Tag Archives: Made for Television

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: RELICS: EINSTEIN’S BRAIN (1994)

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DIRECTED BY: Kevin Hull

FEATURING: Kenji Sugimoto

PLOT: A documentary account of a Japanese math professor who comes to America in search of his hero, Albert Einstein— specifically, the scientist’s brain, which was extracted during an autopsy and removed to points unknown.

Still from "Relics: Einstein's Brain" (1994)

COMMENTS: Among the most cherished books of my childhood were the three volumes that made up “The People’s Almanac,” a peculiar reference book that purported to comprise only the most interesting and widely unknown stories and facts from the span of recorded history. Where else would biographies of fictional characters who have become immortal through extended popularity sit comfortably alongside histories of some of the world’s leading news publications? A particularly memorable story was the one told in “People’s Almanac #3” by journalist Steven Levy about his successful search for Albert Einstein’s mind-meat, harvested (and possibly pilfered) by a pathologist named Thomas Harvey. Levy chronicled the strange afterlife of the physicist’s brain, culminating in his memorable description: “I had been granted a rare peek into an organic crystal ball. Swirling in formaldehyde was the power of the smashed atom, the mystery of the universe’s black holes, the utter miracle of human achievement.” So the result of screening a documentary about another person’s hunt for this very same organ 15 years after Levy’s article was a uniquely odd sensation for me specifically. For a film that proposes to solve a deep and thought-provoking mystery, I kept watching with a nagging question in my mind: “Didn’t we already figure this out?”

Maybe Levy’s report was lost to history, or only the barest of information made it through time’s game of telephone to tickle the fancy of a Japanese math professor. In any event, Einstein’s Brain kicks off the search with a retroactive information deficit, armed with only the knowledge that the mind behind relativity was plucked from its braincase during an autopsy in Princeton in 1955. From there, we pick up the trail with Professor Kenji Sugimoto in hot pursuit as he crisscrosses the country in search of the wayward noggin-nugget, encountering a university professor in New York, a neuroscientist in California, a police officer in Missouri, a pile of redacted FBI records in Washington, DC, a biologist in New Jersey, William S. Burroughs (who plays him a clip from “The Day After” and provides directions to Harvey’s home), and even Einstein’s granddaughter, working our way ever closer to Albert Einstein’s cranial cortex.

Einstein’s Brain has its origins in television, airing on the long-running BBC documentary program “Arena” as part of a series called “Relics” that purported to be about treasured artifacts but was really more interested in the people who sought them. That makes Prof. Sugimoto an intriguing subject, because the only thing we know Continue reading IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: RELICS: EINSTEIN’S BRAIN (1994)

CAPSULE: BUTTONERS (1997)

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DIRECTED BY: Petr Zelenka

FEATURING: Pavel Zajicek, Jan Haubert, Seisuke Tsukahara

PLOT: A variety of tales unfold simultaneously during a single night as a radio show attempts a review of the twentieth century.

Still from "Buttoners" (1997)

COMMENTS: Czechoslovakian, and later Czech, cinema has a lot to offer, especially for those interested in the weird. Many are familiar with the legacy of the (Valerie and Her Week of Wonders, Daisies) or its tradition of stop-motion animation (The Cybernetic Grandma, The Pied Piper). There are a plethora of lesser-known auteurs and visionaries lurking in the shadows, however, awaiting rediscovery. One of them is Petr Zelenka, whose comedies tackle the human condition through an absurdist lens (the distributor’s statement says he “formally combines an American independent movie poetic with Bunuelesque absurdity.”). Buttoners is a perfect example of his style.

Buttoners takes place mostly in the course of one long night and is divided into a series of chapters, each of focusing on different characters and their quirks. It gradually adds layers of meaning by revealing new points of view and multiple intersections between the characters, hidden in the details. In “The Rituals of Civilization,” a neurotic psychiatrist tries to find comfort in the small routines of personal care and hygiene. “The Last Decent Generation” shows how two elderly couples discover each other’s strange yet harmless fetishes.  And this is just a sample of the stories included here, building into a complex narrative of humanity at its weirdest and most original.

