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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: CASSHERN (2004)

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DIRECTED BY: Kazuaki Kiriya

FEATURING: , , , Kanako Higuchi, Fumiyo Kohinata, Toshiaki Karasawa

PLOT: Dr. Azuma uses experimental cell-regrowth technology to resurrect his son Tetsuya, transforming him into a reluctant superhero and inadvertently creating a group of rebellious new humanoids who are prepared to destroy all of humanity.

Still from Casshern (2004)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: Ambitious to a fault, Casshern is glorious excess, ricocheting from elaborate action sequence to moody introspection and back again, all against one ornately decorated backdrop after another. Even in its most intimate moments, this is a film that aims big: in plot, in look, in performance.

COMMENTS: The year was 2004, and the digital backdrop was ready to make a splash. A quartet of films offered an early look at the green-screen extravaganza that would come to dominate the cineplex, each one of them in their own way showing a path to the future. One of them, Able Edwards, looks exactly like its $30,000 budget. Immortal captured our attention by emphasizing weird flourishes. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow opted for star power, plopping some of Hollywood’s biggest names in front of glorious sepia-toned Art Deco images and directly into the heart of one of the most boring movies ever projected. And then there’s Casshern, Japan’s entry in the digital sweepstakes and probably the film that best augurs the current state of the movies; creating a fusion of intense action, elaborately appointed CGI landscapes, and liberal doses of operatic philosophical discussions conducted with aching intensity. Each, in their own way, led us to “The Mandalorian.”

Casshern has so much plot. It’s adapted from a 1973 anime series and absolutely feels like it, with volumes of backstory condensed into short bursts amidst the action and impassioned reflection. For most films, the showdown between humanity and the new creatures it has unintentionally Frankenstein-ed into existence would be conflict enough. Shellshocked Tetsuya finds an appropriately flamboyant opponent in Burai, the white-haired leader of the Neo-Sapien revolution.The history here, however, just keeps going back and back: to Tetsuya’s father as the inventor of neo-cells, to the intractable war between the two great powers, to the coverup of the true origin of humanity. Sometimes, Casshern has so much it wants to explain that it feels like it’s retconning itself in real time.

It’s all very, very serious. Tetsuya and love-of-his-life Luna can barely take a moment for themselves without reckoning with all they have lost. The various powers manipulating the situation from behind the scenes are too bureaucratic and officious to waste a moment on mustache-twirling. Even Burai and his grand pronouncements of world destruction are weighted with pain and vengeance. You would think that dressing themselves in fabulous supervillain gear, donning a logo that looks like the Nazis co-opted a 45 rpm adapter, and stumbling with unbelievable serendipity into an old factory for constructing killer robots would merit at least a moment of wry acknowledgement. But no, there’s not a smile to be found.

Music-video veteran Kiriya puts together some spectacular set pieces, including a tense escape from a laboratory under heavy fire and an exciting sword duel on the grounds of a decimated city. He’s always careful to keep the story rooted in philosophical quandary, though, which means the film is wildly inconsistent in tone and pace. (Shiro Sagisu’s score, which often feels wildly out of sync with what’s happening on the screen, doesn’t not help.) What’s most curious about this mix of moods is that everything feels essential, but mismatched, as if two different takes on the same material had been stitched together. A North American edit supposedly tightens up the more philosophical sections (and reportedly makes the story less comprehensible in the process), but it’s hard to see how that would help. For all the introspective diversions, “too slow” really isn’t one of Casshern’s problems.

For a superhero film that, for its look and its weight, could sit comfortably alongside any number of MCU and DCU entries, Casshern is not particularly fun, but it is fascinating. If you wanted to show how an anime could become live action, this would be a strong point of comparison. If you wanted to demonstrate the full potential of digital set design to create impossible worlds, this film opens the door. If you just want to embellish familiar sci-fi settings with a layer of existential dread, this definitely does the trick. All these things and more are possible. However, you just might want to decide which of those things you want the most.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“… so stunning and strange to behold, saturating the screen with such rococo detail, that it is impossible to believe it was made for under 6 million US dollars… Casshern really does represent a spectacularly stylised mutation of the way we look at the world of war.” – Anton Bitel, Projected Figures

(This movie was nominated for review by Andrew Milne, who called it “utterly inscrutable and deliciously mad.” Andrew also recommended it to Tim Brayton at Alternate Ending, who got to his review long before we got to ours. Well played, Tim. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)   

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Casshern (DVD)

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    FANTASIA 2026: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: ZSAZSA ZATURNNAH (2026)

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    AKA Zsazsa Zaturnnah vs the Amazonistas of Planet X

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    DIRECTED BY: Avid Liongoren

    FEATURING: Voices of Phi Palmos, Adrienne Vergara, Io Balanon, Siglo Pecho, Joelle Yuvienco

    PLOT: Ada, owner of a local hair salon, has a crush on the  grocer across the street and must rise to heights of heroism to defeat murderous aliens from planet Planet X.

