Tag Archives: Experimental

CAPSULE: BARBECUE THEM (1981)

Souvliste tous! Etsi tha paroume to kouradokastro

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Recommended

DIRECTED BY: Nikos Zervos

FEATURING: Konstantinos Hristidis, Dimitris Poulikakos, Thekla Tselepi

PLOT: The daily escapades of a group of hippies, two men and two women, in 1980s Athens.

Copy Barbecue This! (1981)

COMMENTS: The tale begins after the clumsy introduction of our protagonists, each presented with a distinct musical theme. We follow a group of wannabe hippies with weird names like Daisy, Oratios and Kyros, as if taken out of Mickey Mouse comics.  This group, vagabonds in the eyes of society, live without regular jobs, indulging in free love, listening to rock and roll, and finding money mainly by asking their middle-class relatives. They wander through Athens and the surrounding countryside without clear purpose at first, but find one towards the end of the movie when they attempt to save a friend of theirs from a satanic psychiatrist. Yes, it is as silly as it sounds.

What we have here is a free-form, not exactly coherent, almost improvisational narrative portraying the underground rock music scene of 1980s Greece. Segments attack middle-class hypocrisy, from the pseudo-intellectual reporters who approach our characters pretending to be interested in the underground rock scene to portraits of traditional nuclear families hiding  wild instincts and a myriad of pathologies under a pretense of normalcy. This becomes the main focus of the second half of the film when one family’s daughter, Elenitsa, is put in a psychiatric hospital against her will. Our deadbeats attempt to save her.

This is not a movie that takes itself or its main characters too seriously, however. Daisy, Oratios, Kyros, and even Elenitsa claim to be idealists, but are proven hollow in the end, unable to bring about real social change. An alternative title of the movie roughly translates as “This is how we are waiting to take the castle made of shit?” This is exactly what one of group wonders about himself and his friends, underlining the hollowness of their rebellion. Their fight against the castle made of shit is in vain—because they do not really want to fight, they just want to have fun.

Dimitris Poulikakos, a well known rock musician in Greece, narrates the tale in voice-over. Polikakos also appears in Aldevaran (1975), an earlier Greek movie of a similar style portraying the underground art and music scene of the 1970s.  This movie also shares some DNA with other works of its director, Nikos Zervos, like Exoristos stin kentriki leoforo ( 1979). Not only are there common themes like the hollowness of the hippie lifestyle, but they share similar narrative approaches, defying traditional structures.

If it is not already clear, this is not exactly a surreal movie. It is a parody and deconstruction of middle-class morality and of counterculture idealism, but this only makes it slightly eccentric. It should be noted that technical aspects make it a difficult watch, as the audio quality is really bad. It will also be a real challenge for non-Greeks to find this one. Copies exist online—though not in well-known legit platforms—and some DVDs can be found, but without English subtitles.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

No other reviews found.

366 UNDERGROUND: HAUNTERS OF THE SILENCE (2025)

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Weirdest!

DIRECTED BY: Tatu Heikkinen, Veleda Thorsson-Heikkinen

FEATURING: Tatu Heikkinen, John Haughm, Veleda Thorsson-Heikkinen

PLOT: Strange events beset a grieving husband in the wee hours of the night leading into October 31st.

Still from Haunters of the Silence (2025)

COMMENTS: The facts, as best they might be determined, are these: 1) the unnamed lead character has lost his beloved wife, and 2) his night-vision exterior surveillance camera picked up more than just a midnight rodent behaving in a silly manner. As for the rest of Haunters of the Silence, it’s just about all up for interpretation. A faded photographic image loses a balloon, a father (?), and finally a boy; ceremonial drumming may be a temporary cure for mind de-anchoring; and if a dream facsimile of your dead wife mutters “It’s okay”, perhaps it’s best to take her at her word.

Or not.

In the hopes of better explaining the Haunters of the Silence experience, I quote from director Tatu Heikkinen’s IMDb bio: “His work embraces abstraction and emotional stillness—rejecting the fast-paced editing in favor of grounded, contemplative storytelling.” This statement, as reflected in Haunters, is true in many ways. Heikkinen (and his real-life wife and co-director, Veleda Thorsson-Heikkinen) embraces abstraction and emotional stillness. Abstraction comes in many forms, many of them being unlikely camera foregrounds framing background action, for instance, but also long stroboscopic sequences, and plenty of forays into straight-up dream imagery. (The protagonist retreating through a large storm drain through the center of the Shadow Man’s menacing outline in the cosmos is of particular note.)

Haunters of the Silence does have fast-paced editing, though. Shots hastily flicker from one to the next, which might risk leaving the viewer disoriented if weren’t for the meticulous, subtle, and grounding sound design: the listener, as it were, is rarely if ever jarred from the dream-logic ordeals put before them. This sensory-tension works nicely with the temporal-tension: time does not pass per usual in this film, and the Ancient and the Modern co-exist, with incense-burning and buzzing smartphones pulling upon each other across the millennia of human ritual.

