Saturday, January 22, 2011
I have seen it all. Not that I didn't see at least parts of this somewhere else in some other movie. I knew it would happen sooner or later that everything, JUST EVERYTHING, taboo would go the way of the dodo. Yes, ladies and germs, I have watched A Serbian Film. Watched... that's a curious word. I don't think I actually did watch that film. Film... film??? No, it's not just a film either. What I did, not five hours ago, was endure a small piece of trauma.
What's so traumatic? I'm not going to write about it outright. I don't want to be the guy in the rubber suit trying to play Cthulu in any H.P. Lovecraft adaptation no matter how much you pay me, and I'm certainly not going to try and tackle what A Serbian Film is. You don't tug on Superman's cape. You don't spit into the wind. And you most certainly do not try to capture trauma like A Serbian Film on a cheap ass horro-blog. I will tell you what it has done to me. Maybe that's the best way to figure out if you really want to experience this film.
I watched it in short spurts this morning as the family gradually woke up. Took the dog out. Ate some Lucky Charms. Had a cup of coffee. Got the little one a bowl of Lucky Charms. Got the wife a cup of Joe and some trail mix. The first twenty minutes were pretty standard set up fair. Alluring and promising. Take a couple of decent actors and foreshadow the making of a pornographic movie and anyone will watch to see what's going to happen. I thought to myself, "hype... it's just hype and they did say that the prosthetics blew." I debated turning it off more than a couple of times because it reeeeally wasn't going anywhere and there was quite a bit of porn filler (not to say that's a bad thing, but there is a time and place my dear friends).
Then it starts... the suggestion of a taboo. The hint of the forbidden. I was prepared to cry out, "MISDIRECTION!!!" But alas it wasn't misdirection. It was a Mapquest/GPS straight to what I would call... as an adult... the "naughty place". A place you never go. A place you're not supposed to touch or talk about or see or know about and this picture was a bunch of munchkins in Munchkinland rallying you to follow the yellow brick road. And you do. All the way to the center of deliberate fugue state inducing events.
So the movie plays out in just that way that this movie is supposed to play out. It ends in just the way you didn't expect it to end. And you're left feeling just... the way... you never expected to feel: A little pained. A little "what the fuck?". A little I want to watch something happy. Somehow heart warmed (yes, warmed). A little icky. This flick is as close to the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden as you're going to get. Now you know how Adam felt biting that fruit because he bit into that succulent, juicy morsel... wrapped in the guise of forbidden only to realize that he could untaste it. A Serbian Film... you don't even know what that means and what it will mean and when anyone ever asks me if I've seen it I have two scenes that pop into my head. I hope that doesn't happen as the days go by, but, alas, I'm afraid it just might.
YOU CAN'T UNSEE THIS MOVIE.
They say it(they?), and they are correct.
Thirty minutes later... I wanted to talk to my wife about it. I wanted to ask her... SOMETHING!!! Anything to get that movie flushed down my mental toilet. I told her that it pushed me to my limit. She didn't ask why. She knows better by now. The kind of movies I watch she doesn't want to know about. Almost puked during Hostel. Watches America's Funniest Home Videos. Likes kitch picture frames with sayings like "Home is where the Heart is". She knows not to ask, but I really wanted her to ask. I wanted to confess what I had just seen to someone because my mind felt wrong. I want priests (yes, multiple, an old one and a young one). I think most people turn off the DVD. I think most normal people realize they don't need to see the whole movie to know that it's going to mess with their psyche.
One hour ago, four hours after watching A Serbian Film... my brain has done a figure eight in my head. I feel concussed. Brain pulsing. Thoughts are painful. Can't get that image out of my brain. Can't unsee it. It replays in my head, a private feature film. Can't unsee it. Read the Wikipedia synopsis of movie festivals at which it was shown, countries that have banned it. Read up about the people who made the movie, and they seem normal enough to me. What was it like to film this? Who reads this script and how much/little do they pay you to actually try and act in it. Do they paint it as an art picture or as a horror movie or as a psychological thriller?
This isn't Torture Porn fellas. This isn't Porn. This needed to be done. This never needs to happen again. It's like the Manhattan Project of horror films. Build the bomb. Drop the bomb. DON'T DROP THE BOMB AGAIN!
I can tell you that I don't know who I could show this movie to. I know of the no individual who would want to see it nor anyone who could tolerate it. Even at a gross out level. I know no one who I will share the details of the movie with. I won't tell people that I've watched it and why I liked it... Yes. I liked it quite alot. I won't tell anyone that (except you guys... you guys are cool). For those of you who have had the pleasure of seeing this (and are in therapy now) can you imagine talking about this one around the water cooler? at the bar with your buddy? on a long business trip car ride to where ever? I don't even want people to go on IMDB to read the synopsis.
You said Human Centipede was bad. You thought it was a gross out. This movie is beyond Linda Blair shoving a crucifix in her cooter screaming "Fuck me Jesus". It's beyond Faces of Death or Traces of Death. It's probably beyond snuff because it just is OK? Probably. I think you listen to "Fucked with a Knife" by Cannibal Corpse to calm down after watching this picture. I think you drink. Heavily. For Days. I just may. If you were in a theatre at one of the few screenings at one of the festivals where this was actually allowed to play, when you got out, and the lights came on... what did you say to the person next to you? What could you say? Did you want to be held? Did you want to forget? (I feel like I sound like Henry Rollins right about now).
If you can cope with that... then by all means take in this movie with buttery popcorn, jujubes, a friend and a warm blanket. But take care. I don't think any warning label on a box or a flashing notice on a movie trailer or someone telling you that you may be changed after seeing it (more like LSD then Shrooms) will ever prepare you for this. Nothing is supposed to prepare you for this. It's not supposed to exist.
Sleep with the lights on and hug your loved ones. Please.
-Terror out. :splat:
For a better write up go here:
Wes from Bloodsprayer Takes on A Serbian Film