Category Archives: Capsules

Capsules

CAPSULE: MONDO CANDIDO (1975)

Leave a comment

366 Weird Movies may earn commissions from purchases made through product links.

AKA The World Is a Wonderful Show; White World

Recommended

DIRECTED BY: ,

FEATURING: Christopher Brown, Michele Miller,

PLOT: Candide, thrown out of the idealized bubble he grew up in, and has to come to terms with the hardships of real life.

Still from Mondo Candido (1975)

COMMENTS: Jacopetti and Prosperi are mostly known inventing the “mondo” film (Mondo Cane, Africa Addio), a genre of exploitative shockumentaries produced in large quantities in the late 60s and early 70s. Despite its name, Mondo Candido is not a mondo film. While retaining elements of social critique from their previous works, this purely narrative literary adaptation was a change in style for this duo of directors (and also their final collaboration).

Above all else, Mondo Candido is slightly campy, slightly grotesque fiction, loosely based on Voltaire’s emblematic novel “Candide.” Voltaire, an Enlightenment intellectual, was a skeptic, and “Candide” heavily parodied the ideas of German philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz , especially his belief that we live “in the best of all possible worlds”. Voltaire’s humor is deconstructive, dark, and full of cynicism, and translates well to the cinematic environment of the crazy, revolutionary 70s.

The plot revolves around our young hero Candide: noble, chivalrous, pure of heart. Candide grows up in a privileged environment, inside a castle, educated by philosopher Pangloss, a caricature of Leibniz who advocates the position that our world is as ideal as it can be. However, as an adult Candide falls in love with Cunégonde, the baron’s daughter, enraging her father who deems him unworthy and throws him out. And so, his misadventures begin.

The world proves itself to be an earthly hell, and his journey takes the form of a esque odyssey. Jacopetti and Preosperi create an atmosphere of extravagant dreaminess, suggested by a playful, anachronistic, and kitschy mise-en-scène. A few graphic segments commenting on the absurdity of war could even pass for excerpts from an film.

The film establishes a quixotic narrative as Candide learns of Cunégonde’s whereabouts and makes it his life’s mission to find her again. But the ideal romantic images he has in his mind turn sour again and again, hurting him more than any physical torture ever could. He never stops his search, however, in a journey that traverses not only continents, but also eras.

If the first half of the film incorporates anachronistic elements, the latter one leaves aside any pretense of a period piece, transferring our hero into the 20th century. It plays out like an attempt to reveal the ills of the film’s contemporary era as well as explore the timelessness of Voltaire’s fiction. Familiar faces like Pangloss reappear across time, in new historical settings but with similar ideologies guiding them.

Pangloss’ ideas reveal a hidden depth towards the finale: a stoicism lies under the pretense of optimism. And this is the closest to hope this movie has to offer as an antidote to this cruel world we inhabit.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Never prone to subtlety, the directors fill every frame with surreal twists, slapstick, sexuality, and repellent images. It’s certainly not a happy, upbeat narrative, but they overflow it with dazzling sequences, plus a carnival-on-peyote atmosphere… an impossible-to-categorize, absurdist masterpiece from the demented genius of Jacopetti and Prosperi.”–Steven Puchalski, Shock Cinema

(This movie was nominated for review by TheRealBpilgrim, who called it “the forgotten Jacopetti and Prosperi film.” Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)

I think this movie is weirder than average
I think this movie is better than average

Capsules

AMANECE, QUE NO ES POCO [DAWN BREAKS, WHICH IS NO SMALL THING] (1989)

Leave a comment

366 Weird Movies may earn commissions from purchases made through product links.

DIRECTED BY: José Luis Cuerda

FEATURING: Antonio Resines, José Sazatornil, Cassen, Luis Ciges

PLOT: An engineering professor returns to Spain to visit his father;  they take a trip to a remote village crowded with eccentric inhabitants where incongruous situations are the norm.