This is not superficial comedy where the characters eccentricities make them the butt of the joke. “The Rituals of Civilization” is, in fact, a meditation on our relationship with death and chaos. “The Last Decent Generation” tackles human quirks with sympathy, recalling Jan Svankmajer‘s far more bizarre Conspirators of Pleasure (1996). The bombing of Hiroshima is referenced throughout the movie, with a metaphysical twist towards the end, forming a common ground for all these disparate stories. This major event, with all its consequences, couldn’t be absent from a movie that attempts, among other things, to review the twentieth century.

All in all, Buttoners maintains a playful tone while reveling in clever twists. We can trace some formal similarities with the more recent Hungarian title Treasure City (2020), like the constant darkness and slightly surrealistic final segment. This Czech movie is way more light-hearted and comedic in style, however, which makes it the perfect recommendation for anyone looking for a sophisticated comedy unafraid to tackle serious subject matter.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“A strong return to the eccentric soul of [Czech cinema’s]1960s heyday… quirky, hugely enjoyable…”–Eddie Cokrell, Nitrate Online (festival screening) 

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    CAPSULE: CAR CEMETERY (1983)

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    DIRECTED BY: Fernando Arrabal

    FEATURING: Alain Bashung, , Micha Bayard

    PLOT: A modern-day Messiah emerges as a prophet and musician amongst a crew of outcasts and weirdos in the post-apocalyptic car cemetery of Babylon.

    Still from car cemetery (1983)

    COMMENTS: Everything feels a bit familiar in the beginning. Voice-over verses from John’s Revelation and shots of a desolate hellscape hint at a typical post-apocalyptic genre affair.  Don’t be fooled, however. The director is legendary post-surrealist , who, along with Alejandro Jodorowsky and , established theater and cinema’s infamous “Panic Movement.” This work, a loose adaptation of a former play of the same name, is admittedly not one of Arrabal’s wildest visions; but it is an accessible introductory point to his personal panic aesthetic in cinema, expressed through the incorporation of violent and often blasphemous imagery, deviant sexuality, and elements of social critique.

    The plot takes place in an automobile graveyard where a variety of outcasts take refuge after a major disaster. Milos, a former pimp, is the boss here, using the facilities as a sort of love hotel. Dila, a prostitute with a pure heart, is in his stable. And then there is Emanou, a prophet and subversive musician with a strong following—as well as many enemies. His miracles and his downfall closely follow the passion of Christ, offering a subversive take on biblical motifs and archetypes.

    Every character here is nothing more than a reinterpretation of the the Divine Drama. Emanou, of course, is Christ: that’s clear from the beginning. Milos the opportunist is Pontius Pilate, and Dila recalls Mary Magdalene. The characters Topé and Fodère represent Judas and Peter. Judas’ portrayal is noteworthy; he is a poet and idealist ready to play a despicable, albeit necessary role, even if than means he will dwell in the latrines of history for all eternity. In other words, he is portrayed as the true savior—food for thought for everyone open to revisionist takes on religion.

    Each of Emanou’s miracles have a New Testament counterpart, but extra symbolic elements are also thrown into the mix. Everyone  longs for a bit of rain and for Emanou’s upcoming punk rock concert, seen a path to salvation. Dramatic staging, lighting, and makeup give the production a theatrical feel, while the decor combines elements of classical painting, still lifes, and even pop-art. Jazz, and the aforementioned punk, plus a hint of Latin music, make up the rich soundtrack. And two narrators that appear at key points in voice-over—one male, one female—remind us of the artificiality and the parablistic nature of everything portrayed here.

    All in all, however, this is not one of Arrabal’s boldest works. There isn’t graphic content like in I Will Walk Like a Crazy Horse (1973). There is a deviant sexuality, but nothing too extreme. Only the most narrow-minded people could consider this movie sacrilegious. But Car Cemetery will appeal to those interested in alternative takes on biblical narratives—Andrej Wajda’s Pilate and Others (1972) comes to mind for a similarly nonconformist take on the Divine Drama.