As the reader will have noticed, my remarks fell into abstruseness more quickly than usual here, but I blame that on what I saw (and heard). Haunters of the Silence is a weird thing to experience—and it is more in the realm of an experience than a customary film. Tatu Heikkinen and Veleda Thorsson-Heikkinen have built a precise sequence of sounds and images, which is as often baffling as it is beautiful. I give nothing away with this observation on the final scene when the Shadow Man emerges through the bedroom door of now-waking protagonist: life—like time, memory, and grief—does not finish so long as we are on this Earth.

If not longer.

Currently streaming on Relay, check the Haunters of the Silence official website for future updates.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Haunters of the Silence is avowedly experimental; this is not a narrative piece of filmmaking in any recognisable way, so this review opens with a proviso: it will not be for everyone, and in fact it will probably appeal to a very select band of film fans.” — Keri O’Shea, Warped Perspective (contemporaneous)

IT CAME FROM THE READER SUGGESTED QUEUE: IT COULDN’T HAPPEN HERE (1987)

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“I’ve just been fishing with Salvador Dali. He used a dotted line. . . caught every other fish.”

DIRECTED BY: Jack Bond

FEATURING: Neil Tennant, Chris Lowe

PLOT: From West End towns with dead end walls, the Pet Shop Boys travel around England before ending up at King’s Cross; all the while, singer Neil Tennant recalls his childhood memories in a narrative postcard to his mother.

COMMENTS: By 1987 the Pet Shop Boys had produced two hit albums with a number of chart-topping singles but they still couldn’t afford the expense of touring. When a planned concert fell through, their manager suggested they make a film, something like did with A Hard Day’s Night. Director Jack Bond, whose prior credits included the documentary Dali in New York (1965) and a series of experimental films with Jane Arden, proved integral to the project. Structured as a road movie, Bond turns the film into a Surrealist game of free association. Though punctuated by popular songs, It Couldn’t Happen Here sank into obscurity after being panned by film critics.

Anyone expecting this to be a typical band film must have been surprised by a movie that’s anything but. It lacks concert footage and behind-the-scenes interviews; instead, the Boys meander through a series of vignettes. Lyrics suddenly crop up in the dialogue as spoken word poetry or snippets on the radio. Fans of Tennant’s literate compositions, in which love, romance, and commerce all intertwine, will instantly recognize them. To anyone less familiar with the music, the isolated refrains make the film even more enigmatic.

The road trip begins at the seashore. Tennant stops by a souvenir stand to purchase  bawdy holiday postcards. He reminisces about his family nearly being kicked out of a boarding house due to his bad behavior. The scene then cuts to Chris Lowe, narrowly escaping the same overbearing landlady after he throws his breakfast in her face. “Chrissy, baby,” she moans, “what have I done to deserve this?”

The present day continually blends with the past as Lowe joins Tennant at the seaside and a blind priest chases two schoolboys through a carnival. After Tennant recalls how his father once spent their family’s savings on a blue and cream-colored Ford Zephyr, the priest then reappears as a hitchhiking serial killer. While Lowe drives and Tennant lip-syncs to himself on the radio, the hitchhiker gleefully recounts his murderous exploits with Salvador Dalí as they continue their journey across the country.

A pitstop at a diner stars a ventriloquist’s dummy who rants about the nature of time, sparking an existential crisis in a pilot seated nearby. A plane and car-chase scene, reminiscent of North by Northwest, ends in front of a phone booth being vandalized by Neo-Nazis, who politely cease in their destruction so Tennant can call the landlady.

And so it goes, passing from one bizarre set-piece to another, the proceedings occasionally interrupted by MTV-style dance breaks. Tennant and Lowe retain deadpan expressions throughout, observing everything from a man on fire and zebra keepers with black-and-white striped faces with incurious nonchalance.

Re-considering It Couldn’t Happen Here, some commentators are kinder to it in hindsight, uncovering clever political critique lurking beneath the odd sensibility. Others are not so nice, declaring it a misguided foray best left forgotten. Dedicated fans of the Pet Shop Boys should seize opportunities to check it out on physical media or streaming; there’s a certain nostalgia to hearing the group’s hits again in this context. For others, it’s an interesting, if not entirely successful, attempt at making a film according to Surrealist principles; at least, that’s my impression.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…the result is as idiosyncratic to the deadpan duo as A Hard Day’s Night was to the Fab Four. The film takes second place in a Fellini-style phantasmagoria of British seaside life, mixing past, present and abstract surrealism…”–Eddie Harrison, film-authority

(This movie was nominated for review by “Chris R.” Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)