Still from AMANECE, QUE NO ES POCO (1989)

 

COMMENTS: José Luis Cuerda’s Amanece, Que No Es Poco (translated as Dawn Breaks, Which Is No Small Thing) is part of a group of Spanish films that professor and scriptwriter Jaime Bauzá identifies as “surruralismo,” a blending of surrealism and ruralism. In essence, all of these movies are absurdist comedies, which isn’t surprising considering small rural communities are often associated with traditional mindsets and tight-knit circles, and are thought to harbor suspicion of outsiders. Conversely, surrealism involves an intrusion of the weird into the ordinary, creating images that have no direct counterpart in reality. The surreal seeping into the rural therefore produces a unique dissonance.

Amanece, Que No Es Poco thrives on such incongruity. The film rejects traditional storytelling and linear narrative in favor of a sequence of vignettes featuring the inhabitants of a small village in Albacete, a Castilian province in central Spain. While there is a significant lack of plot, the motley crew of villagers and the bizarre situations they find themselves in make up for it. As Bauzá points out, there is no real protagonist in surruralismo; instead, viewers are presented with a parade of primary characters sharing a similar amount of screen time, each with their own funny circumstances. In Amanece, Que No Es Poco, some of these include men growing out of soil like plants, the village drunkard literally splitting into two personas, and a village school teacher singing and performing a lesson on different types of groins and their significance.

Such incongruous situations are not the only humorous element in the movie, but they reinforce the discordant dialogues between the colorful characters. The randomness of the lines in several scenes are laugh-out-loud funny, with changes in tone coming out of nowhere in a great display of absurdity. Cuerda makes fun of stereotypes about small towns and thwarts viewers’ expectations every few minutes. For instance, the film challenges the common perception of villagers as yokels by having them reference world literature—Faulkner, Dostoevsky, Nabokov, or Góngora are mentioned, among others—and philosophy—allusions to Stoicism and dialectical materialism appear out of the blue. It’s unlikely that these references add any intellectual depth to the story itself, but their mention amidst the coarser language found throughout the movie is hilarious.

Such intellectual references give the movie a universal feel that causes yet another dissonance with its very specific rural Spanish setting. As a result, the humor of Amanece, Que No Es Poco may fall flat, especially for viewers who are not familiar with Spanish village culture. There is a sociological idea of “deep Spain” (“España profunda”) referring to areas of the country that are profoundly conservative and staunchly uphold tradition. Cuerda mocks such narrow-minded attitude and introduces signs of progress within the structures of the village, such as the acceptance of foreigners rather than the embrace of isolationism. The importance of these signs risks becoming downplayed by the overall absurdity, however.

The cast does a great job portraying the quirky villagers, and one is always agog at the next bizarre scene. Sometimes characters reappear, but then new ones are introduced, and their storylines not necessarily concluded. Special effects are also notable for the time, and earned the film two nominations for the Goya Awards (the Spanish equivalent to the Oscars), alongside a nomination for the zanily original script.

Amanece, Que No Es Poco is a paradigmatic example of surruralismo and a by-the-book absurdist comedy. Looking for logic or deep meanings in such a movie may lead to frustration, so it’s preferable to go with the flow and be bombarded with the same nonsensical situations that the characters experience. As Wim Tigges put it in his doctoral dissertation, quoted by Neil Cornell in The Absurd in Literature (2006): “Nonsense is indeed one possible reflection of life in that it is at once both and neither meaningful and meaningless.” Nonsense in art is illogical on the surface, but at the same time follows its own logical system, requiring our innate knowledge of grammar, rhythm and tone for it to function, for us to try to recognize something hidden yet meaningful therein—otherwise, it would just be gibberish and noise, at best. In the paradoxical nature of nonsense we find an interpretation of human life in all its shades. Cuerda’s humorous and absurdist take not only reflects his thoughts on village culture, but also on the chaos of existence.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“One-of-a-kind Spanish surreal comedy that is so dense with gags, eccentricities, sketches, characters, fantastical absurdities and punchlines, that it is almost impossible to describe.”–Zev Toledano, The Worldwide Celluloid Massacre

No Image

Amanece, que no es poco

    Go to Amazon
    Capsules, It Came from the Reader-Suggested Queue

    IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: LATE AUGUST AT THE HOTEL OZONE (1967)