    Still from Zsazsa Zsaturnnah (2026)

    WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: The fact that this is one of the queerest movies I’ve seen, both in the modern sense and the word’s original definition, tips my balance of judgment here. A string of silly, sexualized kaiju encounters (eggplant, anyone?) culminate in a showdown involving a cock-and-balls super weapon, so there’s certainly that, too. Zsazsa might make for a great animated sci-fi queer double feature alongside Strange Frame.

    COMMENTS: Ada enjoys his quiet life, in his quiet town, working at his quiet hair salon. He enjoys, a great deal, innocently ogling Dodong from his viewpoint across the street (often falling into an inadvertent drool as the comic-book visuals morph into Steel-y pastels of hunkitude). He enjoys, somewhat less, the company of Didi, his in-your-face assistant who somehow managed to land devotedly in his employ. He enjoys, not at all, the prospect of devouring a large space rock—emblazoned with the enigmatic word, “ZATURNNAH”—at Didi’s behest; but as Didi quips, Ada has had no difficulty fitting large things into his mouth before. Open wide, gulp, fizz, blast, and behold our superhero: muscle-bound, flowing-haired, curvaceously-carressable Zsazsa!

    Adapated from a comic series, and previously interpreted in live action both on screen and on stage, Zsazsa is wholly unleashed in its animated form. Avid Liongoren pushes the vibrant versatility of the medium to fabulous, fantastical heights as colors grab the eye and zippy lines whoosh us through mighty battles, culminating in a zombie horde ka-powing before the actual final showdown. That battle, against the strange forces behind the series of invasions that plague the small town, squares us off against an odd bit of commentary: a mighty queen from a far off planet who has destroyed all men and believes that Zsazsa is wholly female. There is a smirking tension in Zsazsa between misandry, misogyny, and a nebulous middle thingy. Ada is, quite firmly, a gay man, though with classically feminine tendencies, and the queen of Planet X has no experience with this.

    But I risk taking things too seriously. Zsazsa bursts with Lisa Frank energy from the get-go, and the pep doesn’t let up throughout the movie. In the midst of the endless sight gags, zippy one-liners, and cartoonish combat is a message: strength comes from within, and it has nothing to do with whatever spiky space rock you may have deep-throated into yourself.

    WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

    “… the actual subject of the film perfectly accentuates the strangeness of its animated frames… Fans of campy cinema, drag aesthetics, and comic-book fantasy should have an absolute blast with this wild genre combo.” — Joshua Hayes, Josh at the Movies (festival screening)

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    FANTASIA 2026: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: DANCE FREAK (2025)

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    RecommendedWeirdest!

    DIRECTED BY: Robby Rackleff, Alan Resnick

    FEATURING: Robby Rackleff, Megan Koester, Sheila Mears, Jamel Johnson

    PLOT: Obie’s crummy life becomes dangerous when a mysterious freak appears in town to murder those caught up in his hypnotic moves.

    Still from Dance Freak (2026)

    WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: I’ll pitch this as “The Residents Present: Guy Maddin‘s Jekyll & Hide“, to give you an approximate idea what to expect.

    COMMENTS: There are few sacks sadder than Obie. He is timid, depressed, seems to own only one sweatshirt, and cannot build a bird house to save his life, no matter how much coaching—both practical and existential—his teacher provides. To add to his woes, his go-getter girlfriend, Dorty, a young woman with a big heart, a big club, and mayoral aspirations, dumps him. And now, enter the Dance Freak: a humanoid entity whose motion and rhythm crushes the heads of anyone who dares gaze upon its wondrous moves.

    Dance Freak is a masterful example of the possibilities encountered when creativity slams into the wall of zero resources. Obie’s town is a ghost town, populated by quietly angry people (or, in the case of the Salad Gang, loudly angry). Obviously animated birds attack and peck at the protagonist, and mist permeates the peripheries. Special effects crumble and melt into themselves and into each other, reflecting not only Obie’s fractured mind but also the “just add another layer” attitude that runs throughout the production. The Dance Freak itself is nothing more than co-director, co-screenwriter Robby Rackleff (who, incidentally, was wearing the Dance Freak’s khaki slacks on the film’s opening day); if you’re looking for something below Z-grade for your monster, you can’t do better than have one of the filmmakers just jamming his unchoreographed body onscreen to the unheard strains of a famous piece of pop film music.

