frame so its carefully spread satire may be read and appreciated in full. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it scene has Ted visiting a rave where teenagers in glowing jewelry wave their phones in the air and the DJ raises a squirt-gun to his lips. Most impressive of all, Cat Sick Blues was released in 2015, and yet has not aged a single day. We’re still a culture obsessed with Internet fame and cats, wallowing in bizarre fetishes and shallow morals. Claire’s fans, adoring the content yet lacking empathy for its creator, flock to ridicule her situation, or steal clicks by posting reaction videos to her plight.

It’s remarkable that this film isn’t better known (or at least didn’t cross our radar sooner), but we can chalk that up to an Australian production by a director who seems to live entirely at film festivals down under. Reading the IMDB reviews, I see commenters practically coughing up hairballs as they remark how upsetting, offensive, and disturbing this movie is. Let the poor little kittens lap their safe milk. For us fans of feral film, Cat Sick Blues is the kitty that roars like a lion.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…sometimes movies just leave you completely confused and unsure of what it is that you just watched. That basically sums up how I felt once I had finished watching the bizarre Australian horror film, Cat Sick Blues.”–Chris Coffel, Bloody Disgusting (DVD)

(This movie was nominated for review by Bradley, who called it “one odd movie.”. Suggest a weird movie or two of your own here.)

 

 

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List Candidates

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: INTERFACE (2021)

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DIRECTED BY:  Justin Tomchuk (AKA )

FEATURING: Voices of Justin Tomchuk, Libby Brien, Christa Elliot

PLOT: A lone man and a pink shape-shifting parasite wander and reminisce in the aftermath of the Philadelphia Experiment.

Still from Interface (2021)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Interface has a dreamy vibe from start to finish, uncanny and uneasy in the vein of ‘s works.

COMMENTS: Interface is not your typical, shallow Adult Swim-style surrealism, even if it may seem like it at first. A melancholy and sense of existential dread infuses every scene. Something uncanny lurks in the movie’s corners, and it isn’t just the monster accompanying our protagonist in his wanderings.

The setting is an alternate version of the aftermath of the Second World War, in which the Philadelphia Experiment had unforeseen consequences. (For those that do not know or remember, the Philadelphia Experiment is an urban legend about a hypothetical U.S. Navy teleportation experiment). Many sci-fi movies— especially B-movies—have been inspired by this story, most notably Stewart Raffill’s The Philadelphia Experiment from 1984.

Interface approaches this narrative more subtly than previous adaptations, recalling a dream and a work of pure surrealism. We follow, for the most part, two survivors of the Philadelphia Experiment, a lonely man unable to grow old and die and the shape-shifting monster that accompanies him everywhere. The lonely man wanders aimlessly, a soul trapped in limbo, while the accompanying parasite uses him as a host for its own survival.

There are clear symbolic undertones. The protagonist represents modern man, trapped in guilt and grief after catastrophic event (WWII). The parasite works as a personification of the negative emotions consuming him. A lyricism underlies the grotesque absurdity of the situation, highlighting the personal and collective trauma.

Memories of the past, as well as scientific attempts to restore that past, are interspersed throughout the movie. The focus, however, remains on our hero and his attempts to move on with his life (or his death). The uncanny, retro digital animation—recalling movies of the 80s and 90s—adds to the uneasiness of his situation. The melancholic soundtrack, composed by the director, does the same.

For the art lovers out there, there are a plethora of visual references to paintings, especially surrealist paintings, like Rene Magritte’ s “The Son of Man” or ‘s entire oeuvre. Even seemingly random abstract shapes in between scenes recall Kandinsky. These Easter eggs showcase Tomchuk’s wide range of influences and rich intellectual background.

“Interface” started as a web series, and it is still available on Youtube in its entirety for free; you can also rent or buy it on VOD for an ad-free experience that puts a little money in the filmmaker’s pocketbook (and even less in ours). Alternatively, you can purchase a Blu-ray or VHS version directly from the director for a more immersive retro experience.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…meditative, philosophical, atmospheric, surreal, imaginative, fantasy-sci-fi animation that brings to mind Mamoru Oshii at his most enigmatic and bizarre with a light sprinkling of Miyazaki.”–Zev Toledano, The Worldwide Celluloid Massacre

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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: HOPITAL BRUT (1999)

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DIRECTED BY: Le Dernier Cri (Pakito Bolino, Marc Druez, Christophe Istier)

FEATURING: None

PLOT: A revue showcasing the grotesque occupants of the world’s most inhospitable hospital.