    1 Comment

     366 Weird Movies may earn commissions from purchases made through product links.

    Konec srpna v Hotelu Ozon

    DIRECTED BY: Jan Schmidt

    FEATURING: Beta Poničanová, Ondrej Jariabek, Magda Seidlerová, Hana Vítková, Jana Novaková, Vanda Kalinová, Natalie Maslovová, Irena Lžičařová, Jitka Hořejšías

    PLOT: In the wake of a nuclear apocalypse, a group of women wander the desolate landscape in search of life and sustenance, eventually discovering an old man living in the shattered remains of a hotel.Still from Late August at the Hotel Ozone (1967)

    COMMENTS: There wasn’t a whole lot of software available for the early iterations of the Macintosh computer, but one of the more popular and memorable programs was a simulated game of diplomacy called “Balance of Power.” As leader of either the United States or the Soviet Union, you were tasked with responding to world events in a way that burnished your own country’s reputation and boxed out your opponent. Of course, this leads to political brinksmanship, with each escalation inching the two powers ever closer to the ultimate conflict. If you misjudged the situation, the game concluded with a black screen that provided a particularly chilling finale: “You have ignited a nuclear war. And no, there is no animated display of a mushroom cloud with parts of bodies flying through the air. We do not reward failure.” It was a real gut-punch to a 15-year-old who only wanted to prevent the USSR from Finlandizing Austria.

    I hearken back to this example of video game shaming because it matches the mood set by Late August at the Hotel Ozone. The suggestions of familiar tropes—the post-nuclear landscape, a group of young women fending for themselves, small traces of the world before—set expectations that this film is only too happy to crush. Director Schmidt crafts a stark future with a documentarian’s eye, depicting a world cleaved of hope, where even death loses its power to shock—because there’s nothing else left.

    Most of the film is spent in the company of Dagmar, an older woman who recalls the times before the world ended and hopes there might be enough people left to rebuild humanity. In her charge are a group of young women who have learned the fundamentals of survival but have had little opportunity to develop their souls. They don’t say much, but their actions speak volumes. Finding a drum of petrol, they refill their canisters, but then one of them decides to set it on fire, for fun. Another takes the cache of bullets she has found and throws them into the flames, again for amusement. We’re quickly learning that life holds little allure to this group, something reflected in their treatment of animals. A girl rips apart a snake with her bare hands. Another teases a hungry stray dog before killing it with a bullet to the head. When they find a cow that they can kill for sustenance, the women tear at the flesh like ravenous hyenas. (The film’s lore says that none of these animal encounters are faked; if true, we’re also dealing with a snuff film.) Whatever rules we think society should have, they don’t matter here.

    So stumbling across the old man at the hotel is like crossing a generational gap. Despite everyone around him having died, Hubert has persisted, maintaining the place in expectation of the day when guests will return as part of a pleasure trip. Dagmar and Hubert find some comfort in their shared experiences, and their very tastes mark them as alien. The girls are repulsed by the idea of drinking milk, and they are clearly baffled by the rituals of a dinner with silverware and candles. Reportedly, several of the performers were not professional actors (one account suggests they were members of the Czech military), and there’s something chilling about their sense of detachment. Hubert’s proudest possession, a Victrola with a recording of “Roll Out the Barrel,” is notable as the one thing that inspires something deeper in the women, a piece of art amidst the desolation. Naturally, it’s more important than life itself. 

    While the two old people are our connection to the familiar, the fact is that this is not their world. It belongs to the young women who have inherited the dying wasteland, and the violence that ends the film is woefully inevitable. This is an apocalypse for a reason, and this film takes the position that the world will not end with gut-wrenching action or even tear-stained melancholy, but rather with ignorance laced with id-fueled apathy. If we leave our children nothing, nothing is what they will take to their hearts. There will be no reward for failure.

    WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

    “… this trek though the post-apocalypse wastelands is far more Stalker (1979) than Road Warrior… a bleak film but ultimately a rewarding one.”–Kevin Lyons, The EOFFTV Review

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

    No Image

    The End of August at the Hotel Ozone

      Go to Amazon

      Capsules

      CAPSULE: THE MAN WHO WASN’T THERE (2001)

      1 Comment

      366 Weird Movies may earn commissions from purchases made through product links.

      Recommended

      DIRECTED BY: Joel Coen, Ethan Coen

      FEATURING: , , , , , Tony Shalhoub

      PLOT: A stoical barber develops a plan to blackmail his wife’s employer, which spirals out of control.

