Tag Archives: Body horror

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: THE THINGY: CONFESSIONS OF A TEENAGE PLACENTA (2013)

AKA The Miracle of Life

Weirdest!

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DIRECTED BY: Joël Rabijns, Yves Sondermeier

FEATURING: Pascal Maetens, Karel Vingerhoets, Celine Verbeeck

PLOT: Marianne loses her child at birth but the placenta miraculously lives, is named and baptized, and grows up to endure scorn and loneliness.

Still from The Thingy: Confessions of a Teenage Placenta (2013)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: When trying to describe Thingy, you inevitably think of Basket Case, but in doing so you miss the mile-wide streak of pathos that this movie feels for its grotesque hero. Here is a film that dares to place an oozing lump of Silly Putty at its center, and insists on presenting it as a cautionary tale about intolerance. The film sees the obvious joke of this ridiculous premise, but forces you to view it through the saddest possible lens.

COMMENTS: Whenever you think life is handing you the short end of the stick, poor Luke is here to assure you that it could be so, so much worse. Just being a teenager is difficult enough, what with having to navigate the land mines of high school hierarchies, recognizing your elders for the flawed human beings they are, and trying to get a sense of your own personality. It’s infinitely more complicated to look in the mirror and see, looking back at you, an unholy mashup of Grimace, tandoori chicken, and a Pink Pearl eraser.

You could easily be misled by the title into thinking that this is a wild romp through the fields of giddy indecency. It’s a marketing ploy suggesting a level of camp and silliness appropriate to the label. But Luke is never addressed by the title’s demeaning sobriquet, and he never confesses to anything. Curiously enough, the sensationalist approach lends the film a certain credibility, because despite the creepy extremism of the scenario, this is a painfully serious film, a sympathetic plea for tolerance for all the sentient birth membranes out there whom society treats appallingly.

If ever a character manifested his own disappointment into existence, Luke is that hero. He has just one eye, uses what remains of the umbilical cord as his only limb, relies on a toy jeep to get around, and he speaks with a sad, resigned voice that can only be described as Flemish (the actual actor goes uncredited). He’s utterly ridiculous, which is the cue for Rabijns and Sondermeier to keep putting him in the most normal of situations and watching as he completely fails to fit in. At school, at home, at work (as a front-of-the-house order taker at a fast food joint notably called “Hamburger Holocaust”): everywhere Luke goes he meets with derision. It’s just drawn to him, as it would be. He is truly a sad sack.

Even if the movie didn’t have Luke, it still has a collection of parts just as unusual, just as disturbing. Leading the pack is Luke’s mother Marianne, played for no obvious reason by male actor Maetens. She isn’t played for laughs or irony or even to make a point. In fact, the casting becomes completely irrelevant once Marianne fully gives in to her work-out addiction, which consists of exclusively building the muscle of her right arm to ‘roided extremes. (Why only one arm? She explains: “I get what I want with only half the work.”) Less showy but equally strange is Father Gritty, the priest who magnanimously grants the little lump the rites of baptism. It initially feels like a gesture of supreme grace, but it starts to seem like he has no other parishioners, and the man of the cloth has a peculiar interest in his godson’s growth, eagerly asking for details about the legs of a girl Luke is sweet on. Plus, there’s the overall sense that everyone in the film is committed to the fact of Luke’s existence, but equally as certain that he will endure nothing but scorn. The Thingy has the feel of a Weekly World News article transformed into an ABC Afterschool Special.

The Thingy feels peculiarly American, a strange sensation given that this Belgian production barely tries to hide its accents. It’s tempting to look for some trace of satire: the sensationalized news perpetually running on TV, the familiarity of the class-conscious high school, the fact that Marianne has been passing Luke’s father off as having been fighting in Vietnam for seemingly years… it all of it points to a strangely cartoonish view of the States. Even so, the film seemingly has no axes to grind. In fact, it’s only in its final scenes that the movie loses the sheen of its strangeness by descending into an orgy of nihilistic violence. Only here, in pursuit of its final tragic punchline, do the filmmakers run out of story and decide to punctuate the climax with a series of horrible acts. If The Thingy falls apart just short of the finish line, the fact is it remains a singular work, creating an unthinkable situation and treating it with the gravity, sincerity, and honesty that it demands. Poor Luke. There but for the grace of God go you and I.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“There’s one thing The Thingy: Confessions of a Teenage Placenta is for certain … and that’s weird… this film is less spectacle and more beyond spectacle – which is quite a feat and results in a very unusual movie!” – Mike Haberfelner, (re)Search My Trash

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

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The Thingy: Confessions Of A Teenage Placenta (Blu-ray)

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CAPSULE: MERMAID IN A MANHOLE (1988)

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Ginî piggu: Manhôru no naka no ningyo; AKA Guinea Pig 5: Mermaid in the Manhole

Beware

DIRECTED BY: Hideshi Hino

FEATURING: Shigeru Shaiki, Mari Somei, Masami Hisamoto

PLOT: An artist is inspired by an infected mermaid found in the sewers.