    WHAT THE CRITICS SAY

    “…a showcase for Arrabal’s penchant for the bizarre… it feels like a strange piece of art for art’s sake, but for some that’ll be reason enough.”–Ian Jane, Rock! Shock! Pop! (“The Fernando Arrabal Collection 2 DVD box set)

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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.)     

    IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: THE MAGIC TOYSHOP (1987)

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    DIRECTED BY: David Wheatley

    FEATURING: Caroline Milmoe, Tom Bell, Kilian McKenna, Patricia Kerrigan, Lorcan Cranitch

    PLOT: An orphaned girl is sent to live with her brooding uncle, a toymaker who makes elaborate marionette shows to cow and terrorize the members of his household.

    COMMENTS: You have to hand it to the Brits; they just do coming-of-age stories a little bit differently. Here in the States, our budding young women are coping with love and loss at the hands of farm equipment or bee stings. But across the pond, the full flower of the newly mature female is as likely to coincide with psychic revenge upon a distant father or the wholesale collapse of civilization. It’s a whole other ballgame over there. 

    Our heroine, Melanie, is coming into adulthood and knows it. Ogling her own youthful, unblemished form in the mirror and comparing it to Boticelli’s Venus, she observes, “Physically, I’ve reached my peak. From now on, I can only deteriorate.” It’s a charmingly lofty and pretentious declaration that highlights her actual immaturity, given her comfortable home and the security of her parents’ oversight. Naturally, it takes their demise in a plane crash (over the Grand Canyon, an appropriately yonic piece of symbolism) to make her realize just how unprepared she is for the adult world. She and her younger siblings are promptly shipped off to a cramped London flat where her foul-tempered Uncle Philip sells handcrafted dolls and wind-up toys in the front and holds oppressive court in the back, demanding total subservience from his mute wife Margaret and her brothers Finn and Francie. Philip is a petty dictator, issuing his cruelties through rigid house rules and cutting remarks. He’s the sort specifically designed to foster rebellion in the young people he despises, and given that Melanie is just starting to come into her own, their collision is inevitable.

    The use of the word “magic” in the title implies a fairy tale element that isn’t really the story’s focus. The toys in his shop promise a level of enchantment that Philip is quick to stifle. His peculiar passion is for puppets, which he brings to life as the expression of his cynical view of humanity. That’s where we see the line between childhood and adulthood, between toys as best companions and toys as childish things to be put away. That dichotomy is the story’s pivot point, as Philip repeatedly denigrates Melanie until he finally comes up with a use for her: to play the lead in a re-enactment of the Greek myth in which Zeus rapes Leda under the guise of a swan. When Melanie comes face-to-face with the mechanical bird, it’s the crucial moment when she has to decide if she is interacting with a toy or with the malevolent soul giving it life.

    Screenwriter , adapting her own book, has been seen ‘round these parts before—specifically, her reimagining of Little Red Riding Hood in The Company of Wolves. Magic Toyshop similarly explores notions of burgeoning sexuality, both in Melanie’s unsteady flirtation with the roguish Finn and in the strange abuse heaped upon her by Uncle Philip. It’s a powerful simile (far too overt to be a metaphor), although one that is undercut by its sudden and unsatisfactory resolution. Yes, we get the revolution we expect, but with no follow-through. Melanie, who once declared that she had peaked and could only deteriorate, now looks at the flames consuming her world and says, “Everything is lost now.” It’s as though Carter refused to countenance an ending in which everyone lives happily ever after, but can hardly see a world in which anyone lives at all.

    WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

    “A gorgeous, strange and mesmerizing fairy tale for adults… ‘Toyshop’ is less a film of sexually charged transformations, man into wolf, than one with magical, spellbinding effects…” – Sheila Benson, The Los Angeles Times (contemporaneous)

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