      Still from the Man Who Wasn't There (2001)

      COMMENTS: The Coen Brothers began their career in film noir with Blood Simple (1984), and much of their subsequent work has either referenced or revolved around noirish themes. Blood Simple, alongside Fargo (1996) and No Country for Old Men (2007), are classic neo-noirs in rural settings. Non-noir offerings like Miller’s Crossing (1990) and Barton Fink (1991) still feature doomed, alienated heroes and challenging ethical dilemmas, and even The Big Lebowski (1998) flirts with noir themes with its complicated crime caper in an LA setting. But The Man Who Wasn’t There is their one take on the classic formula: post-war period setting, chiaroscuro cinematography, carefully-planned crime that goes horribly wrong, moral corruption, and a flawed protagonist increasingly resigned to his dim fate. Who wouldn’t want to see the brothers give their straightforward take on film noir, with all the moralistic nihilism that implies?

      The plot is a classic noir knot: a “simple” act of blackmail leads to a pair of unintended murders, which leads to the wrong person being put on trial, which, in a roundabout way, eventually leads to misplaced but ironically appropriate justice. Our antihero, Ed Crane, is a disaffected barber who is only slightly more engaged with the world than Mersault. He tolerates his job; he likes his wife and their passionless life together well-enough, even though he suspects she may be cheating on him. His descent into crime happens on a whim, to garner investment funds after hearing a pitch by a dry-cleaning entrepreneur. He’s a man of few words, except when it comes time to deliver expository voiceovers.

      In some sense, there isn’t a lot there in The Man That Wasn’t There. Although there are twists, the plot often drags, like Ed Crane’s own mundane suburban life. But for a single bad decision, Ed would not have left much of a mark on the world: he would have glided through life silently cutting hair and smoking cigarettes, dispassionate and content to watch life slip by. He’s a barber by profession, but it’s just something he drifted into; really, “that'”barber” is too much of an identity for him. As he says, he “just cuts the hair.” In the course of the film, he develops exactly two passions: once, his brief interest in dry-cleaning, and a more substantial interest in the teenage daughter of a drunken customer (it’s not what your dirty mind is thinking; he’s charmed by her faltering rendition of a Beethoven piano sonata). Both times, his sudden engagement with the world leads him to unwitting tragedy.

      The Man Who Wasn’t There is, mostly, a solid, authentic rendition of the classical noir style. It only departs from the 40s formula in a few particulars. Homosexuality is acknowledged and plays a role in the plot; Ed’s slightly inappropriate fixation on Birdy also crosses a line that would have barely been hinted at by the previous cinematic generation. Further, the film is more obviously and artily existential than its forebears. The Coens humorously reference Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle (absurdly, Ed’s trial lawyer wants to make it the centerpiece of his defense), which presages their more thorough exploration of the enigma of Schrödinger’s famous feline in A Serious Man. Finally, the movie’s weirdest element (perhaps its only weird element) is the mysterious usage of UFOs as a metaphor for…. something (modern man’s futile search for meaning in the universe?) But these eccentricities hardly depart much from the source homage, making The Man Who Wasn’t There a satisfying throwback to a simpler age, when people were more complex.

      WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

      “…a curious mix of tragedy and humor filmed in stark black and white… succeeds in establishing a mood of existential absurdity..”–Robert Roten, Laramie Movie Scope (contemporaneous)

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

      No Image

      The Man Who Wasn't There (Criterion Collection)

        Go to Amazon
        Capsules, Shorts

        CAPSULE: GIRL INTERNET SHOW: A KATI KELLI MIXTAPE (2023)

        1 Comment

        366 Weird Movies may earn commissions from purchases made through product links.

        DIRECTED BY: Kati Kelli

        FEATURING: Kati Kelli

        PLOT: Selections from Kati Keli’s surreal, satirical YouTube channel mixed into a feature film, plus her only completed short, “Total Body Removal Surgery.”