Still from Hospital Brut (1999)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: Hopital Brut is an indefatigable assault on the senses, combining a deliberately crude and hyperactive visual style, a clamorous soundtrack that never softens or slows, and a giddy disregard for propriety. The curators aim to offend, and they never let up in their compulsion to shock.

COMMENTS: The digital hive mind at Google Translate interprets “hôpital brut” directly as “raw hospital.” However, “brut” alone lso translates as “gross,” and “Gross Hospital” is a far more appropriate and accurate title for these 45 minutes of cartoon cacophony assembled by the French collective Le Dernier Cri (translation: “The Latest”).

One of the things that makes animation anthologies like Spike and Mike’s Festival of Animation compelling is the broad range of styles and intentions sitting alongside each other. Hopital Brut is based on comic panels created by more than two dozen stars of the alt-comic scene, and their unique artistic approaches seem well-suited to the format, which promises something distinctly strange behind each door. However, the end product suffers from an interminable sameness, with one chaotic onslaught sliding into the next one. The techniques change somewhat, with stop-motion, paper cutouts, and even the occasional burst of sped-up live action footage spotlighted, but they all share a rapid pace, herky-jerky rhythm, and a love of the coarse. With so many sources of artistic inspiration at play here, and considering the assembled film’s intention to be a patchwork quilt of strangeness, maybe it’s not asking too much to expect a little variety. Instead, the same ideas keep popping up to the tune of the relentless hammering of an industrial soundtrack.

Despite its repetitiveness, a few segments have enough novelty to stand out, such as the tale of the lonely artist who turns to a lord of the underworld in order to get girls, but discovers that the over-endowed demon has more to offer. Another patient freaks out when he sees himself drowning in his soup. A set of genitals features anthropomorphized testicles that look like busts of German composers. A giant praying mantis shows up for a quick orgy of rape and evisceration, which makes for a change of pace from all the poking, prodding, and maiming that the doctors usually employ. But even these moments are only marginally more impactful than their brethren, as the same notions are served over and over again. The chef may change, but the dish remains the same.

There’s little doubt that Hopital Brut is weird. It wears its irreverence and its iconoclasm on its sleeve. But after that, there’s very little to recommend it. The film is a Venn diagram where the categories of “weirdness” and “watchability” are moving steadily apart until they are completely separate circles. It ends as it began, no less defiant and no more engaging than it was from the outset. Still, the collective seems to have landed squarely in the center of its intended target, and there’s an amusing piece of evidence to back that up. If you visit the film’s page at MUBI, you’ll be greeted with a piece of text which is both absurdly tangential and highly apropos: “Hopital Brut is not available to watch. Instead, check out Lars von Trier’s Antichrist.” An even trade? It’s probably a perfect double feature, an algorithmic pairing that would make Le Dernier Cri’s collective hearts flutter.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Don’t want to fry on acid? Afraid your gonna do a Diane Linklater dive off a skyscraper thinking that you can fly and the only “scraper” you’ll get is when they peel you off the pavement?! Look no further than the semi short ‘Hopital Brut’!!!… keep kids far away from this, unless you want your kids traumatized for their rest of their short, miserable lives.” —noisepuncher_caiaav, Noisepuncher

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

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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: OM DAR-B-DAR (1988)

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DIRECTED BY: Kamal Swaroop

FEATURING: Anita Kanwar, Gopi Desai, Lalit Tiwari

PLOT: A young boy named Om comes of age amidst diamond breeding frogs, melodramatic love affairs, and other absurdities.

Still from Om Dar-B-Dar (1988)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Almost completely incomprehensible at first, like a Hindi “Finnegan’s Wake,” Om Dar-B-Dar requires at least a second viewing to fully appreciate its eccentricities and chaotic nature.

COMMENTS:  At first, the narrative seems straightforward, but don’t be fooled, this is as surreal as a movie can get. We follow a family, father Babuji and his two children, a thirty-year-old woman named Gayatri and a young boy with the unique name Om. After a short voiceover introduction giving us a bit of a socio-political background, Om seems to emerge as the tale’s main character. However, something is off.

Dialogues between Om and his family start casually but stray immediately into the absurd. A love affair begins between his sister and a young man, full of extravagant musical numbers in the familiar Bollywood style, albeit with nonsensical lyrics. Early on, the movie shows a willingness to break with stylistic conventions and to parody and deconstruct long-established genres through absurdism. Gayatri’s love affair subverts the language of erotic melodramas, for instance, while the main narrative of Om’s life plays like an epic saga on steroids.