    The one professional actor (the directors words) is Sheila Mears, playing Dr. Dilly Gorgul. She earns her fee and then some as an evil scientist who exemplifies the excitement that draws someone to expanding knowledge in the first place: science is cool, especially mad science. Her giddiness is a refreshing novelty amidst the trip-wire tempers and hyper-caffeinated visuals. Most importantly, she still fits in with the milieu as a slightly plus-person alongside all the other heightened townsfolk, from father-issues Detective Gittit to Megaman, Obie’s manager who suffered from a filthy childhood that interfered with his one true love of drinking clear water fresh from the tap.

    Rackleff and Resnick thread a tricky needle in this microbudget bit of madness: for the story of Dance Freak, there needs to be hyperbolic imagery and acting, but also enough relatability to keep the viewer invested. For the look of Dance Freak, there needs to be consistent “otherness” that doesn’t break the bank. And while not every movie needs to have a moral, Dance Freak opts for one, taking on itself the further task of showcasing the three possible paths we face when our life is in a rut: keep digging in, break something, or build something. We would do well to remember that there is a potential Dance Freak in all of us; will we dance for destruction—or creation?

    WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

    “100 minutes of pure irreverent nonsense in a gorgeous visual package that utilizes what appears to be old-school compositing, direct animation, and trippy transitions to augment some gnarly distortions, repurposed glue guns, and an out-of-body skin suit that’s as much a prison as it is a home… Would I watch it again? No. Should you watch it once? As long as you’re prepared to wonder whether you’ve had a stroke.”–Jared Mobarak, The Film Stage (Fantasia screening)

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    FANTASIA 2026: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: HER PRIVATE HELL (2026)

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    DIRECTED BY: Nicolas Winding Refn

    FEATURING: Sophie Thatcher, , , Charles Melton, Dougray Scott, Diego Calva

    PLOT: It’s Elle’s birthday, and her father is heading out of town, leaving her in the company of her BFF-turned-step-mother and a beautiful new “sister,” as a sinister fog heralds the arrival of The Leather Man.

    Still from Her Private Hell (2026)

    WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Refn doesn’t waste our time with nonsense like clarity. Space encounters with Candy Flux ray-guns, mega-crystal caverns, rent rib cages, and daddy issues laid on as thick as the ambient mist is all we need to get by in this surreal fairytale.

    COMMENTS: It’s kind of a chamber drama, with a cast of six. Plus two. Plus some flashback goons. And it all takes place in the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel. Except, of course, those bits on a movie set. And that violent string in post-WWII occupied Japan. And, now that I think of it, that club consisting primarily of sharp shadows, strobing neon, and dozens and dozens of Romanesque statues. Oh, and that nebulous underworld with the jutting rods of serrated crystal, too. And Refn’s exploration of a lachrymose psyche would have been incomplete without the pair of seamstress-cum-manitous manipulating events, one of them maneuvering like an interpretive dancer.

    Suffice to say, the story is one of remorse, grief, sibling rivalry, and just about everyone being very attractive and dressed in the highest of bleak-chic.

    This last bit is true, at least for the trio-plus-two of the female protagonists. The fellows look more along the lines of middle-aged Harry Dean Stanton (Elle’s father, Johnny Thunders), young Harry Dean Stanton (Nico, adversary of said father), and violently clean-cut angel of vengeance in a US army uniform (Private “K,” also a father, who’s lost his daughter to a mythical murderer who manifests mainly with diamond-studded gloves and seems unbound by temporal limitations). Regardless, these half-dozen orphic oddities keep events moving forward, from the lobby to the suite to the sinister backrooms of 1940s Japan to the candy crystal caves.

    This disjointed recollection of the characters and events is, upon consideration, probably more true to a narrative through line than I credit. Her Private Hell is very much about Elle: she is the first character we see, aside from the truly bizarre cityscape with towers, lights, a massive Ozymandiosian bust, and fog, fog, fog, which is a character in its own right. The hotel (named, I believe, “Fog Tower” or something like that) is a grim-glittery wonderment, as if gave ‘s Megalopolis a good once over. The props for the movie within the movie look like the best low budget doo-dads a groovy ’60s space epic could ask for. And while Elle’s birthday cake looks delicious, I’m not sure how we’re supposed to feel about her former BFF hand-feeding it to the anniversary girl before breaking into dog-speak.