Still from Mermaid in a Manhole (1988)

COMMENTS: The “Guinea Pig” series is an infamous Japanese extreme gore franchise of the 1980s. The first two installments are pioneers of the torture porn subgenre, creating the tropes such films now rely on. Later installments become more conceptually creative, however, with Mermaid in a Manhole—the only entry with fantasy elements—-the prime example.

The story follows an unnamed, grief-stricken artist. After the loss of his wife, he finds solace by exploring the sewers, painting dismembered pieces of an idolized past he finds scattered around.  Among these broken mementos, he discovers a beautiful mermaid. He is shocked to notice she is infected with something,  so he decides to take her home to look after her. And an odyssey of blood and flesh begins.

Despite the lyrical set-up, this cinematic experience is as extreme and as nauseating as it can get.  “Extreme Cinema: Affective Strategies in Transnational Media” by Aaron Michael Kerner and Jonathan L. Knapp will prove useful in anatomizing the grotesqueries. As it often is with extreme horror,  parallels can be traced with pornography in the way the (female) body is depicted (and dissected).

Mermaid features a plethora of meat shots, with close-ups on the creature’s beautiful feminine body as it is gradually desecrated by a cancerous (if phantasmagorical) illness. The descent is accompanied by moaning. Everything culminates in a series of increasingly disturbing shots, as weird, multi-colored secretions ooze  from the tumors engulfing the mermaid’s body. This is truly body-horror at its most disgusting and depraved.

There are hints of artistic ambition under the monstrosity,  however. The film’s visual palette combines dark tones with more vibrant ones to reflect on nostalgia and the passage of time. Piano tunes create the necessary ambience and enhance the sense of dread.  And there is something of an allegorical meditation on sepsis and decay.

The movie could work better, however, with a more elliptical approach.  Mermaid unnecessarily indulges in brutal realism. Secondary characters add nothing substantial, except some clumsy exposition. And the finale is simplistic and out-of-place in its attempt to rationalize the events prior to it. Yes, the movie doesn’t provide certainty, but the way it blurs the lines between what is real and what is not is unnecessary in this context, looking like a banal gimmick out of a psychological thriller.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:  

“…repulses and intrigues at the same time, and feeds not only your appetite for onscreen weirdness, but also your brain.”–Ian Jane, Rock! Shock! Pop! (“Guinea Pig” box set)

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

CAPSULE: EGG (2005)

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Recommended

DIRECTED BY: Yukihiko Tsutsumi

FEATURING: Inuko Inuyama, Hye- yeong Jo, Megumi Ujiie

PLOT: A girl finds herself tormented by the image of a hatching egg whenever she closes her eyes.

Still from Egg (2005)

COMMENTS: A violent confrontation while introducing a narrative is a tried and tested way to grab the audience’s attention. This method is applied in Egg, and along with erratic editing, rough cuts, many close-ups and zoom-ins, it creates a certain tension. This will be a wild ride, as the story follows a young girl attempting to come to terms with a highly disturbing situation.

The plot revolves around the daily routine of a seemingly ordinary young woman. She has friends, works a nonsensical futuristic job (as in out of the popular TV show ” Severance”), and tries to live a normal life. However, whenever she closes her eyes, her inner world appears, and inside this world is an egg ready to hatch. Tsutsumi’s experience as a visual artist and music video director comes in handy here as he creates an oppressive, eerie, otherworldly inner landscape, with some truly grotesque monsters later on.

Our protagonist’s situation develops into a double confrontation: on the one hand, with the creature lurking inside the egg, and on the other, with a familial legacy of similar cases. The danger represented by the creature transforms into something concrete and physical, as it becomes apparent it doesn’t exist only in her mind, but inside her lower abdomen, as well. And like any baby, it attempts to get out, albeit in a messier than usual way. Light body horror is part of the deal here, but nothing too gruesome. Instead, the film works mostly as a suspense survival thriller, with rich allegorical undertones.