        Still from "Girl Internet Show: A Kati Kelli Mixtape" (2023)

        COMMENTS: It’s not the first thing Kati Kelli uploaded to YouTube, but the most accessible entry point to this bizarro YouTube creator’s world is “Marva the MILF,” a 14-episode series that works as recognizable satire. It’s the only strain where Kelli plays a consistent character, a 50-year-YOUNG unapologetic golddigger and would-be glamour influencer in a blonde wig wearing too much bronzer. Cluelessly arrogant Marva refers to her audience as “babies” (or sometimes “fuglies”) and complains about her daughter ignoring her beauty advice because she (eye-roll) “wants to be herself.” Marva even stays in character while jumping on the ASMR trend: while tapping her fingernails as she mimics applying mascara to the viewer, she whispers “I’m not sponsored, I’m just a big fan… I always blow hubby’s money on this brand.”

        But that focused character is a big departure from the usual inventory of her “Girl Internet Show” channel, which quickly turned manic when Kelli discovered the joys of Adobe After Effects suite. Future, non-Marva episodes quickly went techno-maximalist, with hyper editing, text flying about, shots of social media feeds, Kelli’s head swelling into a bulbous monstrosity, altered film speeds, random musical accompaniment, cartoonish sound effects, gif bluebirds circling her head, miscellaneous filters, stock photos of broccoli zipping across the screen, and basically any kind of embellishment that seized her short-attention-span fancy. Sure, she still mocked the vapid self-absorption of overly-dramatic V-loggers and beauty influencers, but the satire was more of an excuse for relentless experimentation and absurdity than the meat of her vegan aesthetic. Episodes might be anything from a fashion show to a commercial spoof to a fake confessional to relatively sedate entries like Kelli gyrating maniacally while holding a glass of wine or wearing a skull mask, playing a ukulele, or shaking a ragdoll to simulate dancing while singing monotonously. The entire “show” is shot in a single apartment, often with her pop-surreal, occasionally obscene artwork displayed on the walls; when it’s necessary to add another character, Kelli simply dons a wig, or incorporates a Barbie doll. (She does have, at least, the assistance of an unseen and uncredited cameraperson—and a housecat.) It doesn’t hurt anything that Kelli is conventionally gorgeous, with luminous olive-green eyes, full lips, and a model’s figure, which only makes her choice to specialize in completely uncommercial culture-jamming media hit harder. And although her comedy is mostly of the absurd non-sequitur variety, she gets across the occasional zinger, as when describing her multitudinous mental maladies, she muses, “I’m also diagnosed as being an amazing kisser… actually, by the same psychologist who diagnosed me as having daddy issues.”

        Kelli also made a parody of Spring Breakers featuring only Barbie dolls.

        Kelli’s final completed piece was the short film “Total Body Removal Surgery,” a Kickstarted project which was not posted to YouTube (it’s the only truly exclusive content included on the Vinegar Syndrome Blu-ray). Although Kelli plays a new character named “Tippy Rose” and for the first time includes other actors (memorably, the freakishly lantern-jawed Dr. Locker, played by none other than Escape from Tomorrow‘s Roy Abamsohn) and non-apartment locations in the video, the fractured multimedia aesthetic will be completely familiar to “Girl Internet Show” fans. The brief story concerns the titular medical procedure and the satire of cosmetic surgery is obvious, though done with Kelli’s usual verve.  Sadly, Kelli died suddenly—of, of all things, an asthma attack—only three days after “Total Body Removal Surgery” was completed. This mixtape version of her legacy, assembled by admirer and her husband Jordan Wipple, flows well and is a fond remembrance of her out-there artistry. Rather than being a completed product, Kelli’s work suggests a talent that was just beginning to find her legs in her late 20s, cut off just as she was ready to launch. It’s a shame that she was never able to expand her canvas beyond YouTube, but her work should inspire a generation of independent artists looking for a template for how to create engaging art with nothing more than a camera, a few wigs, dolls, the After Effects suite, and broadband wifi.

        WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

        “…not just a hilarious, weird anthology, but also an elegy and a tribute to a loved one and an outsider artist.”–Anton Bitel, Projected Figures

        Girl Internet Show: A Kati Kelli Mixtape

        Girl Internet Show: A Kati Kelli Mixtape [Blu-ray]

        • Region Free Blu-ray

        List Price : 36.97 $

        Offer: 22.36 $

        Go to Amazon