    At an early point in the movie, a choice presents itself: ponder deeply about symbolism and implications for clinical understanding of this grisly vision, or turn your brain off and allow scattered mental impulses to soar and bounce amongst the cavalcade of sickly grandeur summoned by this witch’s brew. I opted for the latter, and I believe Refn would approve. As he explained during his introduction, the point of a film is to enjoy it, with all the sex, violence, sickness, and humor that may have been tossed in the cauldron.

    WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

    “…a bizarre new fantasia moodscape, a midnight movie of fear and dreamy disquiet…resists interpretation, like so many of Refn’s recent films, but executes a slow dervish swirl of hypnotic strangeness.”–Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian (Cannes screening)

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    CAPSULE: TOUCH ME (2025)

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    DIRECTED BY:

    FEATURING: Olivia Taylor Dudley, Jordan Gavaris, , Marlene Forte

    PLOT: 27-year old underachiever Joey and her troubled trust-fund baby pal Craig spend time at the retreat of an alien, becoming addicted to the heroin-like touch of his tentacles.

    Still from Touch Me (2025)

    COMMENTS: I don’t think Gen-Z’ers are really afraid of, or attracted to, alien tentacle sex. What the characters in Touch Me are deeply afraid of is a life devoid of purpose, or even of a reasonable infrastructure to be able to pursue their dreams. Joey is unable to advance her journalistic career, a slave to student debt and just-over-minimum-wage barrista and bartender gigs. Craig’s privileged background and philosophy degree put him no closer to finding dreams; in fact, they’ve left him depressed and unemployable. Meaningless sex, drinking, New Age-y spiritual exercises, and, eventually, the blissful, numbing touch only an alien can deliver offer them relief from their anxieties. Heck, even procrastinating alien Brian can’t get his act together to either take over the world, or to save it from itself. As the characters struggle to find a place in society, the alien’s euphoric touch serves a metaphor for the distractions and temptations of co-dependent romantic relationships and, more explicitly, drug addiction.

    The acting is remarkable for a low-budget indie horror. Olivia Taylor Dudley is a revelation: dreamy in a languid, damaged way, remaining likable even when engaging in vile drug-seeking behaviors. She begins the film with an 8-minute monologue about her first meeting with a track-suited, environmentally responsible alien with hair that’s the “good kind of wet.” It’s not quite a tour-de-force, but it is the kind of thing that makes you sit up and jot down the actress’ name. Veteran character actor Pucci is also sexy as the complicated, hip-hop dancing alien who might be a cosmic narcissist or might be a well-meaning but clueless visitor who can’t comprehend human relationships. Gavaris is believable, if mostly relegated to comic relief (although his friendship with Joey plays a crucial role in the movie’s emotional makeup), and Forte puts in fine work as Brian’s unappreciated human assistant resenting the presence of younger and more attractive visitors.

    On the other hand, director Addison Heinmann’s tonal shifts and unnecessary stylizations can pose a challenge. Joey’s panic attacks are accompanied by swarms of picture-in-picture popups, and a flashback is done as a Japanese silent movie but with spoken dialogue. These bits sometimes aren’t deployed purposefully, taking us out of the story. Furthermore, the attempts at comedy don’t always arise cleanly out of the more serious themes. Henimann throws a lot of absurdity at the screen, and not all of it works (one thing that does work are Brian’s dance scenes, which are both fun to watch and endearingly quirky). The hazy, neon-lit interspecies sex scenes are also a blast; they’re almost tasteful.

    Because of the undisciplined approach, this is an odd movie, as well as a weird one. That said, Touch Me is nowhere near as alienating as its miserable current 4.8 IMDb rating would suggest. Most of the negative sentiments seem to come from people who were hoping for a more straightforward live-action hentai sci-fi horror, and are along the lines of “this was a little too out there for me.” Regular readers of this site will likely find this on the low-to-average end of the weird scale, and uneven, but far from boring. You’re invited to Touch Me: you might enjoy it.

    WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

    “The cherry on top of this admittedly weird cocktail is a strong streak of genuine sensuality – if it’s your first encounter with tentacle sex on screen, you might be surprised how appealing Heimann and his cast have managed to make it seem.”–Catherine Bray, The Guardian (contemporaneous)