Underneath the lore and imagery is a commentary on female physiology, the nature of pregnancy, and the acceptance (or not) of this seemingly unavoidable reality. In this context, Egg also works as a coming-of-age tale. Early on, a doctor our heroine consults suggests she is still a child, at least mentally, hinting at an upcoming transformation. The use of body horror to comment on themes of pregnancy and female physiology brings to mind the work of , especially Evolution (2015).

Some light comedic elements are expressed here, mostly through exaggerated acting, but they remain underdeveloped. Ultimately Egg is not a black comedy as much as a deeply and earnestly symbolic J-horror with feminist implications, essential for fans of the art-house and the bizarre.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:  

“…a bizarre tale and quite unlike anything else out there, but nevertheless a rather enjoyable one – Niina Doherty, HorrorNews.Net 

CAPSULE: ALPHA (2025)

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 Alpha is available to rent or purchase on-demand.

DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Mélissa Boros, , Tahar Rahim

PLOT: Young teenager Alpha gets a homemade tattoo, and her doctor mother obsesses over the possibility that she may have contacted a disease that will turn her into a statue; meanwhile, her heroin-addicted uncle comes to crash in their small Parisian flat.

Still from alpha (2025)

COMMENTS: Alpha, the movie, is sick with contagion and addiction. In this diseased alternate-reality Paris, an Arab single-mom doctor tries to protect her improbably-named daughter Alpha from the dangers of the outside world. When the girl experiments with her limited teen freedom, getting a rustic homemade “A” tattoo on her arm at a party while intoxicated, her mother freaks out: where did the needle come from? Was it properly sterilized? Because, you see, there is a blood-borne disease going around which slowly turns those infected into statues. It primarily affects homosexuals and intravenous drug users, but unsanitary tattoo needles are also a disease vector. Fear that she may be deathly ill, and ostracism from her schoolmates once the rumors start circulating, aren’t the only stresses in Alpha’s life; her emaciated, estranged, heroin-addicted uncle, who is a stranger to her, has also moved into the small flat as he tries to get clean after a lifetime of relapses. At school, Alpha also keeps inconveniently (and humiliatingly) bleeding from her slow-to-heal tattoo wound; curious, although also seemingly tangential to the film’s main theme.

Despite the magical-realist plague and some confusing flashbacks, Alpha essentially plays out as a coming-of-age family drama. The three principals all do fine work, with Rahim (whose visible ribs suggest must have laid off baguettes for months in preparing for his junkie role) a particular standout. Cinematography is crisp, and needle drops from Portishead and Nick Cave add an undeniable (if possibly anachronistic) coolness factor.

Despite mostly eschewing the horror elements this time to focus on familial drama and teen anxiety, Ducournau retains her talent for conceiving scenes that are, on the surface, completely innocent, but which hint at deep perversions: in this case, a bit where Alpha’s jittery uncle white-knuckles his way through opiate withdrawal, while the anxious Alpha tries to fall sleep in bed next to him in their shared bedroom. The dreadful atmosphere of rising pandemic feeds into Alpha’s developmental worries. Growing independence, annoyance with lame and overprotective adults, and awkward liaisons with hormonal boys hardly override fears of death and an unstable adult roommate constantly on the verge of fatal overdose.

Alpha is well-written, well-acted, well-shot, well-scored, and has an serious emotional core… and yet, for some reason I can’t find it in my stony heart to unconditionally recommend it. The problem here is that, while Titane succeeded because it was a weird movie that slowly developed a deep emotional appeal, Alpha underwhelms because it starts as a humanist drama and then tacks on unnecessary surreal accoutrements. While Ducournau’s two previous efforts were weird movies that provided accommodations for art-house patrons, this one is an art-house movie offering accommodations for fans expecting something strange. Other than allowing an excuse for some cool makeup, the marbelizing symptom of the central disease adds little to the movie’s emotional or aesthetic effect. Had Ducournau made a standard drama, she might have gained a more appreciative audience… though at the cost of her reputation as one of the few provocateurs willing to ignore the inconvenient blah-ness of reality. Still, even if Alpha is not entirely a success, it’s a good film, and we’re happy to note Ducournau hasn’t sold out to the commercial allure of realist cinema. Let’s hope this is a temporary retreat, and she’ll relocate the bloody pulse of deep, dark weirdness for her next project.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Strident, oppressive, incoherent and weirdly pointless from first to last … Julia Ducournau’s new film Alpha has to be the most bewildering disappointment of this year’s Cannes competition; even an honest lead performance from Mélissa Boros can’t retrieve it.”–Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian (festival screening)

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IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: QUICKSILVER HIGHWAY (1997)

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DIRECTED BY: Mick Garris

FEATURING: Christopher Lloyd, , Raphael Sbarge, Missy Crider

PLOT: The mysterious Aaron Quicksilver shares two tales of ill-fated individuals: a traveling salesman who encounters a suspicious set of novelty clattering teeth, and a plastic surgeon who finds that his hands have developed minds of their own.