And then it really gets weird! Characters rant about space travels or express a longing for female emancipation, while embarking on a variety of bizarre schemes involving diamond breeding frogs, or imitating God for profit. Humorous sketches pseudo-poetic and pseudo-philosophical ramblings abound, all while delivering caustic commentaries on the commercialization of spirituality.

Om’s life flash-forwards before our eyes through rapid editing full of jump cuts. Occasional gaps in time or space create a sense of disorientation and the fragmented narrative contributes a dreamy quality. Hypnotic sound effects like voice echoes, or psychedelic futuristic tunes, are applied. There’s even a complete, albeit momentary, disruption of the audio at one point.

Om Dar- B -Dar is an enigmatic puzzle thanks to the unconventional way it combines the everyday with surrealism. It will appeal mostly to those that have some familiarity with Hindu tradition and history, though, as many mythological and cultural references can be found among the absurdity. The rest of us will scratch our heads and open an online encyclopedia.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a hodge-podge of non-sequitur dialog and scenes, trippy montages, political symbolism, genre-splicing, nonlinear storytelling, magical realism, social satire, society seen through pop-commercialism, art-house mysticism, and general confusion.”–Zev Toledano, Worlwide Celluloid Massacre

(This movie was nominated for review by debasish dey, who suggested it with the following background: “…a 1988 Indian Postmodernist film directed by Kamal Swaroop. The film, about the adventures of a school boy named Om along with his family, employs nonlinear narrative and an absurdist storyline to satir[ize] mythology, arts, politics and even philosophy. The movie was described by its director as a story of Lord Brahma, and it sprouted from the idea that in Hinduism, although Lord Brahma was considered the father of the entire universe, strangely no one ever worshiped him. The director also said that the film’s script was written based solely on dreams and images that he had and claimed he ‘cannot think in words.’ ” Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)

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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: UNITED TRASH (1996)

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aka The Slit

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DIRECTED BY: Christoph Schlingensief

FEATURING: Udo Kier, Kitten Natividad, Joachim Tomaschewsky, Johnny Pfeifer, Jones Muguse, Thomas Chibwe

PLOT: The wife of a gay German UN commander stationed in Africa gives birth to a child who is declared the new messiah; when an accident causes the boy to be horribly injured and endangers the UN mission, an escalating battle for power arises between the power-hungry commander, a religious leader who has declared war on the Vatican, and a chieftain who is attempting to actualize his dream to ride a ramshackle rocket into the White House to kill the American president.

Still from United Trash [AKA The Slit] (1996)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: Movies can be weird, they can be strange, they can be bizarre, but it’s rare to come across a movie that is actually insane. Under the trappings of satire on a global scale, United Trash offers a critique of international affairs forged in the crucible of late 20th century daytime talk shows. There is not a single character in the film who isn’t as awful as they can be, nor a situation that is not plussed to become the most grotesque version of itself. So many fluids are spattered across the screen, everyone is subject to abject humiliation, and not a single institution fails to be undermined. Rarely has a film’s contempt for its subjects been so blatant and so complete, nor has a commitment to the most base appeals for a laugh been pursued so vigorously.

COMMENTS: In a career cut appallingly short by cancer, Christoph Schlingensief racked up a remarkable number of achievements, including staging a Wagner opera at the Bayreuth Festival, making plans to build a performing arts center in Burkina Faso, and curating a retrospective of his art that was staged posthumously at the Vienna Biennale. In cinema, he created a trilogy of films exploring the trauma caused by both the rise of Hitler and the process of German reunification. (The last of those, Terror 2000, also sits in our Reader Queue.) And in the middle of all this, he directed a film in which Udo Kier paints himself in blackface, dons a skirt made of bananas, and dances like a monkey in front of an audience of Africans while stroking the center banana aggressively. It’s an extraordinary career.

United Trash features one of the most game casts I have ever seen. There’s not an ounce of shame among the lot of them. They got the note that subtlety would be punishable by death, and they responded by going furiously over the top. Keir leads the way with his relentless prissiness, matched by a frequently naked Natividad raving maniacally about her lack of sexual satisfaction. They are surrounded by actors working just as hard to win the title of Least Restrained Performance, including a Hitler-mustachioed doctor/rocket scientist, an amoral, sexually ravenous, Vatican-hating priest, and Keir’s absurdly bewigged, unexpectedly jacked, child-molesting Continue reading APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: UNITED TRASH (1996) →