Still from Quicksilver Highway (1997)

COMMENTS: Horror on television is a tricky proposition. The genre frequently relies upon visceral shock and gore, elements too unseemly for broadcast, which is why the most successful series either emphasize psychological terror or abscond to cable where the standards are looser. But Bless Mick Garris for continuing to try. He is responsible for five Stephen King TV adaptations, including takes on classics The Stand and The Shining. Plu,s he’s well-versed in the televised horror anthology, with credits in “Tales from the Crypt,” “Freddy’s Nightmares,” and “Masters of Horror.” If anyone is going to make Quicksilver Highway work, it’s Garris.

He doesn’t, though. That’s not necessarily his fault, of course. The film is a busted pilot, with two unrelated episodes inelegantly slammed together. They both traffic in body horror, a genre that is never going to get a fair hearing on network TV. The small-screen budget is also a limitation, with simplistic special effects (including some terrible CGI) and overly broad acting. The stories are also heavily padded to fill out 45 minutes apiece, with long diversions into pointless philosophical debates and weak character monologues arriving right at the moment when the story really needs to be gaining steam. Mostly, though, the finger needs to be pointed at the material, which is best described as “better on paper.” Neither of these are horror short story classics from genre masters King and Clive Barker, but one can see how they managed to create a sense of unease though their unlikely subjects. But visualizing them, without the reader’s imagination to hide behind, reveals them as low-stakes and low-impact. 

The King story, “Chattering Teeth,” relies upon a familiar trope from the author, an innocent-looking object that carries with it bad juju and sinister intent. A classic monkey’s-paw scenario. In this case, the object is an oversized set of windup walking choppers, which the protagonist somehow imagines is going to be the perfect gift to appease his disappointed son. When the novelty mandibles attack a nasty hitchhiker, it’s impossible to see it as anything other than an actor forced to pretend-wrestle with a goofy prop. The teeth need to have a “creepy doll” vibe in order to work, and they just don’t.

The second tale, Barker’s “The Body Politic,” finds greater success by indulging in sublime silliness. Here’s a villain we can get behind: human hands which have somehow become imbued with the spirit of Che Guevara, calling for liberation from the oppression of being attached to Matt Frewer. They are ridiculous little gremlins, speaking to each other with Smurf-like voices and hyperactively gesturing at each other while plotting their revolution. They’re risible, but they benefit from a couple solid jump-scares and the full commitment of Frewer, who actually does some pretty nifty acting with opportunities for his face and his hands to play conflicting emotions. Once again, though, what probably reads as spectacularly macabre on the page becomes ludicrous on screen, as when Frewer outwits a whole platoon of severed hands by leading them off the roof of a building, resulting in the jaw-dropping sight of dozens of hands flinging themselves into oblivion. I am sure you’re supposed to laugh in shock. The laughter you get is different.

The connective tissue is our good Mr. Quicksilver, a sort of wandering troubadour of the grotesque. He repeatedly insists that his tales have no moral, but contempt for his audience positively oozes out of him. Lloyd is a curious choice for a narrator. Already odd with his spiky red hair, black peasant’s blouse and knee-high leather boots, looking for all the world like Johnny Rotten in a witches’ coven, he’s an actor we often recognize for his manic interior that threatens to break into the open. This puts him at odds with the cool detachment he tries to project, the hint of judgment from on high that we associate with Rod Serling in “The Twilight Zone,” Vic Perrin in “The Outer Limits,” or even David Duchovny in “Red Shoe Diaries.” It’s telling that, the moment he gets someone to join him in his trailer for a pleasant meal, he immediately jumps into an indictment of America as a land of lies and darkness. (He’s not necessarily wrong, but it’s hardly an icebreaker.) It’s hard to understand why someone would sit through his spiel. Intriguingly, one can easily imagine Frewer in the role in a slightly lower-budget version.

Quicksilver Highway isn’t bad, just extremely inessential, an empty-calorie snack that’s not a career highlight for any of its participants. If you’re driving out west and happen to pass by a strange-looking man in a Rolls-Royce towing an Airstream trailer, don’t stop for one of his stories. Not because of the horrible fate that awaits you. But because there are so many better things to do.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“It’s odd, it meanders, it has unusual moralist tales, and it’s totally goofy. It’s not great, but it has a charm that’s hard to resist.” – Jolie Bergman, Horror Habit

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